#and then amplified now that he isn’t Commander anymore

[gentle-hero-blog]

I just think that. If a person who had never been allowed to be selfish in their life due to their position was suddenly relieved of that position. that would be very interesting. if you know what I mean

[romantichopelessly]

I was thinking about the line in BLLB where Adam ponders what he would do given Ronan’s power and now I cannot stop thinking about a TRC power swap AU.

Gansey who’s a mirror/amplifier. That’s how he continuously finds people tied to the ley line—they’re drawn to him and him to them. Gansey whose journey is about learning to cut himself off from others, something that came so easily to Blue. Gansey who always wants to give and give to his friends and does so just by existing near them, but can’t help but feel like they don’t feel the same for him because they can’t give back in the same way.

Blue who’s a dreamer, misfit in a family of psychics, who doesn’t know anyone like her. Was her father like her? Blue with the world at her fingertips, self righteous determined to change the world, but unable to control her own power. Sensible Blue who wants to dream sensible things (and cures for cancer, and ways to save the rainforest, and cures for magic killing kisses), but her dreams always come out just a bit too uncanny and whimsical to be anything but magic, or are downright unworkable in case of the cursed-kiss-removal.

Ronan who is a magician, born to be a sacrifice to an entity from his parents’ dreams. Ronan who grows up isolated on a farm, at whim to a manifested forest-god. Ronan whose identity is so intrinsically tied to magic—it’s what he was made for, isn’t it?—that having it torn from him is like taking his life force. Ronan who has access to the future but doesn’t want it. Not like this. Not without the people he loves. Not anymore.

Adam with the power to command whatever he wants with his voice. Does he use this power in his ambition to escape his life? Or does he suppress it, determined not to rely on something so ephemeral to make his way out, when he should be able to do it entirely on his own. Adam who is so sure he knows what’s right and now has the power to get others to fall in line. But would he?

[geode-crystal]

And we finally have a sequel to the Used as Bait story!

Rescue time! Darius and Mianu have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble. Can Mianu get them out? Or will his own dark magic just make things worse?

("Porque no los dos" lol)

Directly continues my previous story. Characters: Darius the knight, Prince Mianu, and some random mercenary whumpers.

Contents: kidnapping, restraints (chains), a little bit of magic torture, a little bit of blood, tons of threats, a knife, implied minor character death (left somewhat open ended)

______________________

“Let. Him. Go.”

Mianu’s voice rang through the room. There was power behind it, more than just the typical authority of royalty. His magic, already swirling around his arm, was making him even more imposing than usual.

It was terrifying. But gods, even in these circumstances, Darius couldn’t help but find it insanely attractive.

Not that he had time to think about that.  

The mercenary woman stepped forward, looming right in front of Darius. Darius couldn’t even see Mianu anymore. But that didn’t stop his heart from pounding so hard it nearly burst out of his chest.

“Ah, the lost little prince,” the mercenary sneered. “So glad you made it.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Mianu hissed. “We both know I'm not here for games.”

Darius didn’t need to see his captor’s face to know she was smirking. “True enough. There’s far more at stake here than any simple game, isn’t there? Especially if you want your darling knight returned to you in one piece.”

Darius struggled against his chains once more. It was infuriating. It was agony. Mianu was right there, already falling to his dark magic, and Darius couldn’t reach him.

Not with his actions, anyway. But his captors had made a mistake. They hadn’t bothered to gag or silence him.

“Mianu, run!” Darius shouted. “Whatever she wants, it’s not worth it! I’ll be fine, just get out of here!”

“Silence.”

The mercenary’s command was followed up by another spell. The same one from before. The burst of magic flew right towards his head. Darius flinched, barely managing to avoid the worst of the damage. The curse cut into his cheek. He gasped at the harsh sting of it.

Mianu let out a wordless scream.

The room instantly got colder. And there was another sound, one that echoed and amplified Mianu’s cry. It was like the growl of a furious beast.

Darius struggled against his chains again. Mianu’s power was only growing. Gods knew what kind of a toll it would take on him…

“You have made a big mistake,” Mianu growled. “I will give you one. More. Chance. Let him go, now. Or I will show now mercy.”

“Yes, yes, very intimidating,” said the mercenary.

She snapped her fingers. The sound seemed to echo, repeated over and over. And more mercenaries appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Mianu hissed in surprise. Darius tried to cry out again, to warn him, to get him the hell out of there—but any attempt was cut short as someone roughly grabbed his hair from behind. His head was yanked back. Something cold was pressed against his throat.

He didn’t need to see it. He knew the bite of steel all too well.

Mianu froze. Even the air seemed to go utterly still. The other mercenaries moved around them, drawing weapons, preparing more spells. Darius sensed more than saw the movements, only catching glimpses out of the corner of his eye. The only thing he could see clearly was the look on Mianu’s face.  

Gods, that expression was going to haunt him, no matter what happened next.

“You strike any one of us down, your highness, and your knight will be the next to fall,” Darius’ captor warned.

Slowly, his eyes never once leaving Darius’ face, Mianu lowered his hand. Magic still curled around his fingers. But he closed his fist, making sure that none of it could escape.

Not yet.

The lead mercenary laughed, a cold, cruel sound, as sharp as the knife against Darius’ throat.

“Much better.” She swept off to the side, deliberately walking right in front of Darius and over to something else that he—infuriatingly—still couldn’t see. But Mianu clearly could. The prince’s eyes went wide.

“Do you recognize this?” the mercenary hissed.

“Where did you get that?” Mianu demanded.

His shock sounded genuine. Darius tried to shift a bit, struggling in vain to get away. Of course, the figure just gripped his hair even tighter. The knife pricked his skin, drawing beads of blood. Not that Darius cared about his own state at the moment.

“Mianu, don’t listen to her,” he choked out. “She’s a liar. A thief. She’ll—”

“Oh, good, I’m glad you recognize it,” said the lead mercenary. She was completely casual. And completely ignoring Darius’ shouts.

Mianu scoffed. “Of course I do. It’s my sigil.”

That cut Darius off far more effectively than any threat. The royal sigil? How in the name of all the gods did these cowards get their hands on something like that? Especially when they were so far from home?

“Then you understand why we needed you,” the mercenary smirked. “Our task for you is really quite simple. All you have to do is get this open.”

“You don’t even know what’s in there,” Mianu countered. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

The mercenary sneered. “I’m eager to find out.”  

Open it? Darius desperately wanted to know what was going on. And why Mianu was hesitating. If it was something that made him respond like that, then it was something that should stay firmly shut. Especially when magic was involved. Who knew what could be sealed in… whatever it was that happened to be sealed up.

Darius looked right at Mianu. It was all he could do. Mianu met his eye just for a moment. Darius could feel his hesitation. He could see the magic still curling around Mianu’s fingers, down his arm, like a snake coiling around its prey.

Then Mianu’s eyes flicked back to the mercenary.

“Release Darius first.”

Mianu’s tone made Darius shiver. Or maybe that was just the way the temperature in the room had dropped even more. But that clearly did nothing to the mercenary.

“And lose the most important card I have on the table?” she said. “Not likely.”

Mianu scowled. “Fine. Then step back. All of you. I think we both know how dangerous this might get.”

It was a warning to Darius as well. But when Mianu looked back at him, he saw something more than that. Mianu’s eyes blazed with determination. He had a plan. All Darius needed to do was trust him.

Darius wanted to nod. To give any kind of sign that he did trust Mianu. But he could hardly even move. So he hoped the look on his face would be enough. And he risked speaking once more.

“Do what you have to do,” he whispered.

Even across the room, Mianu heard. So, unfortunately, did the mercenary.

“Oh, how noble,” she jeered. “A knight’s loyalty in action. However foolish that might be.”

Mianu said nothing. His eyes remained locked on Darius.

“Perhaps I must remind you what’s at stake,” the mercenary hissed.

She must have given some kind of signal. Darius’ head was jerked further back, fully exposing his throat. He couldn’t help another hiss of startled pain. Mianu visibly flinched, his magic surging again.

“Do what we ask, or we kill him,” his captor said simply.

Darius tried to keep his breathing steady. He wasn’t sure if it worked. But he kept his gaze firmly on Mianu, unwavering.

Mianu’s eyes went ice cold. He glared at the mercenary with pure hatred.

“You kill him, and you’ve lost any chance of me doing anything you want,” he hissed. “He dies, and you fall next.”

“Of course,” said the mercenary. She didn’t believe a word. “How about a compromise, hmm? We will step back. Allow you to do what you must. But he stays exactly where he is. And you know what will happen if you fail to comply.”

As though to prove her threat, there was another bright flash. Another spell cast. Darius didn’t have a clue what hit him this time. But he would have buckled under the agony of it if he hadn’t been held up by the hair. He tried to bite back his pain. It didn’t work. A strangled noise burst from his throat.

“I understand,” Mianu said quickly. “Just get out of the way.”

The mercenary laughed. Darius had heard laughs like that before. It was the laugh of someone who had already claimed their victory.

With a single quick order, the other mercenaries immediately went into action. Darius was finally released. His head dropped and he gasped for air, just for a moment. He was sickened by his own sense of relief.

He forced his head back up as quickly as he could. He locked eyes with Mianu. He didn’t even care that the other mercenaries clearly still held his life in their hands. Though they stood back, away from whatever magical object they wanted Mianu to deal with, all weapons and dark spells were trained directly on him. Darius could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on his back.

The leader was the only one who didn’t look directly at him. Her gaze was still firmly fixed on Mianu. Which was made clear by the way Mianu glared back at her.

But then, finally, Mianu looked at Darius again. And he whispered something that even Darius couldn’t hear. But the message was clear just from the shape of his lips.

Brace yourself.

Not an apology. Not any reassurance. Just a warning. The prince had nothing else to give.

There was nothing Darius could possibly do about it. So he nodded, praying that his determination would shine through.

He trusted Mianu with his life. A trust that Mianu had proven himself worthy of time and time again.      

Darius just hoped that Mianu believed that.

Mianu tore his eyes away from the captured knight. He stepped up to the magical artifact. His eyes blazed in the dark, glowing, shining like emeralds. His magic surged, billowing around his arm. Shadows slid up towards his shoulder. Mianu grimaced, his body tensing in the pain it caused.

Darius instinctively struggled against his bonds again. But there was nothing more he could do.

Mianu raised his hand, palm facing outward. Magic pooled in his palm, forming a near perfect sphere. He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. Let all that air out in a slow, quiet sigh.

Then all hell broke loose.

The worst part of it was the sound. The noise alone seemed to pierce right into Darius’ skull. Or maybe into his heart. For at the center of it all—of the howls like beasts, the roar like gale-force winds, the shattering and snapping sounds, the cries of the mercenaries—was one single, haunting scream. Mianu’s scream. It was a broken roar. A feral cry that was more animal than human. The sound of all of his rage and fear and pain bursting out of him.

And his magic exploded out with it. Shadows leaped forward, taking on beastly forms. They attacked the mercenaries without mercy. Despite all their weapons and magic, the mercenaries were clearly unprepared for the onslaught. Some of the magically manifested monsters were struck down. But more appeared to take their place.

Darius lurched forward. His chains bit into his skin. He didn’t care. He shouted out, calling Mianu’s name. Begging for him to stop. He had to stop, no one was meant to wield power like this, it had already cost him, he was just going to hurt himself more…

But Mianu was too far gone. He didn’t hear any of his knight’s cries.

As quickly as it had started, everything ended. The wind died down. The shadows faded, drawn back towards Mianu. The room grew warmer again as the darkness slowly drained away. And everything was silent.

Darius instinctively glanced around, taking in everything that he could. All the mercenaries were on the ground, unmoving. The door that Mianu had burst through was wide open, but no other assailants came through. And now that he could actually turn his head, Darius could see the artifact that had started all this trouble.

It was just a chest. A relatively small one at that. The only two things that stood out about it at all were the familiar insignia etched into the lock and the small, circular mirror built into the lid. Other than that, it could have been any old trunk.  

All this… for something so simple.

Mianu dropped down to his hands and knees. Magic still snared around his bad arm, the shadows pulsing with his heartbeat. He was breathing heavily. He looked far too pale.

Darius tried to fight against his chains again. He didn’t notice how badly he was trembling.

“Mianu!” he called. “Mianu, talk to me, you have to be alright…”

Mianu didn’t respond. He took several more shaky breaths. Then he forced himself to is feet. He swayed, barely able to keep his balance, his opposite hand instinctively clutching at his cursed arm.

“Mianu…”

Darius’ call seemed to bring Mianu back to reality. If only for a moment. He stumbled over to Darius, almost falling to his knees.

“Gods… I’m sorry I took so long,” Mianu gasped out. He immediately grabbed at the chains around Darius’ wrist. Another burst of magic, and the chains turned to dust. “How long have you been bleeding like that?”

“I’m fine,” said Darius. He didn’t know the answer to Mianu’s question anyway, and that would just worry the prince more. “But Mianu, you—”

“Don’t worry about me right now,” Mianu snapped. He grabbed the chains at Darius’ ankles. Those, too, were reduced to dust. “We need to get you some help. Maybe I can…”

Before Darius could say another word, Mianu stumbled to his feet again. He was gone for only a moment before he returned with some torn fabric. Probably from the clothing of one of the mercenaries.

Darius glanced at a fallen form. “Are they… did you…?”

“I don’t know,” said Mianu, already roughly bandaging the wound on Darius’ side. “But I don’t want to stick around to find out.”

As soon as the fabric was tied around Darius’ waist, Mianu stood up again. He hauled Darius up with him. They both stumbled. Darius managed to catch himself first. He grabbed Mianu. The two of them practically fell into each other’s arms. Darius held Mianu tight. His heart was pounding so quickly and violently that he was sure Mianu could feel it. But neither of them seemed to care.

They stayed like that for a moment. Just long enough for a few breaths. Then Mianu pushed Darius away… though he kept a firm grip on his knight’s hand.

“Come on,” said Mianu. “We need to get out of here.”

Darius didn’t argue.

Neither of them were up for much running. Mianu stumbled again and again. Darius pressed his free hand to the wound at his side. But they managed to escape the mercenary stronghold. And they kept moving. They had no idea where they were going. Half the time, they didn’t have it in them to look for any kind of shelter.

But Darius was sure they would find something. They were together. Despite all the odds. Despite all of his own failures.

They would get through anything. They’d done it before.

He just had to hope that Mianu would recover… in more ways than one.

_________

@whumperofworlds I believe you wanted to be tagged in this? And @tildeathiwillwrite you might be interested in this as well (I will absolutely take your tag off if you want me to)

[maccreadysbaby]

Fo4 males when they’re sick? How do they act? How do they react to soles help? Danse post bb please!

coming up, hot and ready

Male Companions When They’re Sick

Danse is a soldier — all his life he’s been trained to suck it up and move on unless he simply can’t, so that’s what he does for the most part. He might be slower, and a bit flushed, but he does what he would normally do even if he doesn’t feel well. It gets worse after Blind Betrayal, because he’s somehow convinced himself he suddenly can’t get sick and doesn’t need to be fussed over. Even if he’s sick to the point where he would’ve told his commanding officer in years past, now he forces himself through it. He will incessantly turn down Sole’s offers to help, and will continue until they basically do it against his will. He won’t complain, but he will remind them often that he is just a machine and isn’t actually sick. But he won’t argue much past that. Will thank Sole a lot, probably adding “even though I no longer require it” or something else self destructive. But, deep down, he really appreciates Sole’s help and it makes him feel… seen.

Sole won’t know Deacon is sick until after, when he tells them in casual conversation. It’s no secret he doesn’t really take care of himself, there’s always some part of him that feels bad at any given time. It’s something he ignores daily, so when he’s sick, it’s extremely easy and convenient for him to simply ignore it. Sole would only know he’s sick at the time he’s sick if it is particularly bad. (Which usually entails fainting or vomiting — the things he can’t hide so easily.) He’ll try and convince them he’s fine, but the fact that he just heaved up a liver usually gives it away. He doesn’t argue with Sole much about taking care of him. He actually becomes pretty apologetic, thinking of himself as a burden on them. But, nonetheless, Sole’s support and willingness to care for him remind him of Barbara, and can even make him a teeny bit emotional if his fever is high enough. But he usually doesn’t remember things if he has a high fever, so it’s okay.

Gage gets irritable when he doesn’t feel good. Well… more irritable than normal. His fuse is like, ten times shorter than usual and he will not hesitate to snap at literally anyone who breaths near him the wrong way. He will be in denial about his sickness until he can’t anymore. Sole will get earfuls about how he isn’t a child and blah blah blah while they take care of him, but honestly, he’s just a whiny little kid and he would just get more irritated if they actually listened to him and stopped taking care of him. He acts all tough but really them taking care of him reminds him of his family before he left and he finds it very comforting.

Hancock doesn’t get sick often, but when he does, it’s usually pretty severe. He’ll try to keep it quiet for a while but will probably just end up telling Sole anyways. If Sole has already proven to him that they’ll be there for him, which they most likely have, he’ll immediately just turn into a bedridden patient. He loves every second of them taking care of him and might just continue to be “sick” for a while. He won’t be upset if they’d rather keep him at a distance, but he would rather just be close to them and be held because it really does make him feel better.

Where MacCready grew up, if someone was sick, all of the other kids avoided them like the plague, except for Lucy (not his wife) and Bumble, the resident medical professionals in Little Lamplight. He’s taken care of himself more than once and, if Sole wants to avoid him, he won’t hold it against them. He hates being sick, too. He is the most likely companion to straight up tell Sole he doesn’t feel good. If they want to avoid him, fine, if they want to help him, fine. If they choose to take care of him, though, they better be ready. Because his normal complaining is amplified by a thousand and he gets pretty delusional if his fevers above, like, 100. Gets extremely emotional. May accidentally call them Lucy because she was the last one who cared for him like that. Will probably cry. A lot.

Nick is most likely to immediately tell Sole he feels off. He’s definitely the most capable of taking care of himself and usually will dismiss their help in fear of them catching whatever he has. But he will eventually let them take care of him. He is pretty normal when sick, not whiny or annoyed like the others. He’s just plain old Nick, probably still working on some type of file in bed and thanking Sole for all the small things they do.

Preston goes into denial immediately. He’s fine, he just needs some water. He can’t just stop working because people don’t just stop being in need. He has major survivors guilt. He is most likely to overcompensate when he’s sick, pushing himself just a little harder, doing just a little more. He simply will not listen to Sole’s pleads for him to lay down until it gets to the point that he feels like or does faint. And Sole will practically have to tie him to a bed or couch to keep him from getting up and going back to work. He feels so guilty for being sick. So guilty. Sole will have to talk him into staying in, and if he does, he will feel horrible about it. But he appreciates Sole for taking care of him and will — eventually — stop talking about working and let them care for him. But he’ll try hard to make up for it after.

X6-88 doesn’t get sick very often, if ever. Sole probably won’t even know. He doesn’t change his demeanor in the slightest unless he feels really, really bad. At that point he’ll usually just zap into the Institute, but if it’s been blown up, he’ll most likely just deal with it by himself. Sole will probably have to manhandle him in order to give any kind of support, but if he’s sick enough that he tells them, it probably won’t be very hard. He never shuts up about what he should be doing, but don’t try to console him — he knows he needs time to recover properly, Sole doesn’t need to tell him that. He’ll just say they’re being annoying.

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

Shadow & Bone 2x03 - “Like Calls to Like”: Quotes

“- Did you expect any less? It’s like you haven’t even met me. Years and years of designs and several dozen crashed prototypes. (Nikolai) - Crashed? (Alina) - I call her the Hummingbird. Next stop... destiny.” (Nikolai) 

“- At least you’re on top of Pekka’s corporate holdings. (Jesper) - You don’t take down a lion by cutting off his tail. (Kaz) - You’ve been on safari when? We’re putting our lives on the line. (Jesper) - I thought you preferred it that way.” (Kaz)

“- Is Inej gonna be okay? (Kaz) - I wouldn’t call myself the most proficient Healer, but she’ll not be a permanent resident here. Not yet anyway. (Nina) - Technically, no one gets buried here anymore. When the firepox plague hit years ago, so many people died that the crematoriums all got backed up, so they had to float all the dead bodies in the harbor.” (Wylan)

“- Stop lurking. Come in or leave me be. (...) I protected you the only way I knew how. I taught you strength, cunning. But never compassion. I see my mistakes now, too late. (Baghra) - There are no mistakes, only lessons. We started this together. Now you’re making me finish it alone. I should’ve murdered the first king I ever met and taken his crown. A lesson. See? (Aleksander) - And the Little Saint? (Baghra) - I will find her. And when I do... (Aleksander) - There was a moment when you might have earned her love, instead of claiming her power. Another lesson? Or maybe just another mistake.” (Baghra)

“- I present Nikolai Lantsov, Major or the 2nd Regiment, Solider of the King’s Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and Second Son to his Most Royal Majesty, King Pyotr the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne. (Colonel) - And in your own words, as I recall, the greenest and most useless grunt you ever had the misfortune of commanding. At your service. I wanted to return sooner, but not without her.” (Nikolai)

“- My brother isn’t known for his thoughtful decision-making.” (Nikolai)

“- I should also like to know if you discover anything that pertains to the connection between amplifier and amplified. For instance, if Alina had survived, might I be able to feel it?” (Aleksander)

“- My jaw feels much better now, thank you for asking. (Nikolai) - You can tell everyone you were punched by a Volcra. Be the least of the lies you’ve told. (Alina) - I thought we had the beginnings of a beautiful friendship. (Nikolai) - Friend don’t hide who they are from each other. (Alina) - You make it sound so simple. You do what you have to protect the people you love. I expect you have some experience with that. My reasons were much the same. As Nikolai Lantsov, royal spare to the throne, there was nothing I could do for the people I love. People of my impoverished, war-ravaged country. Sturmhond, on the other hand... (Nikolai) - Was a pirate. (Alina) - A privateer. How many times do I... (Nikolai) - How is that any more helpful than a prince? (Alina) - A prince is a songbird in a golden cage. A privateer has freedom to cultivate alliances, develop technologies, gather intelligence. Would you have gotten on my ship if I was flying the Lantsov flag. (Nikolai) - I might have set it on fire. (Alina) - Exactly. And I needed to find you. The country needed to find you. But you would have only trusted Sturmhond. Now, we tried once before. Sturmhond. Me. We were... I was responsible for hiring Kaz Brekker and his Crows. (Nikolai) - That was you? I suppose you’re responsible for the Fjerdan bounty as well?(Alina) - No. That is very real. As is my brother’s use of First Army against Grisha. That will stop now that we’re here, I promise. Welcome to the Spinning Wheel. My inventions workshop. It’s become something of a refuge for Grisha.” (Nikolai)

“- Why are you apologizing for something you’re not responsible for? (Zoya) - I know how it feels to lose someone you love. (Alina) - We all know grief. But that guilt, he instilled it in you to make you weak. But you’re the Sun Summoner, you can’t afford weakness.” (Zoya)

“- You’re gonna make me go in there, aren’t you? (Wylan) - Break-in’s the best part.” (Jesper)

“- Whatever this is, this blood feud you have with Pekka Rollins, I don’t believe it’s about some Saints-forsaken club. You are gambling with our lives and I deserve to know the reason. You owe me that much. (Inej) - I killed my brother.” (Kaz)

“- Look for his tells. Any signs of a weakness. (Kaz) - He doesn’t have any. He doesn’t feel pain. (Inej) - Not feeling pain is a weakness. He won’t know when to stop until you put him down.” (Kaz)

“- May Saints receive you and forgive what can be forgiven.” (Inej)

“- If she offers protection, Grisha will follow her, fear her. You want them to fear you. Fear is a powerful ally.” (Tamar)

“- You’re the one who’s afraid, Aleksander. Same as you were as a boy.” (Baghra)

“- We can try to stop this country from falling apart and tel the Fjerdans to shove their bounty up their ass in the process. (Nikolai) - How do you propose we do that? (Alina) - I bring you under the wing of the Royal Family, my name becomes a shelter to you and a banner under which we can enact change. (Nikolai) - Your name? Wait. This is a “proposal” proposal. You’re suggesting marriage. (Alina) - I’m not proposing a love match. Just a political alliance of Grisha and otkazat’sya. (Nikolai) - Well, that’s just what royal marriages are, aren’t they? Strategy.” (Mal)

“- Some cut in half.  - It’s Kirigan, isn’t it? (Alina) - We haven’t been able to find his base camp...  - No way he survived the Fold. (Mal) - He survived it before. Besides, he’s the only one who can do the Cut. Baghra, yes, but this is him.” (Alina)

“- Maybe we never get to marriage.  An engagement signals a strong commitment to cooperation and it will allow us to enact meaningful change for Grisha and Ravka. I’ve seen what you both mean to each other. I understand if you decline, but I hope you weigh the options and consider the benefits. (Nikolai) - He’s... He’s completely insane. Marriage? Like I’m some kind of pawn. (Alina) - I’m surprised he walked out of here without you breaking his nose. (Mal) - I just want this, you know that. (Alina) - So do I. But there’s no us if we snuff it because we’re scrappy orphans who tried to go it by themselves. (Mal) - That’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? (Alina) - You know I’d lay down my life to protect you. (Mal) - Mal... (Alina) - Alina, you’re a living Saint. I might not be enough. You need all the help that Nikolai can offer. As do your friends in the Second Army and my friends in the First. Good people have crawled through the muck next to me and they don’t deserve to be Vasily’s pawns or Kirigan’s fodder. (Mal) - If I were engaged to Nikolai, it would have to look legitimate. You’d be 40 feet away in some line of soldiers, watching. (Alina) - All that matters is that we know what’s real. And what’s real is this. It’s your choice to make. Just know I’m with you no matter what you decide.” (Mal)

“- Actually, you’re walking away for dramatic effect.” 

“- What weapon?  - Suffering.” (Kaz)

“- I’ll admit disappointment. I always felt an affinity for her.” (Aleksander)

“- You’ve come back, Little Saint. I know you, my Alina. Like no one else ever will. You’re dreaming... that this country can still be mended. But once you realize that there can be no future between Grisha and otkazat’sya, I will be waiting for you... with open arms. Sweet dreams.” (Aleksander)

[jasmines-library]

Not All Is Lost - Chapter Three

Summary: You arrive on Zeffo only to find it overrun with Imperials.

Warnings: Canon typical violence/death

Word count: 2.7K

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The ship lulled back and forth as it sped through hyperspace towards the ancient planet of Zeffo. There wasn’t much to see besides the shifting blues of space and so the journey was quiet, with only small talk passing between you all. You couldn't help but let out a small smile when Greez began to complain. 

“All i'm sayin’ is these missions of yours have put a whole lot of wear and tear in my Mantis,”

The ship was far from perfect, it had various dents and parts of the ship were rusting away. It needed a good lick of paint too, mainly to cover up the half-arsed repair jobs. You did have to admit, a lot of it was probably your fault, but that's besides the point.

“It was a masterpiece, but now,” He groaned in disgust, “Just don’t be surprised if I send you a bill,”

Cere scoffed, “Someone’s low on funds,”

“I mean sure, okay…that may be part of it but I’m used to it. Were you rich growing up?”

“Wealth isn’t really a priority for a Jedi,”

You hummed in agreement as you watched Cal take a seat opposite Cere. The many buttons in the co-pilot chair were uneven beneath your fingertips as you fiddled with them.

“Yeah, well I was poor too, but it wasn’t so bad. My crew and I found things to do for cheap. That’s where I learned to play Sabacc,” 

A betting game. Greez wasn’t very subtle about his betting problem, you’d even played it with him a few times. 

“A game which requires credits,” you input, “Strange choice.”

“We were kids. We bet on all kinds of dumb things from food to funny shaped rocks. It changed when we got older. Funny shaped rocks didn’t seem to go as far anymore,”

“The galaxy would be a better place if they did,” you said from your seat next to him. BD watched you curiously as you flicked some switches as you began to prepare the ship to exit hyperspace. As the ship emerged above Zeffo, what looked like a hurricane was raging on the planet's surface.

“Heck of a storm down there,” the captain said, “This might not be the best time to land.”

“Something strange…those winds are interfering with our coms…can you sense anything?”  Cere asked you.

It was an odd sensation. The winds felt almost artificial but you couldn’t place why. You could feel the planet's strong connection with the force. Everything felt amplified. Whoever the Zeffo were, they sure knew how to choose a planet.

“I’m not sure,”  you tell her, “but I don't think those winds are natural…they feel like they’ve been created by something. You were right about the Zeffo being strong with the force…everything seems much more connected,” you told her, recalling something she had told you once. You stood and looked over Cal’s shoulder. As he mentioned Cordova talking about peace in the eye of the storm. Right in the middle of the map was a small but distinct village. It didn’t seem to be giving off much of a heat signature though. Odd. At Cere’s command to reach the village, Greez gritted his teeth and began the descent, annoyed that his precious ship could sustain more damage “Copy that,”

The ship flew towards the surface. The ride was rough though perhaps not as rough as the above view of the storm has suggested. Cal let out a startled gasp as the wind shook the ship violently.

“Couple bumps ain’t gonna kill ya, kid. Unless the wind picks up…” Greez teased, though there was a hint of concern in the way he spoke.

BD beeped in concern.

“Will you tell that bucket of bolts to keep his opinion to himself?”

“I’m sure everything’s under control,” Cere interrupted, breaking up the argument before it got any worse.

“Of course it’s under control.” Greez snapped as he increased the pressure of his grip on the steering wheel, “Just a little tricky,”

The Mantis made a break for the surface through the rough winds and snow. It became impossible to see through the window and you gripped the bottom of your seat. Greez yelled at everyone to hold on. The ship rocked unsteadily back and forth as it reached the landing platform. You were sent forwards with a jolt as it touched down. The window cleared to reveal a landing dock of a factory or spaceport of some kind. The captain let out a successful whoop.

“Perfect landing. Greezy money, baby,”

“But I’m still getting a lot of interference on the comms. It’s gonna take me a minute to get them back up,” Cere said. 

“We’ll search for signs of Cordova in the meantime.” You.and Cal rose from your seats. Now you were on the planet you could feel the hum of the force around you, your healing connection was slowly causing things to feel more complete. With BD-1 secured on Cal’s shoulder, you both made your way towards the door but were stopped short by Cere calling out to you.

“You did good work on Bogano. The more information we gather on Cordova and the Zeffo, the closer we’ll get to stopping the Empire. You’ll need to work together again on this one, Cordova will still be testing you both.”

You thanked her and exited the ship. Cal was close behind you as you took in your surroundings, feeling through the force. Zeffo was a mountainous planet with patches of snow throughout. In front of you stood what must have been an old factory and to your right stood a winding pathway that led to the top of one of the mountains. It was lined with flags that were frayed at the edges. It looked as though it could perhaps lead to the small settlement. Zeffo was similar to Bogano in the sense that it had a strong connection to the force, however it was completely different almost everywhere else. Zeffo was much colder, you could almost see your breath in front of you as you walked. You could also hear the rushing of a waterfall and the churning of some sort of machine. The air was fresh and the sun was high in the sky.  You followed the pathway and soon you came across two large, rat-like creatures, chewing on the remains of an imperial stormtrooper. Just as Cal was about to speak, they lunged forwards towards you, but you easily cut them down with a flick of your lightsaber. BD-1 scanned the body and as he did so, Cere broke through on your coms. There was some interference but you could hear her clearly. 

“The Empire. They’ve found Zeffo,” you told her, looking the terrain in front of you up and down. If the Empire were here then you’d have to work quickly. Maker knows what would happen if they got their hands on the Holocron. 

“If they were following the Mantis we would’ve been swarmed already.”

“Could they be looking for the tombs?” Cal’s voice wavered as he spoke, he was clearing having the same thoughts as you.

“Let’s hope not. Just got our comms working. I’ll try the same workaround to crack into theirs,”

The comm line closed off and you continued to what was clearly a small settlement. The rough terrain below you wore deeply into your shoes. You would probably need to pick up a new pair soon. You made a note to tell Greez later, if you could get past his grumbling. As you rounded a corner Cal unlocked a door that led directly to the ship; a shortcut that would come in handy later. Continuing up the darkened path, blaster fire filled the air. Cal frowned. In Front of the two of you stood four troopers dressed in white plastoid armour, all of them were trying to shoot at Scazz. They were clearly having the same problem you were with Zeffo’s flora and fauna. Taking a step forwards, your sabers already ignited, you charged towards the four, deflecting blaster shots sent your way and redirecting them towards your pursuer in a fatal way. Cal took a running leap at the one furthest away, his blue saber cutting the trooper clean in half. He fell to the ground in a heap. The remaining two troopers backed away slowly, continuing their attack. It was pointless. The pair of you cut through them with ease. You rounded the corner and for the first time you were greeted with a clear view of the village. It was abandoned, save for the many scout troopers patrolling. You pursed your lips. Why were the Empire so keen on guarding Zeffo? Cal watched as you thought, he too was overcome by a sense of struggle. Whoever the Zeffo were, they had only recently been forced off of their planet.

Despite being highly outnumbered, you flanked left as Cal went right. He swung his saber in a circular motion knocking the trooper's weapon out of his hands before knocking him backwards with a kick. The second trooper was quick to raise his weapon, aiming for Cal. You lunged forwards and used the force to send him flying backwards before cutting him down with your saber. More swarmed from the small streets that connected in the centre of the abandoned village. You flicked one of them up with the force as he charged towards you, parrying his attack. He collapsed and the stench of charred flesh filled the air. You continued with your pursuit of the others that surrounded you. Cal sent one man over his shoulders as he blocked blaster fire with his saber, you lept towards him and quickly eradicated the troopers, their surprise and lack of coordination working to your favour as he dealt with the one behind him. Now slightly out of breath, the pair of you scanned the village. As if mocking him, Cal noticed an Imperial poster on the door of one of the houses espousing the benefits of Imperial occupation.

“It’s all lies, the Empire just wanted the land,”

“Yes. But why?”

Cal ignores you, taking out the remaining troopers on the upper levels. You made your way into one of the industrial tunnels carved into the side of the mountain the village was built into. You tried not to think about the carnage you left behind. You had no choice. Keepers of the peace, not soldiers? The words were a sick joke now. The tunnel was dark and damp. With no light coming through the rocks, Cal used his saber like a torch. He held it high above his head and a soft blue light was cast over the cave until you found a switch, opening the turbine above you allowing light into the cave. As you reached a new dimly lit passageway, BD-1, who had remained silent through the whole ordeal, seemed to perk up. The now- familiar voice of Eno Cordova filled up the empty space of the cavern. 

“My friend, in the rotations since I left Bogano I’ve uncovered more about the Zeffo than I once believed possible.”

That’s it – the end of the message. A mere whisper of the past. Emboldened, reminded of why you came here, you both forged on, facing more stormtroopers, and even the strange, horned phillak – another native predator of Zeffo. You were now well past the settlement, but it was obvious that the Empire had embedded a sprawling industrial structure throughout sections of the planet. It was well guarded, but not nearly well enough to defend against a Jedi, let alone two even with some of the advanced weaponry – rocket launchers and assault weapons – that some of the stormtroopers wielded. You sliced through them with ease as if you were a padawan in a training room again. You and Cal were still almost unstoppable, even with your connections to the Force a fragment of what they once were. From the top of the hill you could see the temple you must have been searching for. It was enchanting: standing tall and ornate. The fact that the Empire had built its base within a short walking distance of the cave made it clear that whatever they wanted was in the temple. Making your way into the heart of the industrial section, you watched as a large Imperial ship took off from it. Cere, who Cal called over the comms, told you that they were planning to bring Zeffo artefacts to Coruscant and that it possibly meant that it was the Emperor himself that was interested in Zeffo. You pulled into a dark passage, a more recent one built by the Empire. The path was becoming more difficult, the troopers better armed and more densely concentrated. Inside was an Imperial control station. You flicked a few switches to access the log and a pre-recorded hologram of a stormtrooper flicked to life in front of you.

“In accordance with the Emperor’s will, we’ve occupied Zeffo, redistributing its inhabitants. This planet has failed to yield significant data or relics for Project Augur. Its electromagnetic winds have rendered the bulk of our mining technology useless. Meanwhile, more stormtroopers lose their lives to dangerous fauna,” The trooper spoke with authority, however the speech felt rehearsed and cautious as if he was trying not to upset someone, “We will not be able to fulfil our directive here. It is my recommendation that we disband the project and leave a token outpost to keep scavengers from stealing our technology.”

Cal shut off the message, making a note of the name: Project Auger. He would have to find out more about it later. You then continued through the base, soon coming to a series of enormous horizontal pistons sticking out of the face of the mountain. Each was around  the size of a small starship. The pistons moved like some kind of pump, firing in and out of the mountain’s side. You looked around for another way, albeit with no success. With no other choice, You reached deep into the Force and froze the first in place, then leapt onto it. Cal followed behind, mimicking your actions as you held the platform you were standing on in place. As each piston shot out, you worked together to repeat the process, until you had traversed the entire section of the mountain. As you made your way off of them, Cere’s familiar voice spilled over the com, however it was rushed. 

“The Empire’s pinpointed your location. You need to move fast.”

“On it.,” Cal said, “Thanks,”

You were moving again, but quicker this time. Soon there were more troopers. More dead men. With the Empire now hot on your tail the path became draining. You continued to push further into the mountains. 

***

When you remeraged, you came face to face with the blistering winds that spilled from within a structure similar to the Vault on Bogano. Beyond the storm, you could feel something calling to you. Beckoning to you. 

“I can feel something in there. On the other side of the storm. It feels like something’s calling to me.”

“I can feel it too. We should follow it. Let the Force sharpen our instincts.”

The steps crumbled beneath your feet as you pushed your way through the blistering winds. As you got closer to the temple the call was getting stronger. It’s whispered swirled around in your mind. You crawled through the caves, stickly closely behind Cal. When you came out of the shadowy tunnel, you watched as the winds circled the centre of the structure.

“I’ve never seen a storm do that before,”

BD-1 beeped.

“Yeah, it’s incredible,”

You force your way through, narrowly missing the rocks that were being flung around by the wind. You made your way into the structure where a large golden ball sat in the centre, the storm seemed to be rotating around it – tightly contained within the confines of the ruin. The dais the ball was sitting on was actually an elevator of some kind; Cal activated it, and the entire structure began to descend into the planet.

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[moonlit-jeno]

Anonymous said: 58 + rough lucas pls 🥺

requests are closed!

warnings: explicit sex, choking

word count: 2.4k

Xiaojun’s room has always been your favorite. It’s clean, smells good, and best of all, has the biggest bed. Not to mention the softest blankets. It’s really a shame that you’re about to ruin them, but you figure it’s fine. He owes you for all the homework you did for him your first year here. Plus, you’ll buy him some laundry detergent as consolation.

The golden trophy in your hand glimmers under the LED lights illuminating the room, and the corners of your mouth twitch up. It’s your name engraved on the trophy, rightfully naming you the best team captain. Seeing it makes pride fill your veins, happiness filling you at the physical evidence of all of your hard work paying off. Only one other person deserves this award as much as you- not that you’d tell him that. You wonder what he’s doing at this moment. If he’s enjoying the party downstairs with his friends, or if he’s sulking in the backyard.

Xiaojun’s door bursts open. “You know damn well that I deserve that award.” Lucas growls, kicking the door shut behind him. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. “You only got it because they knew that you would bitch and complain about losing for the rest of eternity.”

Lucas, the fun, easygoing party guy that gets along with everyone, constantly leading his team to victory whether it’s in a game, practice, or even class. Well, everyone except for you. Not that it’s entirely his fault; you do tend to make it your mission to annoy the living shit out of him every chance you get. Is it fun? Absolutely. You pout at him mockingly, jumping to your feet and moving towards him until there’s barely any space between you. “Really? So you’re telling me that I don’t deserve the award?”

“Yeah, actually. That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m surprised that got through your dense fucking skull.” This is definitely the most agitated you’ve ever seen him. It’s exciting. “I’m not here for small talk,” Lucas says, head tilted to the side so he can look you up and down, bite his lip. “I’m here to fuck your brains out.”

There’s no opportunity for you to respond, for you to even make a noise as he crushed your mouths together. Your moan gets lost in his lips as he drinks you in greedily, one of his hands sliding up to cup your jaw and angle you to his liking. He spins you around and pins you to the wall, his free hand resting above you.

“Fuck, Lucas,” His kisses have you feeling drunk in the best possible way and you let your head tilt back to rest against the wall behind you, incapable of doing anything besides tangling your fingers in his hair and moaning at the feel of his lips against your skin. “God, you’re so...” You trail off as he nips at your throat, soothing the skin with his tongue. The hand on your ass slides to your hip, grip tightening as you sag into his touch.

“So what? Amazing?” Lucas finishes for you, grinning up at you when you groan. “Handsome? Godlike? I know.”

“Annoying.” You deadpan, using your grip on his hair to pull his lips back to yours. The laugh he lets out is smooth and vibrates against you, cutting off into a low growl when you bite at his lower lip, suck his tongue into your mouth. In turn, he slides his hand up to your throat, petting his thumb over the soft skin above your jugular.

He breaks the kiss and you whimper before you can stop yourself, inadvertently chasing his lips. The smile that lights up his features at your actions does nothing to break you out of your haze and you watch him through half lidded eyes, captivated by him. “Baby,” He whispers, hand now sliding up so that he can brush his thumb against your lower lip. “Shouldn’t you be nicer to me?”

“I don’t know.” The brain fog you have from just looking at him makes it hard for you to think of any of your normal responses, and you fight to think of something to say. “Shouldn’t you be fucking me?”

“I don’t know.” Lucas repeats, dark eyes never once leaving yours. “Can you handle it?”

You push against him, your need to have the upper hand winning the battle in your mind to just submit and let him have his way. Lucas, intrigued, lets you switch positions so that it’s him pushed up against the wall. “Handle what? Disappointment?”

“Oh, baby.” Lucas murmurs, hands moving down your body so that he can squeeze at your waist, down to your hips. “The only thing to be disappointed in is yourself for not sleeping with me earlier.” He lifts you with ease, throwing you over his shoulder as he pushes off of the wall. An indignant squeak leaves you at the ease he lifts you with and he shushes you with a smack to the ass. “But fine. You wanna be a brat? You’re gonna get fucked like one.”

Gentle giant is often used to describe Lucas. You wouldn’t quite say that it’s accurate.

Not as he tosses you onto the bed like you’re nothing, crawling on top of you and kissing you deeply. Not as he commands the kiss so easily, taking everything that he wants and nothing less. And definitely not as his hand slides up under your dress, tugging at your panties so hard that they rip.

There’s no promises from him to buy you a new pair, or even an apology. Because this isn’t a gentle fuck. This is Lucas trying to prove a point to you. Or maybe it’s Lucas taking out all of his bottled up frustration and anger on you. Either way, it’s well deserved and if this is what being a nuisance gets you, you might just have to annoy him more often.

A cry leaves you when two of his fingers enter you, stretching you out deliciously enough that you have to break the kiss to suck in some oxygen. Your hands grasp desperately onto his shoulders, clinging to him like he’s your life line while he smirks, working his fingers into you knuckle-deep. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you arch against him in an attempt to feel him deeper, eyes rolling back when he brushes your g-spot at the same time that he starts rubbing your clit. “That’s so good, fuck. Why are your hands so nice?”

He laughs. “You like my hands?” His free hand moves to your throat when you nod. “Like them here?” You nod frantically.

“More.” You plead, grabbing his shoulders tighter and hoping he gets what you’re trying to say. He doesn’t disappoint.

The digits on your throat press a little tighter, gradually cutting off your oxygen supply. Your eyelids flutter and your mouth opens in a silent moan, all of the sensations running through you getting to be too much. The fuzziness in your brain is only amplified by your lack of air, the heat pooling in your belly burning red hot as Lucas plays your body like an instrument. And the way that he looks at you, like he wants to nothing more than destroy you...

Just as it’s getting to be too much, he releases the pressure on your neck. The sudden intake of oxygen, the feeling of his lips on your throat, his fingers speeding up inside of you- it’s all so overwhelming, feeling him around you like this. You’re helpless as you come, crying out his name and every other curse you can think of, gripping onto him as tightly as you can in an attempt to ground yourself from the immense pleasure running through you.

Lucas works you through your high, not stopping even when you shake with oversensitivity. He keeps going right until you gasp out his name, moan that you’re going to come again. You whine then, high in your throat, sounding desperate even to you. It makes Lucas smile. 

“Oh, baby.” He tsks, shakes his head. His large palm cups your cheek and his fingers prod at your lips, smile only growing when you take the digits into your mouth. “If you wanted to come again, you should’ve been a good girl.” “I am a good girl.” You sniff, finding the strength to glare at him. He laughs, rolling off of you to dig through the nightstand.

“You are? Then act like it.” He finds what he was looking for, the tearing of a condom filling the air, and turns back to you. “Hands and knees, baby. Show me how good you can be.”

The fabric of your dress is discarded while Lucas rolls the condom on and then you’re completely naked, feeling the softness of the blankets against you as you settle into his requested position. His hand comes down hard on your ass and you yelp, elbows nearly buckling. You manage to stay upright. “Come on baby, you can do better than that. Arch a little.” His hand is heavy on your lower back and he presses down until your body aches and you can’t physically bend anymore. “There we go.”

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, the teasing as he never pushes in enough to make you delirious with need. “Lucas, come on.” You groan, trying to fuck yourself back on him. “Put it in already.” “Where are your manners?” He scolds, sliding his cock through your folds, nudging your clit. You have pride, but not enough to torture yourself like this. It doesn’t take much to make you fold. “Fuck, Lucas, come on. Please fuck me.” When he doesn’t yield, you look back over your shoulder and pout. “Please? I need it so bad, I’ll do whatever you want.” “Whatever I want?” His smile is present in his voice and he laughs softly. “Oh baby, you’re going to regret that.” There’s no time to focus on his words because then he’s pushing into you, filling you up deliciously. He’s big, splitting you in half to the point where you can’t do anything but moan and wiggle around, trying desperately to accommodate his impressive size. Not that Lucas helps with that.

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust before he’s fucking into you, hips slamming against your ass and filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin on skin. Your arms shake with the difficulty of holding yourself up, giving out completely when his hand slides up between your shoulder blades and shoves you down to the mattress. 

“Fuck,” You sob out, jaw going slack at the pleasure threatening to drown you. Your hands grip at the sheets desperately, holding on for dear life as Lucas grips at your hips and uses that as leverage to fuck you even harder. The orgasm he’d built you towards earlier is racing towards you at full force and you clench around him, his name falling off of your tongue as a curse. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop. ‘M gonna come.” “Again?” His tone is mocking but he listens to you, fucking you at a constant speed, cock hitting deep inside of you. “Mhmm, you must’ve been really desperate for my cock if you’re coming this easily.”

It’s kind of true. You’ve always thought that Lucas was hot, especially when you riled him up, but this… This is something else entirely. This is something better than you ever could have imagined.

The intensity of your orgasm scares you and you mumble out curses that get lost in Lucas’s mouth when he turns your head to meet your mouth in a sloppy kiss that’s more tongue and teeth than anything. You kiss him back needily, only breaking the kiss when it gets to be too much. Your orgasm washes over you slowly, starting gently but building until it’s almost too much to handle, drowning you in it’s intensity. It leaves you feeling wiped out, your head spinning from the pleasure, body heavy with sleep. 

Lucas groans out your name as he comes, hips stuttering, teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his cries. The pain helps to ground you and you sigh out softly, hand moving behind you to stroke his hair. He languidly thrusts into you before pulling out, turning you over so that he can kiss you. 

This kiss is softer than the other ones, less rough and frantic and more caring, tender. He pulls away, thumb rubbing over your cheek bone, and smiles before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You feel cold without him on top of you and you grab a pillow to cuddle in his absence, watching as he shoots the condom at the trash can and misses. He laughs sheepishly and tosses it into the trash before leaping back into bed, wrapping himself around you. You snuggle into him gratefully, happy for the warmth. 

“We can’t stay in here for long.” You say, even as you have to force the words out through a yawn and can feel your eyelids drifting shut. “Xiaojun will kill us.” “I don’t think he’ll mind too much.” Lucas laughs, brushing some of your hair out of your face. “If he does, I’ll deal with it.” You laugh and shake your head.

“I can’t believe we’re cuddling. Fucking is one thing, but cuddling?”

Lucas pouts. “I mean, I can leave if you want.” He moves as if trying to get up and you whine in protest, snuggling even closer.

“No, I want you to stay.” Your face feels a little warm at the confession and you hope he can’t feel it. “You make a good pillow.” Lucas laughs in response, and it’s silent for a while until he speaks again. “You know y/n, you’re better than any award.” Lucas says, smiling softly. You’re about to call him cheesy or cringe at his sweetness, but he’s quick to follow up with an “I’ll still take the trophy, though.”

You try very hard not to tell him to shove the trophy up his ass.

[shesquiinnsane-a2]

—☆   CHRISTINA   ||   @fallesto​   ♢

You boys need a new boss, a better boss A maniacal, terrifying boss with a hands-on, not-afraid-to-torture-people management style.

HAHA. It didn’t hurt anymore - nothing hurt anymore. She had been AFRAID of what was happening to her. The loss of her BABY was the lowest moment of her life, it was when she fell into the DARKNESS. When she thought all was LOST to her. ONE BAD DAY. That was it, but as much as she wanted to DIE in that hospital. But someone had SAVED her, got BLOOD to her at the last moment possible and when she left the hospital, it was with a skip in her step and a SMILE on her face, the worst day of her life had TURNED into the best day of her life. It had started SMALL, barely noticeable. Her skin flaking, her hair slowly losing its color, her eyes looking DIFFERENT like SOMEONE else's. Her mood would change at any MOMENT, her LAUGHTER could not be controlled and at that BOARD MEETING, there was NO holding back, NO hiding, NO pretending, she just let it all OUT and there was NO going back now.

“You mean ME and YOU - look at ALL the NASTIES you have BROUGHT here for ME. What ya been FEEDING them - other GOONS?” It was the WORST parts of the JOKER, the extreme characteristics dialed right up to the MAX. Every single trait he had, amplified. All stuck in this BODY and ready to BURST. The NEED to be the BEST. The HUNGER for the POWER. The POSSESSIVENESS of HARLEY. The DRIVE to BEAT Batman. The amount of time she had been here, she had developed Stockholm Syndrome on the WORST person POSSIBLE - Batman, but now with FREEDOM - it was slowly LATCHING onto the JESTER.

“Tell YOUR men to KILL Robin on SIGHT, to CRIPPLE and then BLUDGEON Nightwing when they see him and to LEAVE Batman ALONE - I want him ALL to myself.”

NOT A SHOWRUNNER. 

But the blonde made for a good SECOND-IN-COMMAND.

She had the trust and loyalty and if Harley hadn’t brought ALL of them together ,   if they hadn’t managed to sneak away from the Batman TOGETHER then this would have been for nothing.   Harley had EARNT her spot in front of Christina ,   the last remaining piece of his LEGACY.   Something Harley had tried to guard with her life.   She’d had people SURROUNDING her ,   and Henry Adams had tried his best to convince Batman that he was still SANE.   It had been a process ,   a plan ,   followed to the LETTER before she’d been betrayed once more.   Maybe that was the PROBLEM with the virus ,   the very last thing it NEEDED was a betrayal ,   and over and over again she’d been the VICTIM of that.   But this time things were going to be different.   Harley was going to get HER way ,   and even if Christina hadn’t been her Joker ,   she was still A JOKER ,   and that meant Harley had something to live for.

❝ I THINK we can do this together an’ prove ‘em all WRONG !! ❞   Harley bit her lip ,   looking at her new partner with ADMIRATION.   If only she had the courage to pull off something SIMILAR.   It wasn’t likely ,   but Harley knew that where she stood wasn’t about giving ORDERS ,   but passing down messages.   She wasn’t the CREATIVE mind behind it all and where she stood was exactly where she WANTED to be.   ❝ But this is all for you and I think it’s what he WANTED.   For all of us to be together.   Now I know that things went WRONG and I’mma sorry it isn’t you and ALL of ‘em because someone didn’t know how to stay in his place but PLEASE.   I need to be here with you and we can DO this.   I’ve been trying on my own but I’m ,   we ,   are nothing without a JOKER.   These people ,   they’re your men now. ❞   She SALUTED ,   her gun resting against her body ,   barrel pointed UPWARDS.   ❝ C’mon then boys !!   We got some birdies to catch !! ❞

[whumpersdump]

Project Rebirth - CH4: Final Touches

Content! From Whumper’s POV. (They’ll get a title soon btw, I just haven’t decided on a name yet).

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TW: (None of these are graphic) Restraints / blink-and-you-miss it use of  “it” as a pronoun / dehuminization / non-con surgery (non-graphic, whumpee isn’t awake) / lab whump / pet whump / sedation / sensory deprivation (not from Whumpee’s POV) / brain-fiddling? (he talks of an implant that restricts basically everything from speaking to moving. It’s mentioned, not shown)

Everything is set for the first practical stage of Project Rebirth to begin. All that is need is some final surgical attention, and a last talk to Whumper’s new investors. Also no editing we die like Toby’s previous owner...

Whumper sat next to Subject One, like he had every moment of spare time in the past five days. The last two, they barely twitched a muscle. Of course this was in part because of the starvation, but it was nice to have achieved nonetheless. Even if would wear of. Their body may be still, but the occasional twitch, hitch of a breath, told him their mind was racing.

He already picked out a name for them. Their masterpiece, even if it would take nine months before he would see their frantic eyes again. Everything was prepared. Their nursery—which was a rather misleading name, but it fit the process, and the marketing—was almost done, the housing facility would be complete in three months.

Subject One was the only one who really needed to be in the container for the sake of the time that it would give Whumper, but the aspect fit the aesthetic his investors expected. It would be what kept the program running for decades to come.

Subject One shuddered. They’d gotten the message. He’d chosen one of his newly acquired sponsors to deliver it through the earpieces. Not because it needed to be. He could just as easily move, then sedate the subject. Make the chaos in their mind spike just before they’d awake in ominous calm. Comforting calm, though it would take a while for the subject to feel about in that way. They had nine months, it would be enough.

The sponsors needed to feel special anyway. Some of them could make perfect pets, the way they seemed to crave special attention. He could try it someday. With this Project, even they could be reborn.

He nodded at Toby. “Bring them to the surgeon. It’s time for stage 3.”

Toby exited the corner he’d been standing in for the past day. It was a test, to see how obedient he really was. So far, Whumper had been pleased. Sure, seeing pets shiver at the thought of accidentally moving a muscle without permission could be rewarding, but it didn’t bring the type of productivity he needed. Toby’s compliant personality, in combination with Whumper’s training, did.

Toby reached for the subject’s shoulder like he always did.

“Not anymore, Toby,” Whumper commanded. “No more touching of any kind. You can move them, tube and all.”

Toby obeyed. With precision, he took the hand truck out of place and rolled it over to the doors that opened to the medical wing. Subject One would feel this, but it wasn’t enough to skew the results. If anything, it could amplify the result he was looking for.

He followed behind Toby, but entered the door to the watching room instead of the OR like Toby did. That’s where his funding was waiting. He hated having to care about it, but money was simply necessary for him to scale up the Project. “Thank you for coming back,” he told the seven investors waiting for him. “As I’ve said before, most of the program is completely tailored to your pet and the pet you wish they become. That means, no program looks or feels the same. This part though, they all have in common.”

He guided their gazes down to the OR—where the surgeon had sedated the subject—and begun the procedure. Toby watched from his corner, as Whumper had told him to. This would be the only time he was allowed this close to a subject before Rebirth, so Whumper made sure he knew as much as possible. The pet didn’t lie. He used to, but his previous owner trained it out of him.

If he were to fulfill any purpose at all in the future, he would have to learn to. Knowing about the stages before meeting the Reborn subjects was a good way to teach them. After all, he’d be the one to truly push the subject’s minds over the edge.

The investors patiently waited for Whumper to explain what was happening. “The implant all subjects receive is what makes this project so realistic. Like a newborn child, they have to learn everything. Eating, speaking, resisting, if you want them to. All in an effort to recreate them into the pet they were always meant to be. Now of course, some of them have skills we do want them to keep. Take Toby down there, he’s a master on the piano. For each pet, the implant’s functions can be customized.”

One of the investors raised her hand. “What are your plans for this one then?” she asked. “Does it have anything worth keeping?”

Whumper smiled. “In a less dire situation, we might have chosen to keep certain parts of them, but as you’ve noticed this is not the average pet we’re talking about. They will be reborn a blank slate. The only thing any pets are allowed to keep is their understanding of language—so they can obey commands, and their ability form minimal amounts of coherent thought and memory. We’ve found that this process works best if to some extent, the pets are aware of the changes. A risk, I know, especially with this one, but it will prove efficient.”

He straightened his tie. “This one in particular has quite the mouth, and they tend to use a bit too much of what they hear against their trainers. For that reason, we’ve limited their access to their vocabulary a bit more than usual. They’ll be able to understand simple sentences, but we won’t have to worry about their natural perceptiveness.”

“What’s he doing to their eyes?” a second investor asked.

Whumper’s heart fluttered. He’d hoped they’d ask. “Those, are highly sophisticated remote-controlled lenses.” They weren’t necessary, they function was mostly aesthetical from the subject’s perspective. They helped make it all a bit more realistic on both sides, though.

“They don’t have to be removed, ever. Which is why we’re putting them in so early. They control the subject’s ability to see color, and light. Like them implant, we can control them from behind the scenes. They aren’t vital, but they smooth out the transition from the Rebirth into the following stages of the program.”

He glanced down into the OR, where the surgeon was finishing up, and the other staff had begun to prepare the subject for stage 4’s container. “I’m afraid that I can’t show you anymore at this point, so my staff can take on this challenge with as little distraction as possible. However I’m happy to answer as many of your questions as I can.”

Several hands shot up. Whumper smiled.

“What are they doing?” Was the first question.

Whumper gazed down. Four people were removing the restraints and the jacket, and outfitted the subject in the thin white suit that would help keep them healthy and alive throughout the following stage.

They connected the dozens of tubes and wires that would take care of everything they couldn’t handle from outside the container, as he called it. “I’m afraid this is another one of those trade secrets, but what I can tell you is that in spite of how it looks, this will make the pre-Birth stage as realistic as it can be.”

“What about these nurseries that your people kept going on about. I’m sure they’re important, but it all sounds a bit too… human for my taste. I prefer my pets are used to the necessary restraints and housing conditions, so to speak.”

Whumper nodded. He wasn’t surprised to hear this investor thought his standard approach too kind. She’d demanded her pets were kept muzzled and bound at the facility’s daycare, even though they were among the most compliant creatures he’d ever seen.

“As I said,” he answered. “Everything can be customized. This subject I believe, will gain more from approach that teaches them that as a placeable pet, they will be cared for as long they don’t resist. Should you trust us with your pets though, if we decide after the evaluation that another approach may achieve the desired results more efficiently, we’re prepared. We have nurseries of all kinds, and our staff is prepared to fulfill any role they need to play.”

That seemed to please them. Whumper turned to the last question.

“How long does this program take?”

“We have multiple options. The standard program Subject One will go through can take up to sixteen years starting at the Rebirth, with a minimum time of three years. Now of course, that is a long time for a pet to be away. We have two accelerated programs that last either a few months, or even just a few weeks. You’re free to choose, but after the evaluation we will provide you with a suggestion. Not all pets need the full experience. Especially if they’re not old enough to be placed, a longer program can harm the natural development.”

A frown formed on a few faces.

“I can see you’re worried about the results I’ve promised you. You won’t have to wait long. The program may be an intense procedure, but the results will start to show after just a few weeks. The rest of the Project is about making them last, so these—” He dangled the subject’s bright red collar in front of them— “will soon be no more than a reminder of what I’ve solved.”

Whumper clasped his hands. The subject was moved out of the OR, into the container hall. “I must go now. My assistant will be up shortly to escort you out. I should mention Toby’s not allowed to be too talkative around strangers, but he’s still learning. If he breaks any rules, please contact me. He doesn’t respond well to strangers punishing him, he’s a bit too loyal for that.”

Taglist (asks are open if you wanna be added or removed): @suspicious-whumping-egg

[angstywishes]

Test Subject Finley - Entry No. 1 (”Read the Fine Print”)

(okay, screw it, i’m just going to start at the beginning!)

(CWs: MEDICAL WHUMP for the whole series (don’t like don’t look), kidnapping, drugging, collars, electrocution.) (this is just the setup so there isn’t much whump yet but i plan to get very whumpy very quickly very very soon!)

*:･ﾟ✧

Finley needs a big break. Badly. He's lost everything, his apartment, his job. He can't make it alone, he needs help. He needs a miracle. The flier reads “Testers for Clinical Trial needed. $150 per day. If interested, contact Dr. Syrus Blackwood.”

Shaking hands pocket the piece of paper, folding it carefully as to not tear it. It's a blessing, a gift, surely, from some benefactor watching over him. He doesn't want anyone else to find it. He needs it, needs this chance at turning his life around.

Perhaps it would have been better if he didn’t find it.

The appointment is easier to schedule than he thinks it’s going to be. The doctor hasn't gotten many callers, apparently, and Finley can't fathom why. They seem so genuine over the phone when he calls. If a little eccentric, and socially awkward, but that seems standard for a genius. The office they meet in is extravagant, and Finley feels suddenly very out of place when he enters, tugging at his scarf as he sits down across from Dr. Blackwood.

He takes just a moment to take everything in.

The doctor is tall, about a head taller than Finley. They’re dressed sharply, the white of their lab coat starkly contrasting the black outfit they’re wearing underneath. Their long hair is swept up into a ponytail, and their glasses perch perfectly on the bridge of their nose.

Finley thinks idly to himself that they are the spitting image of an esteemed doctor.

“Finley Auburn,” The doctor addresses him, breaking him from his stupor, “Correct?”

“Y-yes, that's me,” He nods quickly in response. Is he making a good impression? Does it matter?

“You already know that I am Doctor Syrus Blackwood. It's good to meet you,” They cock their head to the side, ponytail falling along with it. “You're certain you want to participate?”

“Yes!” Finley leans forward a bit, then stops, leaning back nervously. Too eager. Too much. “I-I mean, if you think I'm a good fit-”

“Relatives?” Syrus cuts him off.

“E-excuse me?”

“Do you have any relatives, Mr. Auburn?” The doctor restates, seeming a small bit exasperated.

Oh, dear. Finley is being irritating, isn't he? “N..No,” He answers, only partially telling the truth. Technically, there's his mother.. But.. She's said she wanted nothing to do with him anymore. So, that’s that, he guesses.

“I see,” Comes the doctor's reply. Then; “Education?”

Finley bites back a long-winded explanation he is sure the doctor doesn't need to hear. “H..Highschool level..? I-I'm not currently in school.”

The doctor notes something down, and then turns a page, holding out the clipboard to Finley. Hand trembling with nerves, the man takes the pen and signs on the indicated line. He forgets to read what it says, and realizes as much just too late, as the board is pulled away.

Syrus reaches into their pocket, pulling out a bottle.

“Then, we begin now. If you will, Mr. Auburn.”

Hesitantly, Finley takes the bottle from the doctor's hand, and opens it. The pills inside are sanguine and translucent, and look easy enough to swallow.

“..What do they do..?” He asks, looking up.

“If they work properly, you won't need to worry about any adverse side effects. They won't hurt you.”

Swallowing anxiously, Finley thinks of college, and shuts his eyes, downing two red capsules. His eyes don't open back up for some time.

..

“Up,” a voice commands, distantly, through the haze.

Finley's eyelids seem to stick shut, and don't want to open. The voice can wait, just a bit. It will be fine. Surely.

“I said, UP.”

A sharp pain shoots through Finley's chest, and he springs upright, arm wrapped around himself as he wheezes, reeling from the sensation of a shoe connecting with his ribs. The room is blinding white, amplifying the buzzing LED overhead. It smells of ethanol and medicine. Like a hospital. He coughs, the scent so strong it makes his eyes water. Before him is Dr. Blackwood, standing over him, something small and black in his hand.

“Mr. Auburn. Please stand all the way up,” They cross their arms, tapping their foot.

Finley blanks. He doesn't know where he is- What happened- He's sitting on the floor some kind of hospital room, did the medicine have a bad affect on him- His thoughts are cut short as a jolt runs through his body, starting at the back of his neck and sending a tremor through his spine. The explosive pain bursts through him in sparks, forcing his eyes shut as he curls in on himself.

“Stand. Up.” The command rings clear through the air. Shaking, slow, Finley pushes against the wall and tries to stand. It's hard- his body wants to lock up and stay still, his muscles ache. But somehow, he stands.

“W..What's going on?” He manages, fingers drifting to his neck. A collar, he's wearing a collar. Dread pools in his stomach, eating its way into a pit like acid, crawling inside him like insects.

Dr. Blackwood doesn’t respond at first, and takes some time to note something down. The dread eating away at Finley turns to panic setting in, as he looks around and realizes there are no windows. Just the one door, and a bed- surgical and stiff. This isn’t right.

“You seem confused,” The doctor finally speaks up, “Need I explain it to you? You belong to me.”

The panic becomes sheer terror. Finley’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he begins to hyperventilate. This isn’t right, this isn’t right. His mouth opens up and words start coming out before he can stop them. “I- I want to go home! I d-didn’t sign up for-”

“Ah, but you did sign the form, Mr. Auburn. Don’t tell me you didn’t read it?” The doctor cuts him off, words coming out slightly too joyful to sound like they carry any pity. And what’s more.. The doctor is smiling. “I’m so very glad to have you on board as my permanent test subject, Finley. We’ll do wonders for the world of medicine together, don’t you think?”

And the terror culminates into horror as he watches the doctor turn to leave, jingling a keyring around their finger.

“I’ll be right back with your first treatment. Sit tight!”

With no choice in the matter, no way out, Finley sits, and obeys.

[chillassimagines]

Pause - Peter Hale Smut

(REQUESTED)

“You available?” You asked in a rushed tone as you held the phone to your ear.

“Um, yeah, I’ve got time. Are you alright?” You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent tears from running down your face.

“I uh...whoo! This is rough, um...fuck. Okay, so, I may or may not be in heat, and...it makes me emotional sometimes, because I’m single and I...I need someone to fuck my brains out.” You prayed to god he didn’t judge you, because you were already parked across the street from his house. A long silence followed over the line.

“Y/N, do you have the right number?” You rolled your eyes and huffed.

“Yes, Peter, I have the right fucking number.” You smacked your hand against the steering wheel, accidentally honking. A shorter silence followed.

“Come inside.” You hung up and placed your phone in your purse before grabbing it and exiting your car. He might’ve been watching you cross the street, but you had no idea, because you kept your head down and focused on the gravel instead of your bubbling heat inside of your body. You opened the door to his home and closed it behind you. You slipped off your shoes slowly to be able to hear where he was.

You left your purse on a side table by your shoes and made your way upstairs to where his heartbeat was coming from.

“Hey, Peter.” He looked over from the window to you with a hint of concern on his face.

“Sit.” He pointed to the sofa across from where he sat and you followed his direction immediately. You couldn’t sit still as you anxiously twiddled your fingers around.

“I understand if you want me to leave, I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I thought that you’d be more likely to-”

“Pause.” He commanded. You quickly shut your mouth and looked down at your hands. “You just asked me to “fuck your brains out” and now you’re sitting there like a kicked puppy?” You swallowed and nodded.

“Sorry...I-I don’t even know what I was thinking.” You had half a mind to get up, walk out, and avoid Peter until the day you died.

“Yeah, you didn’t know what you were thinking. You came over here thinking that I wouldn’t question this?” You bit the inside of your cheek again, inwardly cursing yourself because you didn’t feel the need to cry.

“I mean, I don’t know. Part of me was just...hopeful, that you’d just run with it. It’s obvious I shouldn’t be here, so I’ll just go.” You stood up and went to leave.

“Sit. Down.” You kept your eyes on your feet as they widened like saucers. You slowly sat down in your previous spot, making no attempt to look up.

“Okay.” You whispered and your hands squeezed around your kneecaps nervously.

“This can’t be off of an impulse. How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you craved me?” Crave? Such a...primal word. It was a question that was hard to answer.

“Um...I don’t exactly know? Maybe a long time. Maybe um, I should probably leave.” You moved an inch before you heard a growl. You pushed yourself back onto the sofa quickly.

“A long time is, well, a long time to wait. You have that patience I’ve noticed, since I met you. Do you have endurance, though? Stamina?”

What the fuck is he talking about?

“I mean, I guess. Peter, what do you want from me?” You felt his hand at your jaw which caught you way off guard.

“No no no, princess. What do you want from me?” He lifted your face up so you were forced to look into his blue eyes. “C’mon, tell me again, what it is that you desire?” His voice carried a light tone, but the words held something much darker.

“Fuck my brains out.” His lips quirked up slightly.

“Who?” You couldn’t breathe.

“You, Peter.” He gripped your waist with his other hand to bring you to your feet and press you against him. You took a sharp inhale of breath at the motion.

“You listen so well. Can you feel me? Can you feel how long I’ve patiently waited for you?” His hold on your jaw became slightly tighter as you could feel his hardness press up against your aching core.

“Y-Yes.” You whimpered, feeling the heat boiling your skin. Peter leaned in and merely rubbed his lips against yours.

“I’ve craved you, Y/N. Not just these soft lips, not just your heat crying for me...” His hand moved from your waist to your ass, rubbing you against his length. You were fucking speechless. “but your soul, your heart, and I need you to promise me that it can all be mine.” You had absolutely no idea that Peter could be so passionate, or that he felt this way.

“I-I promise. I promise.” As you spoke your lips rubbed once more against his and they sent tingles down your spine everytime they grazed.

“Then that’s all I ask of you. Are you prepared?” Prepared? He’s gonna rock your whole world.

“I hope so.” You leaned up to press your mouths together for the first time and it was like unleashing a fire. You wrapped your arms around his his mid section and let your hands grip him by his shoulder blades. He urged your body to follow his as he backed up to an unknown destination. You literally followed blindly, allowing yourself to be consumed by his lips.

“I can’t imagine that you’re cold.” Peter spoke breathlessly, separating his mouth from yours. You smiled and shook your head no. His hands removed your shirt from your body and then his. You occupied yourself by removing your pants and unzipped his.

“Peter, they’re too tight.” You complained about his jeans. You noticed the destination was his bedroom, so you invited yourself to lay back on his bed. He shook his head with a chuckle as he peeled his jeans off.

“You give up too easy, princess.” He crawled onto the bed and you opened your propped up knees. He caresses your knees and moved down to your thighs. He lifted a leg onto his bare shoulder to softly kiss it. “I won’t allow that any further.” Your heart accelerated at that statement. You couldn’t take the sudden overwhelming tightness of your bra, so you took it upon yourself to remove it while he graced your thigh with his mouth.

“Maybe if you sped up this pace.” You grasped your breasts in your hands as he finally looked down at you.

“You might regret that.” He grasped your other thigh and flipped you onto your stomach. You gasped as your world literally spun. Your leg was extended back to Peter’s shoulder still. He ran his hand up your thigh to your dampened panties. You directed your gaze down to his hand as a nail extended out. He ran it right down the middle of your underwear, tearing it in half.

“Peter.” You said, very shocked by the action. His nails retracted as you watched him insert two fingers inside of you making your eyes roll back. “Fuck, Peter.” You whined out at his slow proceedings.

“Your patience must have been used all up on waiting to come to me. You’ve deprived yourself of our natural instinct, princess...that’s not fair to your tight, hot, wet, body.” He thrusts his fingers harshly inside of you as he describes your current state, making you let out a long moan.

“I’m sorry...I did, I did.” You dug your nails into the bed while grinding back into his fingers.

“You want my forgiveness, beautiful girl?” He leaned over you to whisper in your ear while driving his fingers into your core relentlessly.

“Yes, please, Peter! Forgive me, please!” You cried, needing to feel him inside of you.

“Since you said please...” He snatched his fingers from your warm grasp to place them on your clit. Moments later you felt him threatening to enter your walls. You whimpered and pressed your sweaty forehead into the mattress. “You’re mine.”

“Oh my god!” Your back was forced to arch, your breasts were pinned against the bed, and he was finally inside of you. His grunts were muffled as he bit onto your shoulder. The hand that wasn’t holding him up grabbed you by your neck to lift your head up from the covers. You could feel his scruff scratching against your cheek as your bodies moved in sync.

You brought a hand away from the bed to press his cheek against yours. His possessive growls were aimed directly into your ear canal and seemed to be amplified that way. Your heat was building a storm inside of you and you could feel it in your belly.

“Peter...I’m gonna-ahh!” His grip on your neck tightened and you couldn’t finish your sentence.

“No patience, princess. I’ll have to show it to you next time. Give it to me, then.” He growled in your ear, his pace never faltering. You felt your claws begging to extend, so you removed them from his face and dug them into his shoulder.

“Peter Hale!” You cried, seeing white as you released around him. You felt the pressure of him releasing inside of you shortly after, but you barely noticed it as you let your upper body fully collapse onto the bed. Peters gently pulled out of you and turned you over to place you onto his chest.

“Get some rest for a bit, I’m sure the heat isn’t over yet.” He spoke softly, running his fingers affectionately through your hair repeatedly. You smiled up at him before letting your naked bodies blend into what seemed like one safe space.

[amiramorozova]

Dual Summoner and the Darkling pt. 54

Pairing: Dual Summoner Amira Silina and Darkling Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan

TagList: @lifeisingrey,  @houseoftoomanyfandoms (If you want to be added to the tag list comment below)

Glossary: Soverenyi - sovereign,

For the next couple of weeks, it was sort of easy except when I had to let Baghra watch Kira so I could attend Aleksander's meetings with him. Ivan was there but not many knew now that I was his 2nd in command, which ranked me above Ivan. Some people noticed me and I just relaxed while listening until one of the Grisha spoke up.

"Moi Soverenyi, why is your wife at the meeting?" The Grisha soldier asked, before Aleksander could say anything or even I could say anything Ivan was the one to speak up. "Moya Soverenyi, goes everywhere with our General." Ivan said but that was necessarily true. Aleksander seemed to wait before they calmed down. "Amira, may be my wife but she is also my 2nd in command here at the little palace. In the event I don't take her with me when we go check on the first army to make sure our Grisha soldiers are safe. She will remain to lead our 2nd army soldiers." Aleksander said 

I knew we were able to get close thanks to everything but his plan for the throne was still unknown to me. After so long, I got up from where I was and headed for the door as Ivan spoke up. "The meeting isn't over." Ivan said as I looked back at him with an uninterested look. "I have a daughter to feed, I don't need you reminding me what needs to be done." I said as I left before Aleksander could say anything. 

I was moody, in some ways especially since I had suspicions Aleksander was doing things behind my back. I was being paranoid but there was a history with Zoya, so I had suspicions. When I made it to Baghra's hut and walked in going down seeing the two I was calm. Baghra and Kira were the two people I was most calm around, well besides my friends. Baghra seemed to enjoy being a grandmother as she walked over with her and handed her to me.

"Was she well behaved?" I asked as I took her and was ready to take her to feed her. "She has been, I adore her and everything you are doing to put my son in his path of redemption." Baghra said as I had my doubts. "Don't doubt Amira, he's loyal to you. When he put that ring on your hand, it was his symbol of loyalty." I looked at my hand knowing she was right there was a lot that had happened. "Everything has just happened so fast. I was hidden for almost ten years from him, we got together and got married less than a year of knowing each other." I said 

Baghra knew what I was talking about, but I knew his truth which was more than I should know. I knew he was eternal like I am but that was where it ended. We were always going to be learning about each other and now we were raising a daughter. "He's talking about another baby already, he still wants the throne." I said as Baghra sighed. "I suppose he might have a good point with achieving the throne, if he ruled Ravka you'd have your freedom and no one would question you with his protection." 

Baghra's words surprised me but then I knew aiming for the throne was better than going after the amplifiers and the fold.  The fold could still be used as a weapon with just the two of us, I was powerful enough to be his equal without another amplifier. I adjusted Kira in my arm then put a hand on my collar bone where the stag bones lied when I absorbed them into my body, the piece of the stag in his hand made it where I could be more connected to him. He could try to call my power but would he risk me if he did.

"You're thinking about the stag." Baghra said as I looked at her knowing there was no denying it. I still felt like I should have done something back then. "I know it was made to be an amplifier but I still have some sadness about it." I said as I sighed. "Are they supposed to be together?" I asked Baghra, Baghra considered my question for a minute "Possibly, but doesn't mean the same person has to have them. Why?" Baghra asked 

"When Kira is old enough, I want to go back for the Sea Whip. I want her to have it, but I don't want it." I said as Baghra looked at Kira in my arms as she was clapping her hands together. I figured she was too young to even show power yet but as we stood there in the hut shadows went over us and then a flash of sunlight mixed with the shadows. 

Baghra was shocked seeing the power "Another Dual Summoner, one of Shadow and Sun." Baghra said I was just speechless knowing I wasn't going to have her tested till she was three. Then I thought about how she was from two powerful bloodlines, so it showed that both were residing in her blood but then she got the Dual part from me as I was a Dual Summoner. 

"I would keep this secret from others, but Aleksander should be told." Baghra said as I adjusted Kira which made it fade away. "Duly noted Baghra, I'll make sure to tell him after his meeting." I said as I walked away with Kira. I knew a lot was going on in my head at that moment knowing our daughter was very strong. She had Shadows like him but she had Sun like me so I wondered what that would mean. 

When we got to the war room I fed her then had her just relax while I thought over how to tell him everything. I heard the door open when he walked in and when I turned he walked over putting his hands on my shoulder and kissing me. I kissed him back even though we hadn't been apart long but it almost felt like we were always missing each other when we were apart. He looked over and saw Kira was asleep for now. 

"How was your talk with my mother?" Aleksander asked as he went over to the table the map was on and looked over it. I walked over to see he hadn't removed the first army general's picture and took it away. Aleksander looked at me as I rolled it up and tossed it aside "He's not a problem anymore, you're not excused still for killing west ravkans." I reminded him as I sighed "I had a good conversation with Baghra....and Kira showed her powers." I said 

He was messing with something on his map when he dropped it and turned his full attention to me. "She did what?" Aleksander asked as I sighed, "When she wakes up you'll see." I said as he went and set his plans into motion. Kira woke up sometime later and I went over picking her up. Aleksander sat down on his bed and I walked over with her in my arms. "Can you show daddy what you can do? Like you did with Mommy and Grandma." I said to Kira knowing she might not understand. I saw her start laughing and clapping her hands together as it happened again, she didn't know how to control it but he saw it too.

"Shadow and Sun, how unique." Aleksander asked as he smirked a bit, I think he knew that we were all going to be eternal. "I still think we should consider her a brother. Growing up an only child myself a-" I cut him off knowing he wasn't the only one who was growing up an Only child. "I was too." I reminded him as he nodded "Yes, you and I both did. She doesn't have to." Aleksander said as he carefully took Kira from me as he kissed her forehead. "Shadows like your father and Sun like your mother." Aleksander said as he seemed to enjoy the thought. 

What are you thinking Aleksander? I thought

[lokiwritess]

Restless - Sergeant Hunter

I learned the spelling of sergeant halfway through this and that is all I have to say. Ps. We all know Hunter is secretly a softie who loves his brothers

The light rap of knuckles on durasteel was the first thing to pull you out of your trance in hours, maybe even a day. Nothing had managed to break your concentration: Not hunger, not thirst, not even the raging headache in your temples. 

Exhaustion had you almost slipping away a few times, but you clung on to your last bits of energy like a drowning man would cling to a bottle of water. 

Your hair was probably a mess, eyes half-closed, with the dark circles to prove the time you'd spent staring at the datapad in your lap. What had started from interest had turned into desperation quickly, leaving nothing but frustration in its wake.

If you didn't decrypt those files you would have failed another one of your friends.

"How's it going? Made any progress?", Hunter questioned.

The long-haired sergeant leaned against the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes scanned the room in a fluid motion, settling on your figure.

"I got nothing.", you muttered in defeat. "Kix must've known that whoever was after him would try to find these files as well. I mean- how the hell am I supposed to open files protected against way smarter people?”

"He sent them to you. I doubt that he just chose a random person, that means that you know how to decrypt them. Just don’t know it yet."

"I just can't figure it out. I'm failing miserably. I need more time. What if I can't figure it out until it's too late?"

Hunter huffed, his soft footsteps echoing on the floor as he moved closer. He stopped right next to you, crouching down to be on the same level as you. But instead of trying to look at him, your gaze was fixed on the datapad once again, and on the transmission, you’d received while eating with the group.

This time, what broke your concentration was that Hunter just snatched the pad from your hands and turned it off.

“What are you doing?”, you questioned in shock, trying to reach for it.

But the Sergeant held it out of reach from you, laying it down on top of a monitor.

“You’ve been doing this for hours. Right now, you don’t need more time, you need food and rest.”

The ship was quiet, the only thing that you could hear the steady humming of the engines that kept the ship in its position. Too quiet, for the usually chaotic ship. There was no bickering, no arguments, no bets being made.

“Everyone already went to sleep, didn’t they?”

“They did, about eight hours ago. We let you be then but this isn’t healthy anymore.”

You couldn't help but protest as he grabbed your waist and made you stand on your feet. Wobbly feet, as you noticed. Did you sit on the floor in the command center for almost a day? How had you not noticed the way your muscles ached?

"Alright, let's go before you fall asleep on your feet."

"I really have to keep working on this. I’ll promise I’ll eat, but-”

"Tech will look into it while you do your part in being a functional member of the team. And that for you means eating and sleeping right now.", he cut you off.

"Did you just call any of us functional?"

He made a low sound that you had learned to identify as his way to express amusement. But he didn't stop moving, his hand on the small of your back gently maneuvering your tired body in the right direction.

"Stop protesting. Food first or sleep?"

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness, while a yawn decided for you. "Sleep."

He hummed in agreement, reacting by laying his other hand on the crook of your arm and saving you from stumbling straight into a storage crate.

Touch was still something rare coming from Hunter, as you had come to realize in your time with the Bad Batch. Even though the limits of the team’s mutations and abilities were often unknown to you, it felt good to know that Hunter had gotten used to your presence so much that he didn't get overwhelmed as easily anymore. 

His oversensitivity had reacted a lot to you in the beginning, rooted in your often subconscious use of the force, but now - with you in a resting state, with no one else around - he was fine. And your exhausted body relished in the warmth of the clone in his blacks.

You barely noticed Crosshair walking past you, the force signature of the sniper faintly floating by in a moment's notice. You had successfully relied on Hunter to not make you run into walls, half asleep already. Your mind had retreated into itself. It was just you, the quiet, and Hunter's presence. Exactly how you liked it.

Your senses only re-activated as you took a less familiar path.

"Why are we going to your room?" 

Hunter's room was at the end of the corridor, as far away from the electricity and signals in the cockpit and command center as possible. Your’s was down the hall to the right. As one of the last people to join the crew of the Havoc Marauder you shared the last room - which also happened to be the smallest - with Echo. 

The first couple of weeks you'd slept on the floor, just waiting for his nightmares to end what little sleep you’d had. And then the Bad Batch had started accepting you more and one-day Tech got so tired of hearing your shoulder crack every morning that they installed a make-shift second cot.

It took you a second to realize.

"Wait- Is Echo okay?" The words were slurred by your drowsiness. Before you, the door to Hunter's room swished open and he nudged you to move in. But a sense of panic had already settled in your bones.

Echo had been your friend long before he supposedly died. Long before things spiraled out of control, before you’d left the order and your friends. Before you lost so many people it would take you a while to count.

"He had a bad night. Wrecker is keeping him company to get him back to sleep."

"I should-" But as you turned around you simply walked straight into Hunter's chest.

"Absolutely not. You need to rest. And Echo is just as worried about your friend as you are. The last thing that's going to help him right now is your presence.", he bluntly stated.

Yep, that was Hunter. A bit rough around the edges, but always the best interest of the team in mind.

"You can get together and talk once you're both in a better state." With that, he turned you around by your shoulders and guided you the rest of the way to his bed. 

You'd never been in his room. Always just stood inside the doorway in case you needed something or one of the others asked for him. It felt weirdly intimate. 

A common theme within the members of the Bad Batch. It’d always just been the four of them, so they had the luxury of having solitary rooms, no matter how small they were. They served their function as a time-out zone, a safe space for different reasons, that you had learned in your time with them. 

Their rooms were tailored to their specific needs. In Tech’s case that meant he stored all of his devices there, safe from his brother’s who were absolutely not allowed to touch any of them. 

For Wrecker, it was the size. With a special cot and the biggest room available, he could drop the caution that he might break something his brother’s treasured.

 You’d yet to look at Crosshair’s room, that’s how secretive he was about it.

Hunter was a stark contrast to Tech in regards to his room. He’d downsized everything in there to things he really needed, nothing that served no purpose. Where Tech had a clutter of all kinds of things, Hunter kept his knives organized and he never brought things in there that could trigger his enhanced senses.

Bringing you in there seemed like a clear violation of that rule.

You were fascinated by their rooms because they were so personal.

In your time with the Jedi, you’d always been forbidden from even feeling attached to a specific room. And when you joined the 501st things had been vastly different as well.

Echo’s and your room was a stark contrast to the rest of the team members because of that specific reason. You were used to the loud barracks, not the isolation of the Havoc Marauder.

On good days your shared room felt like the old days in the 501st barracks on some risky mission to a weird place. Like you were taking a break from the business of war, filled with Fives’ jokes and Jesse’s laughter. Like home.

On the bad days, it felt like explosions at the Citadel. Or like the echo of blasters firing on Umbara. It felt like hopelessness and sadness caused by the loss of many friends. Like a deep abyss of loneliness that would drown anyone that dare enter in the waves of past trauma.

You barely registered hitting the mattress. You adjusted on autopilot, gravitating closer to the wall behind your back as your head found the pillow.

"You're spacing out on me again.", Hunter remarked.

"Bad habit." 

He sat on the side of the bed, pulling the covers over you. Once you were warm and cozy, he turned to stand up but he hesitated. Hunter could feel your guilt. That was one of the feelings you carried around with you day to day, since the day he’d met you. 

It ate away at you even when you were in a good mood, and that bothered him. Especially since that transmission came in and amplified your guilt thousandfold.

"You do know that it’s not your fault that your friend was taken, right?”

You pressed your lips together tightly, avoiding eye contact, instead choosing to focus your attention on your hand. He was wrong. 

“I left them.” The words felt like lead on your tongue, hurting you as you tried to get them out.

“You didn’t.”, Hunter disagreed. “You left the Jedi, but not them. You wouldn’t have been there at the smallest sign that Echo was alive if you had.”

You looked up at the clone with mixed feelings. Maybe there was some truth to that. Even after you finally broke and left the order, you’d been there when Tup and Fives died. And you’d been there when Rex had the suspicion that Echo was still alive, dropping everything in a moments notice.

Hell, the only reason you’d had for going with the Bad Batch had been that Rex asked you to look out for Echo and help him adjust.

“Maybe you’re right.”, you shrugged numbly. “I guess I just… feel like I keep failing to keep the people I care about alive. I can't save Kix. And I couldn't save Fives nor could I help any of the others… but if I figure out what Kix was onto, I might be able to help Echo and Rex and Jesse and maybe even you."

To your surprise, Hunter grabbed your hand and squeezed it lightly.

"I know that you want to protect them. But you can't do it at the cost of working yourself to death. You're part of the Bad Batch now. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

You nodded slowly.

“Good. Now get some rest.”

And with that, the handsome Sergeant stood up from his bed and left you to be consumed by your exhaustion, in a room that felt so distinctively like him that you finally managed to relax.

[hardygalwrites]

FanFiction.Net Link

(image source)

Cartoon: Transformers Prime

Characters: Smokescreen and Megatron, with flashback appearances from Prowl, Alpha Trion, and Team Prime

Synopsis: There’s nothing in the dark. Absolutely nothing. It’s freaky, and it sucks, but it’s preferable to letting Megatron get his servos on that information contained within the memories that keep on replacing the darkness. Just keep running. It sucks, but staying in the dark means keeping Megatron in the dark.

Right?

Note: Originally published on FFN early in 2018. Set during Season 2, Episode 23: Inside Job

—

The library was one of his favourite places in the Hall. When he wasn't in the outside courtyard, looking for any sign of what was going on beyond the Hall, he was inside the library, reading or studying some piece of lore or history. Or, occasionally, he would just be in the library to be in the library. It was quiet, but not in a bad way, and he could usually count on being alone in there. So, optics closed and servos clenched, Smokescreen just focused on steadying his venting.

There was a thought that kept on pulling at the back of his processor, asking why he was there, stating that something wasn't quite right, but he just had to ignore it. Chances were, he'd simply gotten into another argument with one of the perimeter guards and had finally lost his cool. The thought was strangely comforting, and Smokescreen let himself relax.

"The Hall of Records."

His vents hitched, and his optics snapped open.

"I do not think I have been here since Orion Pax still held his position as an archivist."

The voice echoed through the library, low, calm, yet shaking the Hall to its very foundations and rattling Smokescreen down to his protoform. His vents were beginning to pick up again, and Smokescreen turned every which way, searching every corner, every aisle, for the source of the thunderous voice.

"You're not supposed to be here!"

"I was not aware you knew anything about the Hall," the voice continued calmly, easily drowning out the echoes of Smokescreen's comparably more pathetic shout. "But no matter. There is only one thing you know that matters to me."

Smokescreen's doorwings stiffened. He spun around and looked up, optics widening. Standing there, much, much larger than Smokescreen remembered, was Megatron.

"The identical relics. What are their function?"

"Frag off!" Smokescreen turned and ran, out through the library doors and into a landscape of inky blackness.

There was nothing out there. No light, no sound, nothing. He could see his servos as he ran. He could hear his swift pedesteps and sharp vents, but it all seemed muted, as though the landscape sought to swallow anything that brought some form of tangibility to it.

A short, scathing scoff filled Smokescreen's audial receptors. "Futile."

Megatron's voice wasn't muted. If anything, the massless, shapeless world of nothing only seemed to amplify Megatron's voice, accepting it as the only other tangible thing to be contained within and giving unwanted company to a solitary bot, running from nothing, through nothing, to nothing.

"Your thoughts are mine to uncover. Nothing you want hidden can be hidden from me."

That was a challenge. Smokescreen slowed down, turning back to shout defiantly into the darkness. "Try me, bucket-helm!"

"Shhhh!"

Smokescreen glanced at his fellow guard, doorwings dipping.

"Sorry," he muttered, then looked back into the locked hall, optics continuing to examine every relic.

As he studied a certain relic that looked like an oversized key, he asked, "Hey, d'you think I could maybe, y'know...?"

The other guard scoffed. "Kid, your job's to keep an optic on Alpha Trion. Unless he decides to enter the relic hall, you're not going anywhere near this place. Which reminds me - why the slag aren't you at your post?"

"You were bodyguard to the master archivist."

Smokescreen turned sharply to see the massive form of Megatron standing right behind him. He stumbled back in alarm, and within the blink of an optic, he was back in the world of nothingness.

"Clearly you failed your duty," Megatron said, almost conversationally.

Smokescreen didn't have time to be offended or stung by the comment. He turned and continued running. Just focus on running, he thought to himself. Just running. Running through the blackness. Running to escape anymore memories–

Running up to another podium, where that large, key-like thing floated in its display field.

"And what's this one?" he asked eagerly.

"A secret," Alpha Trion replied with a small smile.

Smokescreen pulled back from the podium, not sure whether or not to be laughing, protesting, or disappointed. "Seriously?"

"There are many secrets contained within the Hall," Alpha Trion said calmly, walking along past his bodyguard. "This relic being one of them. Perhaps, someday, I will reveal these secrets to you."

"All right." He trotted after Alpha Trion and slowed to the old bot's pace. "...Maybe we could have, like, a secret revealing schedule of some kind?"

"These secrets must have been revealed to you."

Smokescreen stumbled and fell, back in the world of blackness. "What's happening?" he gasped, clutching his helm.

Heavy pedesteps approached from behind. "I told you, everything you know is mine to uncover, whether you try to run from it or not."

Smokescreen scrambled to his pedes and turned, back-stepping as he–

Spread his servo dramatically towards the next relic. "And this one's..." He paused, glancing at the key-shaped relic. "Actually, I still have no clue what this one is. Yet. Alpha Trion's still all hush-hush about it."

"So, he doesn't trust you with everything."

Smokescreen's doorwings lowered a bit. "No- but I trust him," he added quickly. "I'm sure he has a reason for hidin' some stuff. He'll tell me some time. I mean, Alpha Trion still does trust me."

"I should hope so," his companion said with a small scoff. "You're doing something wrong if he doesn't."

Tour forgotten, Smokescreen finally asked what had been on his processor for awhile. "Why're you here, Prowl?"

"What do you mean–"

"Stop!" Smokescreen practically screamed into the darkness as the memory gave way to it, servos once again clasping the sides of his helm. "Get out of my head!"

A sigh filled Smokescreen's audial receptors. "Your attempts to fight, while still futile, are beginning to annoy me."

Smokescreen shook his helm and resumed his run through the darkness.

"Perhaps I should occupy you with something else."

That didn't sound good, but Smokescreen didn't slow his pace. He kept running–

Only for that rough servo to shove him back again. "Slaggit, kid, I said stay back!"

Smokescreen could still hear that one mech he could never remember the name of, screaming as though his legs had been blown off. Slag, maybe they had! Smokescreen didn't know, and it was freaking him out!

Ever adept at keeping his pedes, the adolescent sparkling kept trotting after the squad of frantic bots. "But isn't there anything I can do t' help–?"

"No, you can't do anything, slaggit!" the last bot in the procession snapped, glaring down at Smokescreen. "Now stay back!"

Another shove, and this time Smokescreen fell back onto his skidplate. Doorwings drooping, the adolescent sparkling watched as the bots disappeared down the hall. His spark was writhing in turbulent emotions, Smokescreen had to remind himself that "soldiers don't cry."

"Smokescreen." That was Prowl.

Fighting back the lubricant building up in his optics, Smokescreen got to his pedes and turned to look–

Out the window, optics wide as he watched one of the buildings at the farthest edge of Iacon collapse in a mass of smoke.

Another movement, much closer this time, caught his optic, and Smokescreen looked down to see one of the officers racing across the courtyard to where their commander was issuing orders to a few of the perimeter guards. The commander stopped as soon as the officer ran up to him. As he listened to the officer's report, the commander's faceplates became weary. He turned away, pinching the area between his optics. The remaining perimeter guards muttered to each other.

Optics still wide, Smokescreen looked back towards the far edge of the city. That building was gone, leaving only a pillar of smoke to distract from the otherwise serene cityscape that was Iacon.

All the turbulent emotions that had been building up in Smokescreen since he had received his assignment that that morning finally came out, and he slammed his servos against either side of the window frame with a yell–

But his voice was instantly lost in the stifling hum of the ship's engines.

This only angered Smokescreen more.

Again he pulled forcefully at his bonds, and again he was punished with a sharp pain in his shoulder joints and no give to the bonds whatsoever. Again he shouted his frustration into the halls, and again his voice was lost in the constant hum of the ship's engines. And then, just like that, Smokescreen deflated. He hung limply in his bonds, energy spent, frustration and anger vented, with only his unvented emotions for company.

What had he done wrong? He had been more than ready to fight the 'Cons when they'd attacked the Hall, and yet he was now their prisoner. And what about Alpha Trion? Primus, the mere thought of the old bot - whom Smokescreen had been ordered to protect - made Smokescreen's doorwings feel like they were curling in on themselves.

He had failed.

He had promised he would fight for the cause, he had been given orders, and he had failed.

Smokescreen's spark sank, and–

He looked at his servos helplessly. "I... I told Optimus I'd return with that key."

He could hear groundbridge popping up nearby, but Smokescreen was a little too lost in his own failure to pay any attention to it. In the midst of his dejection, Smokescreen could feel Bulkhead's heavy arm around his shoulders.

"Look, kid," the big bot said comfortingly. "Alpha Trion said we need all four keys–"

The world seemed to slow down. Alarm bells went off in Smokescreen's processor. Everything was a brief blur of colour and panic, and Smokescreen clasped both servos to his helm.

"No!"

In an instant, his cry was lost in the world of blackness. Except, the world seemed to have gained a little more life - Smokescreen was vaguely aware of many voices echoing around him, of his memories showing up as blurred images out of the corners of his optics, of the enormous form of Megatron perusing them like datapad entries. But he couldn't focus on any of that. Fighting the ache in his processor, Smokescreen stumbled forward.

Just keep running, he thought. If he just kept running...

He could see a door ahead. It looked like the door to the library.

Just keep running.

He quickened his pace, and within seconds, Smokescreen burst through the door, leaving the darkness, his memories, and the enormous warlord picking at them, behind.

He was standing in Prowl's old office. It wasn't the library, but it was enough for Smokescreen. Leaning both servos on the desk in front of him, Smokescreen closed his optics and focused on his venting.

"What was the message?"

Smokescreen opened his optics, doorwings perking up. Bulkhead? He turned, optics full of hope.

"It is paramount that we recover the final four Iacon relics."

And just like that, Smokescreen's doorwings dropped, along with his spark. That was Optimus's voice, coming from the other side of Prowl's office door, but...

"The Omega Keys."

Smokescreen's doorwings fell flat onto his backstruts. "Oh, no."

"Keys?" Arcee echoed questioningly.

"To what?" Ratchet asked.

"No!" Smokescreen burst through the office doors and found himself standing in the brightly lit Autobot base, watching as he and the rest of Team Prime looked up at their leader expectantly.

"To the regeneration of our home planet," Optimus declared.

That was it.

"No..."

Smokescreen felt as though the world had fallen out from underneath him.

"No..."

He stepped back from the scene, as though that would rewind and reset what had just happened.

"Oh, Primus..."

Heavy pedesteps shook the ground behind him. Smokescreen's servos clenched, and he turned on the giant form approaching from the shadows of the base.

"Now what?" Smokescreen snapped, quickly realizing he needed to control his vocalizer as it pitched slightly. "You're done, right? So get out of my head, and leave me alone!"

Still standing in the shadows, Megatron only released a thoughtful hum.

"Ugh, slag this!" Smokescreen punched a nearby wall.

All energy left his chassis, and he leaned quickly leaned against the wall he had just punched, processor a whirl of messy thoughts and spark a hotbed of writhing emotions.

He had failed.

He had tried. By Primus, he had tried. He had run, he had hid, he had tried to stay in the dark.

But he had failed.

What would the team say? What would Optimus say?

The thought sent a stab through Smokescreen's spark. Team Prime–

Gathered around their leader as he responded to Smokescreen's doubts.

"While I am unfamiliar with the lore of these Omega Keys," Optimus admitted. "Alpha Trion knew many secrets, and the Ancients possessed technology that has long been lost to what we consider 'modern science'–

"Whatever their function, this much is certain: we can not restore Cybertron without all four Omega Keys in our possession–

"The future of our home world depends on it."

[dingletragedy]

put a price on emotion [ao3 link]

As soon as Callum sinks into the kitchen, door closed firmly behind him, his stomach sinks and twists itself into an ugly mess, and he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, taking in deep, shuddery breaths.

He’s still at first, eyes clenched shut just as hard as his mouth is, his fingernails digging into his palms. Then, all it takes is one short release of breath, one blink, one whispered you can do this to himself, and he gets on with the task at hand. Tea.

Before long, there’s a clatter of noise to his right, as the person leans themselves against the door frame, and Callum manages to steady himself enough to bring his startled eyes upward, but not before spilling half of the milk over the counter top. Ben.

“Sorry,” Callum blurts, swallows thickly. The panic in his chest, ever-present, but it’s amplified for a new reason now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“No need to cry over spilt milk, Cal,” Ben laughs, a short, breathy thing. And Callum feels his own mouth pull up into a half-smile, despite himself.

“I know, but I just—,” Callum breathes, shaking his head absently, panic still sparking his veins because he’s trying and he doesn’t know if he should be, if all of this will only push Ben even further away from him in the end. But at least he’ll be free. Safe. “I’m sorry. I’ll pop to the minute mart and buy a new carton. Just let me—”

“Hey, calm down,” Ben interrupts, hurried and voice raspy. He steps towards to put a heavy hand to the back of Callum’s shoulders to steady him, to get him to uncurl. “You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

They rest in heavy silence. Callum refuses to turn around.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know?” Ben says, a quiet, concerned whisper.

“I know,” Callum answers, robotic, automatic. What choice does he have? When there’s no response, Callum turns and finally glances up. Ben is staring at him, unconvinced, thin brows drawn together, and there’s this sadness in his eyes that makes Callum’s throat swell, because he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want that look, not from Ben. Not ever. “I want to.”

“But you look awful,” he breathes, staring right at Callum, the hand on Callum’s shoulder holds steady now they’re dancing each other, he’s not convinced he’d stay upright if Ben were to let go. “I know you haven’t been sleeping, barely eating. This ain’t you, Cal.”

Callum doesn’t want to crumple, but he feels his face caving, and he has to look away again. He feels caught out and hopeless, hurting because his brain is screaming at him to tell Ben everything, to press his face somewhere close and comforting and just break, to beg for this forgiveness he isn’t sure he deserves. Tears blur his eyes and his stomach twists and it all hurts so much. Ben’s hand leaves his shoulder and Callum almost reaches for his wrists like a reflex, to put them back, to cup his neck with them, hold him up, hold him steady.

Instead he says, “just drop it, Ben,” quick as a whip, wanting the words off his tongue in an instant. Ben balks at the harsh, unfamiliar tone of it all, the sheen wetness in his eyes, the shuddering breath he takes in as jumps back and he dumps the milk back in the fridge roughly, arms braced on the counter.

“How can I?” Ben hisses, but his words aren’t cold. They’re anything but. “Look at you, Callum.”

“I’m fine,” Callum says, but that doesn’t really work anymore, he knows. The little words, it’s okay and it’s fine and it’s nothing. They won’t work for much longer. He’s on borrowed time. “Everything is fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Ben says, because he doesn’t want Callum to shut him out now, he doesn’t want Callum to feel like he has to face this all on his own. And that’s every reason Callum has no choice but to follow every one of Di Thompson’s malicious commands. “I don’t want anything to go wrong, for you, for us. I’m tired of things going wrong.”

Callum shakes his head. “They won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

The sharpness is a sudden thing, Ben’s eyes downcast, and Callum doesn’t know what to say. Ben is right. He can’t know.

“If your Dad’s okay with it,” Callum tries, treading water carefully. “Why aren’t you?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend,” Ben half-shouts, and then, thick and choked, he says, “I’m your boyfriend, and I love you. That's why I can't just sit back and watch you destroy everything you've worked so hard for. I can't watch you lose your passion. Lose yourself."

Slowly, so slowly, Callum presses his hands under Ben’s chin and lifts it delicately. “I know. I know and I love you too.”

read more!

[ridiasfangirlings]

(1/5) AU where the auras of the kings' subordinates can synchronize according to affinity, for example, people of the same aura can amplify each other's powers as a pair, and people from different auras fighting together can synchronize their auras perfectly dependent on their relationship. In general, people in perfect sync with different auras are not that rare (IzuSeri would be an example), but it is still hard to find. (The auras are in perfect balance, in some cases)

Ooh yes, Fushimi would be so irritated at how this is just proof that he and Misaki aren't meant to be at all. Like imagine AU where a perfect sync between partners can lead to a stronger aura even when the two people aren't in the same clan (besides Kusanagi and Awashima matching maybe too in just the right circumstance Mikoto and Munakata can sync as well but they never admit it and everyone acts as if they can't see it). The same person can even sometimes sync with multiple partners depending on compatibility, like Kusanagi can sync with Totsuka, Mikoto and Awashima in different ways due to the balance he has with all three. Several of the alphabet squad members are able to do the same, like Chitose and Dewa match and later when Eric joins Homra he and Fujishima are able to sync perfectly, over in Scepter 4 Akiyama and Benzai are able to do the same as well.

Fushimi and Yata learn about this when they first join Homra, their tattoos being in the same place probably makes everyone think that these two will be able to sync their powers and become even stronger. Yata's thrilled at the idea, like of course me and Saruhiko will match, we're partners, but while Fushimi doesn't say anything against this he also privately probably worries that this isn't true and he and Yata won't be that perfect sync that Yata thinks they are. When they use their auras together it looks to an outsider that they're a match, their powers become stronger and seem to be amplified by being together. However say Fushimi once witnessed Mikoto and Kusanagi using their powers in sync and so he's able to see more clearly what Yata can't, that what Yata thinks is a 'perfect sync' is actually wild and imperfect. Maybe for Yata it's easy to control his powers when he's paired with Fushimi and so it dosn't occur to him that there's any problem but on Fushimi's end he struggles to keep that power in check, like every time he uses his powers with Yata he's almost overwhelmed and it makes him a little terrified, feeling like if one day he fails and loses control Misaki will be injured. To Fushimi this is just proof that the two of them aren't meant to be together and that Yata won't ever understand him, like if they were still the same like in middle school the match should be easy and that it isn't only shows that Fushimi was fooling himself all this time.

Then post-betrayal imagine every time they clash their powers seem to almost 'repel' each other, like both auras grow in strength only when they fight each other and it feels like two magnets pushing each other way. If they send a wave of power at each other at the same time it creates like a huge explosion and it causes a ton of collateral damage around the city to the point that Awashima and Kusanagi are both regularly trying to keep Yata and Fushimi apart, knowing that any time they clash it's likely to cause a problem. Fushimi of course doesn't care about this and only takes it as proof that he was right all along, not only was he never meant to be by Misaki's side but this must be how things should have been, himself as Misaki's number one enemy. Yata on the other hand is more pained by this, like he keeps wanting to sync with Fushimi again the way they used to but now he can actively feel Fushimi pushing him back and it makes it harder for Yata to control his own powers.

Then post-ROK they've made up and this settles their powers a little, since they aren't fighting anymore there's no more of that push and pull (oh though imagine their fight against Sukuna in this AU, Yata's powers becoming stronger when he fights to protect Fushimi while Fushimi has exhausted his own auras enough that he doesn't even notice being near Yata makes him feel more invigorated). If anything both their powers are weakening a little without the Dresden Slate but even so there are still Strains running around so everyone needs to be a little more careful. Fushimi's only just recovering from his injuries but he insists on going out and doing missions rather than resting, not wanting to just lie about uselessly when there are things that need to be done. Munakata allows him to go out on some minor mission but also has Awashima contact Kusanagi and they send Yata out to assist him. Yata's happy to be working with Fushimi as a partner again while Fushimi just clicks his tongue and mutters that Yata had better not slow him down.

Things end up going awry and the Strain turns out to be stronger than reported, with Yata and Fushimi backed into a corner and Fushimi's injury from the jungle mission reopening and bleeding heavily. The Strain decides this would be a great time to take down both Homra's vanguard and Scepter 4's third in command, now while they're vulnerable and can't fight back. Yata stands in front of Fushimi, he's no good at creating shields himself but there's no way he's going to let Fushimi get hurt further. Fushimi stands shakily and tells Yata not to stand in front of him, Yata yells at him to stay down before he gets killed. As Yata's yelling this red shield starts to glow in front of him, weak and unstable but there. Fushimi clicks his tongue and gives this rueful smile as he stumbles forward, saying he won't let Misaki make him look bad.

As Fushimi's trying to summon his own shield he loses his footing and ends up holding onto Yata's hand, as their hands touch the shield in front of them suddenly starts to shimmer – the color now not quite red, not quite blue, but something in between both. The Strain sends a wave of power at them and they both brace for impact but the shield holds firm and Fushimi can feel like this power washing over him, which reminds him of the days when he and Yata fought as partners and his own power always threatened to go out of control. This time though that wild power is entwining with Misaki's, still strong, still the kind of thing which could wash him away, but rather than resisting it Fushimi rides the wave instead and realizes that all along it wasn't his power at all, it was Misaki's power trying to reach his heart and the reason they couldn't sync was because Fushimi kept pushing it away, assuming that because it was imperfect it was worthless. But now he can feel it, how those imperfections are exactly what makes their bond so strong, and that maybe he would have been able to see all along that they really were unbreakable, if he'd just let himself believe.