#but i think she’s still small enough that the manual effort of using the entire keyboard would still be like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevenbasic · 4 years ago

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So far AJ’s day, his first at this new job, had been predictably miserable. He figured that was sort of normal, kinda expected. He’d been his own boss, owner of his own little construction firm for years, so going back to being a manual labor grunt for someone else again was sure to feel like ten steps in the wrong direction. But working on a demo team for a bunch of girls? The women, the company that had put him out of business? That was turning out to be particularly soul-sucking and demeaning work. But, hey, a buck’s a buck and he needed as many of those as he could muster these days. His saving grace was, with a little effort keeping his head down, that he could remain faceless and anonymous and just do his work. The morning had been spent taking down some walls in the area of the building that was to be the new wing. He’d sat by himself for his meager lunch outside - his buddies, guys that used to work for him, were on another team entirely, at another site - and he had now this afternoon been asked to step into the doctor's office area to look at some venting. Privately, he leapt at the chance: maybe he’d be able to see Angie. Or, for that matter, catch a glimpse of - or even meet - that statuesque, brunette boss of hers, her friend Melissa...

He was in luck.

“Oh! H-hey, hun,” AJ said, acting surprised to bump into his girlfriend, Angie, as he turned the corner in the back hallway. He’d already checked out what he’d needed to see, looked at the thermostats, and had been sort of aimlessly drifting around, avoiding others, waiting for just this moment. He managed what he hoped was a casual smile. “Funny meeting you here haha,” he joked, wiping plaster dust from his forehead, “H-how’s the first day?”

At first, Angie looked surprised to see him, too - eyes widening. But she didn’t even give him a word of greeting before her eyes flashed, her smile grew into a grin, and she bit her lower lip. Looking behind herself, down the hall, checking if they’d be seen, she then suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his green, grime-covered t-shirt and pulled him aside. “Here, let’s go in here-“ she said, opening the door to a supply closet and yanking him into it. She shut the door behind them and flipped on a switch.

“Hey wow..!” AJ exclaimed, eyes immediately going wide in pleasant surprise, “Nice to see you too!”

The switch she had hit had turned on an overhead fluorescent, which was just flickering to life. “Shush,” she said, locking the door, “The last thing I need is someone to see us together.” She’d just gotten out of lunch, where all the office girls had assembled, crowded into the too-small breakroom for a welcome meeting. She’d had a few great little chats and was just really beginning to grasp what was going on here, what she was now part of. It was thrilling and her blood was still on fire from the excitement, the potential. Yes yes yes...female empowerment, sisters united, blah blah blah. But there was opportunity here for her.

She’d just been headed to her new temporary, makeshift desk in accounting when she ran into her, well, boyfriend. Though AJ was here doing some work for the construction company hired to renovate the building, she really didn’t want to be seen with him. Things were too big here, there was too much at stake for her to risk getting muddled down by, well, him. “I can’t be the girl dating the hired help,” she said, not smiling, but her heart still thumping.

“Hey, that hurt..!” AJ remarked, taken a bit aback by her bluntness but trying to laugh. Angie looked so good in her short, floral dress, boobs big and on display. “How’s the first day?” he repeated.

Angie faced AJ, mind still swimming with the excitement from the meeting and an electric, estrogen-fueled energy. “Eh, sort of chaotic, with all these new girls, there’s not enough space for us all until the new wing is ready,” she answered, looking him up and down. She’d seen him in his construction gear countless times before, but here - on the job, dirty, as a low-level grunt - he just looked so plebeian. And too tall. “I got to meet the doctor, this morning,” she said, feeling her eyes sparkle and the enthusiasm in her voice, “he’s sooo vulni…”

He’d heard that term before, and he knew how girls were all starting to like that: small, weak, vulnerable men. It had been why she’d had him stop going to the gym, eat less, get skinnier. He thought she liked it, though it never seemed as if it was quite enough for her; he was still tall and lanky, and he felt she’d actually like it if he was somehow smaller than her, shorter than her, weighed less than her. That was the fad, these days, and Angie was into it. But he’d never heard that weird tone in her voice when talking about another guy, not in all the months they’d been together. Here in the supply closet he felt the first pangs of jealousy, starting in his stomach, and it was envy for Angie’s new boss. Not because he was successful, a doctor, and was her superior here (though Ang probably loved that too), but because he was so “vulni” . As he watched her face, seeing how she talked about this guy, the sensation grew heavier, and worked its way up to his throat.

“He was hiding, totally hiding, in his office. But I went in and met him,” she said, “he looked like a kid sitting at a big-boy desk. He was afraid to stand up in front of me, but I bet I’d be taller than him in my heels…”

There it is, AJ thought.

“Your friend Melissa probably has him by more than a foot, then,” AJ blurted, smiling but speaking before thinking and immediately regretting it as Angie’s eyes narrowed, analyzing him. His grin disappeared as her expression changed.

“Yeaaaaah...have you noticed?” she continued, still watching his face, “a lot of the girls here are tall. They’re all hot…”

Smart enough at least for this moment, AJ held his tongue. Saying too much would just dig him deeper into the hole that he was apparently already in.

Angie still looked at her boyfriend of these many months, her smile crooked, and considered him. He’d always felt like she could read his mind, and seemed to be doing it now. She knew what he wanted. “Take off your shirt,” she instructed, hands on her wide hips.

Without as much as a thought, AJ was peeling himself out of his dusty work tee, revealing his trim, lean torso, his ink. Angie’s eyes immediately drifted from his still-defined abs, up his chest and went to the new tattoo on his throat, her name: “Angie Wade”. She reached out and gently caressed it.

“Yeah, he’s surrounded by women here, pretty women,” she continued, once again talking about this dude that AJ was starting to like less and less, “Lots of them are taller than him, walking around in their pumps, their high wedge sandals.” Her hand drifted up to cup the right side of his face, tenderly, watching how her words affected him. “They’re all ditzes, but they adore him,” she said, her expression still hard for him to read, “Imagine that? Imagine being surrounded by huge, brainless bimbos that all love and adore you and just want to get into your pants? I’ll bet he loves it. God that’s so hot.”

AJ, still knowing he shouldn’t say a word, just watched her as she looked at him. Despite his rising jealousy - what kind of girlfriend talks about another guy like this? - he was starting to feel himself hardening between his legs. He had no idea what she was thinking, what she was doing (or why she’d had him take off his shirt) but there were gears turning in her head, for sure.

“And,” she pressed on, “his office is smaller - a lot smaller - than hers. The way she was talking today, you’d have trouble knowing exactly who was in charge, here...” Angie’s left hand had settled behind AJ’s shaved head, holding it, and her right was now resting lightly on his chest. The feel of her soft palm on his shaved skin was exciting him. “...But I’m going to find out. There’s something going on under the surface here, something big. Here. Sit-“

At that, Angie pushed his chest, forcing him to half-sit back on the low shelving unit behind him. He knocked over a couple reams of paper towels, but was left with his eyes at just about boob-level.

She stepped in close.

“Lunch, with all the girls,” Angie continued, smiling again as his eyes settled right into her cleavage, “There was so much estrogen in the air, what with all the laughing and rah-rah cheering for this new place. Most of the girls here are morons, but damn if they aren’t hooked up to the right train, as things are going to be changing.”

She was talking almost to herself, he thought, while he knew he was being so passively quiet. He struggled to think of something to say. “Wow, Ang,” AJ finally spoke, “your tits look really big today.”

Angie chuckled, took a casually deep breath for him.”He’s a boob-guy, just like you,” she mused, reveling in the gift of her naturally big, full bosom, with its perfect, milky skin, “so, yeah, I wanted show them off…think he’ll like me?”

The jealousy continued to sit with him, inside his throat, tightening.

“Well, uh, y-yeah, of course,” he managed, figuring he should be supportive rather than risking her ire by sounding indignant. “Wh-what are they going to have you doing?”

“I’m going to be working with Kathy, this lady reassigned from some pharmaceutical company, to help run the practice’s accounting,” Angie continued, “Technically she’s my immediate boss, for the time being. But it’s okay, for now. She actually sounds like she has half a brain.” Her hand went up onto the side of his head, stroked his scalp leisurely, kept his gaze focused where she wanted it. “If I play my cards right, I’ll get hooked up doing financials for this study, with all the money coming in from the grants,” she said, her tone aggressively self-assured, “I’m going to be on it, totally in the right place, when things go down. Meet the right people, rise up the ranks, make more and more money…”

This was...yikes, wow...really turning him on. Secretly he loved hearing Angie embellish her own ego like this. Her boastful narcissism - she was constantly convinced that she was the smartest person in the room - was just always so hot to him. And he wasn’t nearly sure what she was talking about, but he loved how excited she sounded and how, in the face of his recent career troubles, how powerful she wanted to become. When had he gotten this way? When had he gotten to be such a junkie for the, well, submissive thrill he felt hearing a woman talk about being smart, successful...superior?

“Yeah, well, t-they’ve given me some responsibility too…” he found himself saying, maybe out of a reflexive knee-jerk reaction, some male pride bubbling weakly to the surface, “They’re having us tear out the old HVAC systems, and have me inspecting the venting, some of the thermostats...” Angie was letting him talk, possessively stroking his head, so he just continued. “Supposedly they’re putting in a new central one that’ll handle the whole building,” he explained, “be able to put some sort of aromatherapy into it. Weird, huh?”

“Aromatherapy, huh?” Angie asked, her interest piqued - and betrayed by a new purr, “In the air-conditioning?” She continued to pet his head, and drew in a little closer to him as she thought to herself. “Can you find out...any more about that for me?“

“Oh, uh, yeah...sure…” he agreed, though not really sure what he could do. Lots of this project seemed so under-wraps, at least from the guys. He hadn’t laid eyes on much in the way of blueprints or tech sheets or whatever.

“Good boy…” she praised, speaking plainly, “pull down your pants.”

Suddenly, AJ’s heart leapt. Was he about to get some?? Here in a storage closet?? Ha he’d take anything he could get these days, he thought to himself as he clumsily unzipped his thick, loose-fit utility pants, started to pull them down.

“B-boxers too?” he asked.

“Sure,” Angie allowed, and in a moment they were down at his knees, too. His erection already stood proud; of that he was glad. He wanted her to know how much she turned him on. But, then he thought - how had they gotten here? Didn’t she used to be the swooning drama nerd in high school, who’d barely been on his radar? The one who used to have the crush on him??

“A-Angie…?” he began.

“Shush, quiet,” she said, “grab your cock.”

“Wh-what?” he stammered, knowing exactly what she wanted him to do, “n-no I’m not going to, like, j-jerk off here in a cl-“

“Yes you will,” she stated, her confidence only making him harder, as she physically took his hand and planted it on his erection, balling it into a fist around his turgid shaft, “because you're submissive, just like him, and you’ll do exactly what I say...just like he will, some day.”

”I-I’m n-not,,,’submissive’..!” he bristled, male ego once again raising its battered head in the face of insult and jealousy. Like, what did she mean, ‘just like he will’??

“Okay sure, you’re not submissive,” she chuckled, laughing unpleasantly at his little snit, “prove it.”

With that, Angie took AJ’s full head between her hands, palms on his face and manicured fingers stretching back behind his head, and faced him solidly into her plumply bulging cleavage.

“Now stroke,” she directed, and to his own aghast he couldn’t help but obey. He’d been conditioned, over these past months, helpless when confronted by her, powerless to defy her will...especially when she used her tits. What was wrong with him??? In his hand, with his eyes plastered on the pale, soft flesh of her big breasts, his cock suddenly became even more needy, ached immediately for release. He groaned, both in spleen at himself and this crippling arousal.

She laughed again. “Not submissive, hm?” she purred, “Look at you. You're totally dominated by women. You’re working for women now, you do everything women tell you to do. At the job here, in bed with me…”

”hey..!” he began to protest, eyes rising for the moment, looking for hers, “I thought you liked-”

“Oh, I do, we all do,” she capitulated, shaking her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head, redirecting his gaze back to her chest, “we love when the roles start reversing like this. Like you, getting to be my little bitch.”

“h-h-heyyyy…” he began to protest, but his voice faded, most of his fight lost between her E-cups.

“Aww, don’t feel badly,” she said, “I’ve been reading up on this. I really think men in general are getting more submissive, turning more beta, just watching as women take charge more. The doctor here included. Look what he’s done - or let happen. This whole place is run by girls.”

“H-h-huh…” AJ stammered dumbly, not even realizing he’d fallen into a rhythm, stroking himself, staring at Angie’s breasts.

“This is my chance, to get in, to take my piece,” she pronounced, ego swelling her bosom like a deep breath, “I’m so fucking alpha, I could run this place.”

”oh, uh, y-yeah..?” he spoke, bewitched and befuddled by every ripple and jiggle under her skin.

“You men like me to be in charge, don’t you? The thought of a woman boss?” she pressed, “You’d all never admit it but it gets you excited, how the women here - everywhere - are really the ones running the show, that any male authority is really just a thin facade, ready to be, like, cracked.”

“Oh my god Angie,” AJ moaned, now in the full grip of arousal, starting to pump himself with more abandon as Angie’s words struck chords with him neither he nor she had yet heard. Angie was experimenting, learning.

“Women have always been the ones to take up responsibilities, accept them and take them on, when men fail. We’ve been getting more able, more and more competent, while you all just, like, get lazy and dumb and shrink away,” she said, watching how his eyes were glazing over, his face going slack. Still he stared at her tits. “And you know the best part? It fucking turns you all on. You like getting weaker, losing responsibility and authority, your lives getting smaller as ours get bigger…”

“J-j-jesus Angie yes,” he stammered, mouth fully gaping now, his whole body shaking as he jacked off to her, to this vision of women.

She pulled his face closer. “Look at my tits. Look how big they are, look how deep and dark my cleavage is,” she commanded, “I’ll bet you wish you could shrink down and sink in there. Just become a little man and live between your girlfriend’s tits.”

“A-Angie n-n-n-...” he began, trying to deny but unable to come up with a sentence, in the face of the shame.

“Shhh, I know. I know what kind of porn guys have been into these days. I know what kind you’ve been into,” she said, “the shrinking, the bodybuilders, the giantesses…”

“unnh...unnnh…” he grunted, vision starting to close in, laser focused between her tits.

“And our breasts,” she continued, but knowing she had him close, “When did you become so obsessed with breasts? Even when you sleep, they’re there, aren’t they? Vision of my breasts swim in your head all night long.”

It was true. Her boobs were all he dreamed about. He moaned in forbearance and began to shudder.

“It’s true,” she said, her words echoing his thoughts, right as his climax began to crest, “It totally is. It’s why you wake up in the middle of the night sucking your own thumb. You want to be our fucking babies…”.

That was it, that was the final blow, and AJ could take no more. He groaned, finally closed his eyes, and came. His body lurched, shook, and cum shot up out of his cock.

Angie backed off, an inch, his head still in her hands. “There you go,” she said, plainly, “don’t get it on my dress.”

AJ, for himself, opened his eyes again, now jerking himself through it while staring into her tits again. He didn’t want to get it on her dress, so he pointed it back at himself, soiling his hand, his belly, his thigh.

“That’s right, get it all out,” she employed, patience now starting to wear thin, a new edge sharpening her voice. Though his climax still had him, she released his head, backing off another step. Her hands went to her top, pulling her neckline now more fully up over her breasts. “Finish up…”

AJ groaned in distress, his orgasm waning but ruined in its final moments. He just wanted those tits to bury himself into, and she was stepping away...

“Mommy’s got to go,” she said, finally, looking down at herself, shimmying herself back into some semblance of modesty, “Now, Aaron. This is it for us. I’m through.”

“w-w-wait whut?” AJ sputtered, confused, as his cock - just starting to deflate - leaked its final jisms onto his hand.

“I said I’m, like, done,” Angie said, straightly, looking down at him again, “You’ve been the perfect toy to practice on, and I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been fun. But I’m moving on, to bigger and better things.”

“Wait, no…” AJ managed, sobering quickly in shock but still struggling to grasp what was happening, “...are you...b-breaking up with me?”

“Yep,” she said, no hint of empathy softening her words as she watched the guy she’d lived with, the man she’d broken, start to shake. He was flailing, looking down at himself, at his mess, unsure what to do.

She reached out, grabbed a team of paper towels, and tossed it at him. “Here, clean up.”

“Angie, wait,” he tried, pulling several sheets out and starting to wipe himself down. She can’t do this, not now..! he thought, What will I do? Where will I live?? He had to stop her. “Let’s-“

“No, I’m done waiting,” she stopped him, turning away, hand already reaching for the door, grabbing the handle. An image of Melissa, her last Instagram post, flashed into her mind, made Angie seethe. “I’ve got things to do.”

And then he was alone.

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sorry for the poor image quality, ‘twas the best I could do.

more stuff, newer posts at my Patreon

#growing into the job

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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years ago

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A Magpie, a Goose and a Sparrow Walk into a Found Family Trope (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: A nightmare caused by trauma he endured before and on The Green haunts Ezra one night, his fear bleeding into reality. Under the fog of sleep, he hurts you, thinking you are the monster that is endangering you, Cee and himself while on your next trip. He apologizes by doing something that terrifies him: opening his heart up to another person.

Word Count: 10.7k+ (holy shit i deeply apologize for putting my readers through this agonizingly long junk)

Rating: M (mature) just to be safe (some pretty intense themes but i don’t think there’s anything too explicit)

Warnings: non-fatal manual strangulation and bruises from it, swearing, sexualization of two adults, mild references to sex, mild allusions to sexual arousal, discussion of trauma and its effects, Prospect (2018) spoilers, some argument, hair braiding, one (1) ✨neck✨ kiss, one use of (y/n), sprinkles of that sexual tension we all love, a resolved ending!

Author’s Note: first off, thank you SO much to @martinsmomo for this request!💜💕 this was so creative, i hope i did it justice :). second, AHHH!!!!! my first piece ever!!! i haven’t written anything on my own time for my own enjoyment since i was like 13, which may or may not be apparent by my comma splices, repetitive sentence structure/word choice and disagreeing verb tense💀. the thought of i have no idea what i'm doing never left my mind while i was writing this, but i just tried to go with it and have fun :). ALSO, i had so much fun reading all of the lore about the world that Prospect (2018) takes place in. Here is a link to a pamphlet about a lot of stuff that is featured in the movie, which i used while writing this piece. i highly recommend you check it out! i tried to stick to as much canon stuff as i could, but 🦋The Blue🦋 is something that i made up. also this is not beta’d, i just wanted to throw this into the void and see what happens✨. i also also want to point out that in no way am i trying to romanticize or sexualize domestic violence. i know that the subject matter in this piece can be triggering, and even though the violence wasn’t intentional and it’s resolved through love, i don’t want it to be misconstrued as something that it’s not. with that being said, i hope you enjoy it! :)

gif by @anakin-skywalker

A grunt stirs you from your deep slumber. Your eyes open easily, a treat that you weren’t given often due to the dryness of the pod’s recirculated air. The inside of your shared galactic chamber is as dark as your mind; no illumination to shine on your thoughts and wake them up or to show you how Ezra is doing. You know the grunt had come from him, as the only other passenger was his adopted daughter, Cee. You turn in your pilot’s chair, looking over your shoulder to try and make him out through the impossible darkness.

Parcel-Class Planetary Drop Pods were designed to fit only two travelers, however the three of you had decided to embark on your next journey together. To save on costs, your partners opted for a model without cots. Being the gentleman that he is, Ezra insisted that you and Cee sleep in the pilots’ chairs. He had thrown a few blankets on the cold, flat floor and had proudly announced, “Sleeping quarters fit for a king!”, eliciting pitiful laughter from you and Cee.

Now, your eyes can’t find the sad bundle of warmth that is his sleeping figure. He is a restless sleeper, and every time he made a noise that was more than a good-natured hum or a soft swish of rearranging his blankets, you would wake and turn to make sure that he was okay. You would do the same for Cee, but she was a fantastic sleeper. Not too deep, not too light, and never made a peep. You turn back around, giving up on trying to spot Ezra in the dark, when you hear another grunt.

This one is louder than the last.

You turn back around yet again, your own blanket falling off of your chest and into your lap. Eyebrows furrowing together and eyes squinting, your pupils strain themselves to find any shred of light to let you see. The noises increase in abundance and volume. Ezra’s sleeping fit has transformed from a halfhearted rustling to an aggravated clamor in less than a minute. Your eyes stay on the dark patch of space where you know his “bed” is situated while Cee arises from her sleep. Her chair lets out the slightest creak as she follows your gaze and attempts herself to see what all of the commotion is about. She asks you, “Is he okay?” Ezra answers her with an irritated growl through his teeth. You say to her, “I don’t know, I can’t see him, should we-”

Your suggestion of waking him up is cut short as two hands wrap around your throat. The hands twist your head to face forward, and you’re greeted with Ezra’s sweat-slicken face. Instinctively, you grasp at his forearms in an effort to ease the constriction of your neck.

Cee screams, “Ezra, let go of her!”

He defies her command and puts one of his knees in between yours on the seat of the pilot’s chair and leans closer to you. The brown eyes that you had grown to love now bore into yours with unwavering menace as the pads of his fingers press harder into the sides of your neck. His palms are flush with your larynx, threatening to crush it. You want to let out sobs of heartbreak, but are unable to. He’s restricted your actions to only being able to watch him attempt to strangle you. Your fingers aren’t able to get a grip on his limbs due to his angry sweat and your panicked claminess. Your mouth hangs open as his is shut tight, his jaw muscles stuttering with intense rage. He starts to growl through his teeth again, but a flash of light turns it into a howl.

His entire body falls back, his hands losing their purchase on your neck. You suck in a harsh breath and lean forward as Cee grabs your hand and pulls you out of the pilot’s chair. In her other hand she grips a Boscelot Frontiersman: the source of the light that had extracted Ezra’s shriek and drilled its way into his thigh. He sat on the floor in front of your chair and laced his hands just above his injury, throwing his head back and wincing.

Cee puts some feet in between the two of you and guides you across the floor to the other side of the impossibly small pod. Hoarse coughs begin to rise from your surprised larynx, accompanied by trembling of your entire body. Cee, still holding you by your arm with one hand and the Thrower in the other, yells your thoughts at Ezra, “What the fuck was that for?!” She flicks the lights on, allowing everyone to see each other’s face for the first time all night.

Ezra stares at the two of you in disbelief. Both brunette and blonde strands of hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes depressed from the subsiding adrenaline, his whole body drenched in distressed perspiration. You and him lock eyes, even through your flailing about as you continue to choke on air and delicately place your own hands over where his just had you in a vice grip. He knows what he’s done as soon as he sees you. He begins to cry and opens his mouth to start an apology that can never be adequate, but Cee hurls a field kit at his head. It hits him and he takes the blow without complaint. His devastated eyes keep to your bloodshot ones as he opens up the kit and starts to treat his justified wound. Cee stares at him with aggravation, and so do you, but her expression is void of confusion.

You are confused as all hell. What could have possibly made him do that? He seemed to be having a nightmare, but that didn’t give him the excuse to nearly strangle you to death.

Your coughs and stress start to dwindle as all of you sit there, not saying a word, the only other noise in the room being Ezra opening and closing medical supplies. He squirts a sanitizing solution over his wound, hissing, and then he takes out a Patch Gun. This sets your heart racing. The strangling was unpredicted and almost successful, would he get up once he was healed enough and try to do it again? You push yourself back against the wall and keep your widening eyes on him as he sprays the medicated foam into the hole the Thrower had burned through his trousers. He squeezes his eyes shut, winces intensely, and then fails to keep a painful wail inside his chest. You’ve seen him treat himself before, and usually his next step is to throw more than the recommended amount of pain relievers into his mouth and chew on the tablets, redirecting the pain from his injury to his mouth. He doesn’t do that this time.

Instead he throws the used Patch Gun to the side, closes the field kit and pushes it Cee’s way. He breathes your name out of his mouth, causing you to retreat further into the wall. You bring your legs to your chest and wrap your hands around the back of your neck, resting your elbows on your quaking kneecaps. Burrowing your face into the cavity you’ve created, you start bawling. Pain sears your throat, and is only intensified by your sobs, but you can’t help it. You’re absolutely terrified. Ezra says your name again, genuine with care, in an effort to get you to look at him. You shake your head once and continue to gasp into yourself. Cee startles you by touching your shoulder, and she quells your worries, “He won’t do it again.”

Her five simple words plant a seedling of peace in your heart, but it is nowhere near close to blooming. You don’t look up as she gets up and goes over to your pilot chair and grabs your blankets. Her footsteps return to you quickly, and within moments her warm, calm hands are draping the fabric over your shoulders. She rests her chin on your shoulder, moving with your heaves. A softening tone takes over her beautiful voice as she murmurs “It’s okay”s, “I’m here”s and “You’re safe”s into your blankets. Before you know it, your body succumbs to the overwhelming desire to heal mentally, emotionally and physically with sleep. Your trust in Ezra may be broken right now, but you know that Cee will watch over you. Despite her lack of size and experience compared to Ezra, you know she has the upper hand on him intellectually. He may be full of wondrous prose, a never-ending vocabulary and sharp wit, but Cee has had him in the palm of her hand ever since they met. You can sleep knowing that she can protect you and herself, if need be.

You peek out underneath your arm to qualify to yourself that Ezra is in no shape to attack again.

He sits where he landed when he fell, slouching with exhaustion. His eyes sparkle with tears of regret, his eyebrows quirked in a way that reads “There aren’t enough ways to apologize, but I’ll try every one until you forgive me.” You close your eyes, lay your head against the wall and beg the Sandman to bring you all a night of peace as you rest until the Sun comes up.

The pale blue morning light penetrates your eyelids and alerts your brain that it is time to get up. You awake to find Cee and Ezra sound asleep, her in her pilot’s chair and him in his “bed”. You are still huddled up against the wall, opposite to Ezra, and look upon him with a wary gaze. The fear he inserted into you last night makes your nerves feel like static, but at the same time you can’t help but be relaxed by his presence. It’s obvious he didn’t cause any more damage during rest of the night, so maybe his eyebrows were telling the truth: that he is sorry.

The muted sunshine washes his complexion out and dulls the warmth that his chestnut locks hold. It makes the blonde patch in his hair and the arc scar on his cheek glisten cerulean. His expression is relaxed, eyelids fidgeting under the controls of REM sleep.

The sound of Cee’s alarm clock distracts you, and moments later her hand reaches out and pushes the ‘stop’ button. Awakening limbs appear above the back of her chair, accompanied by a yawn. Your eyes dart to Ezra. He’s still asleep. She turns to you first and smiles, “Are you alright?” You nod once, return her smile, and you both turn to the slumbering man. She says, folding her blanket, “He’s fine. Calmed down after you fell asleep. He said he had a nightmare that you had turned against us. He said he wants to apologize but understands if you don’t want to speak to him.” You sigh through your nose, glancing over at him, “That’s okay. I think I would like some time away from him though. Just to process things, y’know?” Cee turns to face you, “That’s what I figured. I told him that.” You look at her and nod once.

She gets up and stretches again, folded blanket still in hand. She puts it on her seat and looks up at you excitedly, “Want to come look for aurelac with me today?”

“Definitely.”

Her face lights up with a wide smile and you mirror her reaction. Getting up and dropping your blankets to the floor, you go over to the compartment in the wall that holds your equipment. You take out what you’ll need - suit, helmet, air filter and a few Slurry Packs - and close the latch. The door slams shut harder than you intended, the resulting crash jolting Ezra awake.

A shy, apologetic smile graces his face as he meets your eyes, and you return the expression. You were still tightly wound, but were ready to start dispelling the fear, and that began by being cordial with him. His smile fades when his eyes lower to your hands and take in what you are holding. He gets up off the floor and inquires, “What do you have all that for?” His expression is neutral, but you worry that you will anger him by telling him what your plans are.

He had made it very clear since you joined him and Cee that he did not want you to prospect. He had told you that it was too dangerous of a task in itself, let alone the implications that came along with it: bartering, lying, gambling, stealing, killing. He didn’t want you or Cee to be subjected to any any of the horrors that accompanied prospecting, but Cee had been stubborn about her desires and had proven her abilities. She was great at prospecting, possessing an attention to tedium and an unwavering sense of calmness while performing the task. For a man who seeps with wisdom, Ezra wasn’t all that good of a prospector. He had the tendency to lose patience and cripple under pressure, which sometimes led to compromised digs.

“I’m going to look for aurelac deposits with Cee.” You nudge your head in her direction and she smiles at Ezra. He waves his hand dismissively, “That’s all fine and dandy,” now pointing a lazy yet warning finger at you, “But don’t you dare let prospecting dance upon those beautiful brain waves of yours.” His comment irritated you. You had never shown any signs of true disobedience to his wishes, besides the casual sigh of boredom or the bratty roll of your eyes. The words also set your heart aflutter. As you try to hide your blush and bury your annoyance, Cee says to him, “We don’t be doing any prospecting if we can’t find any aurelac.” His head tilts in agreement. He pads over to you and gingerly puts a hand on your shoulder. He had sensed your irritation and repeats his mantra of why he doesn’t want you prospecting, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Your anger became fiery again. Shoulder jerking to flick his hand off, you jab at him, “Because I’m safe in the confines of the pod?”

He points a finger at you again, this time accusatory, “That was purely an accident. Do not take it as anything but.”

Cee commands, “Both of you, stop, now. I’m not dealing with this all day. It was an accident. An inexcusable one, but an accident.”

Your and Ezra’s eyebrows had shifted to take on the same irate slope, however you both decide to just let it drop. You visibly signal your concession by dropping your shoulders and Ezra reflects you. He spins on his heels to open his own equipment hatch, and you turn to the wall yours is on. You all face the walls and change into your suits, a ritual of trust and time efficiency you decided on when the three of you agreed to work as a group.

Once dressed, you exit the pod, Ezra being first and Cee being last, and embark on your daily journey. The Sun had retreated behind some dark grey clouds. The sky was a royal blue, the ground was greige and the dark foliage that surround you drips with dew. You were stationed on the Blue Moon, an orbiting moon in the Bakhroma System. This place wasn’t highly traveled like its permanent sister (the Green Moon), due to the popular aftermath of the Aurelac Rush. Although Cee and Ezra had been there and left, many people in the galaxy still went to try and scoop up some valuable remains. Unlike The Green, The Blue wasn’t known for its abundant aurelac deposits, which is precisely why your partners chose to come here.

Their original plan was to travel to The Blue with just themselves, but while on a stop to Puggart Bench you had entranced Ezra while Cee tried to scope out her old friends and catch up with them before she set off on another mission. Demonstrating your eagerness to explore the galaxy and your expansive knowledge of it, Ezra decided to add you to his partnership. It didn’t hurt that you also tried to express your attraction to him, complimenting the rugged floater on his impressive vocabulary. He had complimented you on your willingness to listen to his ramblings, and it had been love ever since. Neither of you had come out directly and said “I love you”, and you hadn’t partaken in any physical affection, but your yearning for each other could not be more understood. His adoration for you only deepened when he saw how you interacted with Cee. Being closer to her generation than Ezra’s, you were able to connect with her like contemporaries. However, you were far enough away from her age group to the point where Ezra couldn’t act as a father figure to you. This duality made you irresistible to him.

Back to the present, you gaze at the back of his helmet intently, waiting to see what his plan of action for the day is. The Green requires visitors to wear air-tight suits and breathe through air filtration systems at all times because of harmful spores that float in the atmosphere. The Blue’s spores are far less harmful, and helmets can be taken off for 45 minute intervals, but the three of you only took them off when the confinement of the helmets became a little too much. The glass window of Ezra’s helmet swivels to you and he asks, “Split up, hourly check-ins, reconvene for lunch?”

As you’re thinking of your answer, you notice his eyes dart repeatedly up and down your body. You can tell by the way his mouth is slightly parted that he isn’t assessing your body language to predict your response. He’s thinking about all of the ways he would devour you for apology’s sake.

You look to Cee in the middle of your answer, “Sure. I’ll go with Cee today.” She smiles at you and turns to him. His mouth closes and he looks down to fiddle with his radio with thick-gloved fingers, “I’ll be on channel one.” Cee says, “Okay,” and beckons you to follow her as she sets off on a worn path. You and Ezra look at each other one more time before you turn in opposite directions and begin your divergent treks.

Catching up to Cee by jogging, your steps slow to match her pace once you are by her side. There’s silence between the two of you for a little while as you weave your way through trees of varying heights, eyes keeping to the ground to spot humps in the dirt. Humps gave away the location of aurelac deposits. A couple of slips were shared between the two of you as you climbed over hills and shuffled through valleys, the forest floor littered with puddles. What The Green has in vegetation, The Blue has in water. There were multiple lakes, some touting depths that are only achievable by advanced marine technology. Rainstorms are common, but they never grow to something like a hurricane. Everything was doused in a blue hue, whether it was the air, the water or the plants. The spores in the air resembled stagnant raindrops, peculiar in the way that they seemed to stay in their place in the atmosphere.

Cee broke the silence, “So, are you okay?” You know exactly what she is referring to and answer, “Yeah. Still a bit shaken up and confused, but other than that I guess I’m fine. I can feel bruises where his hands were.” She turns around to look at you and you lift your chin for her to see. She grimaces and says, “Yeah, you can see where each finger was and everything.” You look down, feeling disappointed that the event even happened. You ask her, “So he had a nightmare about me?” You watch the back of her helmet as she nods, “Yep. He just said that he thought you were going to endanger the three of us. He didn’t say in what way, really, just that you were a threat.” You take a moment to process the information and then fire off another question, “So, I have nightmares too, but I don’t act on them in real life. So why did he do what he did? Is there, like, an underlying feeling of distrust that he has for me, or...?” She started shaking her head halfway through your last sentence, “No, no, not at all. It’s just that The Green was so traumatic that I can understand just how vivid nightmares about it can be. And even though I don’t know much about what he went through before I met him on The Green, I’m sure prospecting was just as dangerous as it is now. I wouldn’t be surprised if at one point, or at a million points, someone that he trusted backstabbed him. But it’s nothing personal against you at all.” You nod and take in her words, trying to reassure yourself that you can trust him, even though he had done everything he could to prove you otherwise the night prior.

Cee stops and turns to you, chuckling, “If anything-”

A short sound on your radios cuts her off, and Ezra’s voice comes through the speakers, “How are you little birds coming along?”

Cee answers, “Fine. No deposits yet. What about you?” She grins at you, not forgetting to finish her comment as soon as he leaves the two of you alone.

“Nothing. I’ll be shocked if we stumble across any hint of a deposit today. Like every day. Over and out.”

You look at her, eager to hear what she has to say. This only widens her smile, and she rolls her eyes as she begins, “Like I was saying.” You both laugh as she continues, “If anything, you’re the best thing that’s happened to him. I’ve never seen his eyes light up so much at anything like they do when he looks at you.” You blush and look down at your feet shyly. She gives you a playful shove and knocks you out of your butterfly-ridden trance. Her tone changes serious as she sighs, her pitch dropping a little bit lower than normal, “You really don’t have to worry about him hurting you or me. He’s just fucked up from our time on The Green. I am too, but I experienced it in a slightly different way, and deal with it differently too. I mean, I lost my father, but he killed two other people. It got us out of there, but that’s probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life. And since it was recent, he’s still trying to figure out how to handle the whole thing. I’m not making any excuses for him, because he didn’t have any reason to attack you, regardless of any dream, but he seriously wouldn’t do that under any other circumstances.” She puts an assuring hand on your shoulder and smiles. You smile back and nod once in understanding, saying, “I believe you.” She pats your back, and you both turn to continue on your walk. A few moments pass, and she lets out another laugh. You teasingly ask her with a smile on your face, “What is it now?”

“I mean, it’s obvious that Ezra’s been through some shit, because the guy’s fucking weird as hell.” Your helmets are filled with your cackling as thoughts of the strange man play out in your head. Cee jokes, “I mean, little bird? His confusing speech pattern in general? Someone who talks in crosswords is either an ancient person who is trying to be clever in their last days because that’s the only form of strength they have left or just some asshole who finds enjoyment in verbally tricking people.” Another few moments of giggling pass before she ends with, “And what’s with the drawl?” She turns to you, the injuries in your throat burning from laughing so hard, “Have you ever heard someone else, in the entire Bakhroma System, talk like that?” You shake your head while wheezing and she says, “I haven’t either. So how did that weirdo even get here?”

The surrounding forests may be quiet, but the inside of your suits are filled with the joyful laughter of two friends who continue on their merry way to find some aurelac.

What yesterday lacked in aurelac, it made up for in emotional gains. You had spent the rest of the day with Cee, strengthening your tender bond, exploring the terrain that The Blue had to offer. Ezra kept to his promise and checked in on you two hourly, making sure that you hadn’t run into any other travelers or went too far off the grid. Your group hadn’t crossed paths with any other citizens of the galaxy since you landed, which didn’t surprise or disappoint any of you; the three of you needed some peacetime for regrouping.

You start today by scanning the pod’s dashboard of lights to make sure nothing is out of order. Because of his contempt to the idea of you prospecting, Ezra had assigned you to be the pod’s programmer. Pods were cheap to rent, so they were justifiably subject to malfunctions. Given that Cee and Ezra were tasked with mapping out The Blue and harvesting aurelac, you obliged to take the responsibility of operating the astronomical vehicle. The other job you had been given was keeper of the harvested aurelac. Once in its containers, you were to check on the gems every day and make sure that none had cracked during transport. The problem is that you haven’t had any luck at finding such valuables. It has been documented that The Blue does contain aurelac, but that it is extremely difficult to find. However, the average gem on The Blue is thrice the size of that which The Green holds. So the size and abundance differences are a lawful tradeoff.

While you’re analyzing a digital screen on the dashboard, an expressive yawn escapes a man’s mouth. You twist to see Ezra stretching his arm out, eyes and nose scrunched in delight at the wringing out of his muscles. A smile graces your face as you take in his exaggerated display of awakening, and he mirrors your smile when he opens his eyes. His arm relaxes at his side, and a raspy morning voice greets you, “Hi.” You smirk at his unadorned statement and say back, “Hi.” He holds your gaze for a moment before turning to pick his mechanical arm up off the floor next to him. After losing his arm on The Green, his prospecting abilities fell drastically. He had to take out a loan to pay for the artificial limb, but it would restore his talents, so it was a fair deal. That’s why the three of you had gone on this mission, rather than building your friendship on Puggart Bench: to harvest aurelac to repay the loan.

Cee grabs both you and Ezra’s attention as she wakes with a start. Getting up and out of her pilot’s chair, she merrily folds her blankets and marches over to her equipment hatch. You and Ezra share a look of bewilderment, and he questions, “Good morning?” She flips around to you both, forgetting that you were in the pod with her. She cheers, “Good morning!” Reading the two confused expressions that watch her, she explains, “I want to go and look at this area that we missed yesterday. It has a lot of hills, so maybe that’s an indicator of more deposits. I was going to look at it yesterday, but then we came together for lunch, and I completely forgot about it until now.” Noting that she is the only one in the pod that is anywhere near awake, she asks both you and Ezra, “Is it okay if I go by myself?”

Memories of the last 36 hours flicker in your head, discomforting your nerves. It’s not that you don’t trust Ezra, but you don’t trust Ezra. The outburst that he had the other night frightened the shit out of you, and you’ve been wary to interact with him at all, let alone without Cee present to diffuse the situation if it got too tense. The fear he had shoved upon you was still fresh, but the excitement in Cee’s face and your tiresome brain convinced you that it would be okay. Maybe during this time alone you could patch things up with him. Him and Cee had given you a general rundown of what had happened on The Green when you first met, but you could prod Ezra about the details. Hopefully you could uncover some explanations to his night terrors.

You look over at him to gauge his reaction to her proposition, and he’s staring at you with puppy-dog eyes. His mouth is turned up in a soft smile, and you can’t help but grin at the way his hair is still unruly from his sleep. Suddenly you feel a pleasant heat between your legs, and you can’t tell if it’s just your body waking up or the overwhelming desire to pepper a million kisses over the sleepy man’s face. Refusing to admit to yourself that the latter is the true culprit of your wetness, you shake your head slightly to rock you out of your trance and say to Cee, “Yeah, that would be fine.” Ezra’s smile at you widens before he turns to Cee and inputs, “I concur. Like always, just be sure to watch your surroundings carefully. You’ll find us here when you return.” She nods once and turns to her equipment hatch, signaling you and Ezra to turn to yours as well to give her some privacy as she changes. Once changed, she closes her hatch, puts her helmet on and departs, “I’ll be on channel one. See you guys later!” You and Ezra both give halfhearted waves, still too tired to formulate any meaningful words. The door to the pod closes behind her, and you are alone with Ezra.

The anticipation of being alone with him made you more anxious than how you feel now, letting your eyes fall to the man still on the floor. He’s already looking up at you, the lazy smile still pulling at his cheeks. The desire to invite yourself into his bed, wrap yourself in his blankets and limbs in order to match the warmth that is flooding your genitals, and doze off into a lustful nap tries to take over your mind. You fight it with everything you have and make your way over to your pilot’s chair. Positioning yourself so that you’re facing Ezra, he simply asks you, “Hungry?” You nod your head and he reaches behind himself. His hand reappears with a Bits Bar, tossing it to you. The only sounds that fill the pod are the crinkling of the wrappers and your respective chewing. Although you’re both preoccupied with eating, Ezra’s silence is deafening. He tended to drop his confusing lingo when talking to you, since he wasn’t trying to trick you. He hadn’t had the courage to reveal his true feelings to you yet, which will be so poetic and heartfelt it will make you sick to your stomach, so he stuck to simple statements. He wanted you to note the difference between his conversations with you and other people, so he made it a very clear point to forgo his prose and expansive vocabulary. He wanted you to note that he revealed his truest sentiments to you and tried his best to hide them from others.

The peaceful nature of the morning encouraged you to bring up an irritating topic with him, “I only want to prospect because I want to help you guys.” He tries to keep his eyes on his food, knowing that looking into your eyes will ignite his possessive and protective nature, “I know that. And it doesn’t matter how many motives you come up with, birdie, there will never be a time when you’re in my care that you will prospect. That’s the extent that I will let this conversation fester to.” His dismissive demeanor infuriates you. You fire back at him, trying not to let your tension leak into your voice, “I’m not Cee. You are not my parent or my guardian, you’re my partner. So there’s no social expectation that I have to submit to your desires.” His irritation grows, entertaining his fingers by folding the wrapper, “That is technically true. But a good partner will never put their partner at risk. And I have deemed it risky for you to prospect.” His retaliation sets you off. You didn’t want this to turn into an argument, but you also don’t want to back down from this. Your eyebrows crease together in frustration, your arms cross and your mouth sets itself in a frown.

He looks up from his distraction and becomes infuriated by your look. Now he’s pissed. He begins a verbal knife fight, “Maybe if you had experienced what it’s like to have a shitty partner, you would appreciate my efforts to protect you.”

“I’m not ungrateful.”

“In a way, you are. You abandoned everything you had on Puggart Bench once you met me and Cee. You had friends, a nice family, a stable living situation, a good education. Don’t blame me for a position that you put yourself in.”

“First of all, that’s how it looked to you. Second, a good education in prospecting! Maybe if you weren’t staring at my ass every second of every day, you would have asked me what I was studying. I can probably prospect better than you can.”

“I’d find pure, mocking enjoyment in seeing you try to harvest. I would bet my life that I can prospect better than you can, even with my impediment!” He motions to his mechanical arm.

“You wouldn’t have the impediment if you weren’t so fucking devious! And don’t even get me started on the arrogance, or the fucking pretentiousness!”

Your overheated exchange comes to a halt when the pod’s door opens. Cee climbs in, and you and Ezra try to mask your fury for each other as much as you can. She acknowledges the two of you and says, “Just need an air filter.” The atmosphere turns awkward as you watch her get what she needs out of her hatch. She’s leaving as soon as she came in, and you hold up a parting hand and say, “Be safe. Have fun.” She tilts her chin at you, and Ezra chimes in, “Be safe, Sparrow.” She exits, disappearing into The Blue.

Her interruption quelled the fire that burned between you and Ezra, subsequently drowning you in a wave of guilt over your words. Ezra’s looking down at his hands, shadows keeping his expression unreadable. You uncross your arms in defeat as you feel tears gather on your bottom eyelids. Opening your mouth to apologize, Ezra puts his hand up and directs, “Don’t apologize.” You protest, “But-” He cuts you off, “Don’t. Apologize.” You audibly sigh and sit back in your chair, not facing him anymore. You wish you could just kiss him. It would shut the both of you up and finally bring your shared, passionate feelings to the surface. Instead you opt to stare at the program board in front of you. How sexy. Such allure. You roll your eyes at your own naivety.

Both of you sit and replay all of the moments that led you to the peak that you sit atop, questioning how to safely start the descent. You decide to break the silence with a neutral topic, “Why do you call her Sparrow?” Staying turned away from each other, Ezra answers, “Well, now that I have two little birds in my life, I have to distinguish them.” Your heart glows at his comment, but it’s not enough to wipe the somber expression off of your face.

“Why Sparrow though?”

“She’s adaptable. She’s been able to keep a sane mind while traveling through Puggart Bench, The Green, The Ephrate, The Blue. The presence of others doesn’t deter her from her work, yet she’s not aloof to their existence.”

His musings entertain you. Your anger begins to become a thing of the past as you get off of your chair and sit down on the floor a few feet away from him. Being on a literal level playing field only increases your ease.

“What are you?”

He smirks, “A magpie.”

“I should’ve known.”

You share a bit of laughter before he explains, “I’m intelligent in trickery. I take pride in my illusions, but that’s not all I possess. Once I find my mate, I become protective of them, sometimes to the point of absurdity. A magpie male and female share the brunt of building a nest; as all great relationships should split the responsibility of reconciliation equally.” Regarding his last sentence, he raises one eyebrow at you. You stretch your legs out so that the soles of your shoes touch his.

“Magpies mate for life.”

You break your eye contact. You have grown shy from his pointed allusions, so you playfully fiddle his feet with yours. A moment passes before he says, “You’re a snow goose.” Confused, you look up at him, “A snow goose?” He nods enthusiastically, “Yes, a snow goose.” You shake your head, giggling, “I’ve never heard of those.” He leans forward with shock, “Really?” “Yep.” He shakes his head once and stands up to open his equipment hatch above you. He pulls out a book and sits back down, this time beside you. All About Birds. You assume the birds are alphabetized as you watch him flip the book open about 4/5 of the way through, and he presents you with a page: “Snow Goose”. Amused by the fact that he wasn’t lying, you let out a laugh. He laughs with you, “My Goose needs to brush up on her avian animal knowledge.” A minute has to pass before the cackling subsides. Then he paraphrases, “Snow geese are another adaptable bird, preferring to travel in packs. They roost mainly in bodies of water: marshes, ponds, the like. Ringing true to stereotypes of the general breed, they are very territorial of their property once they claim what is theirs. Snow geese have a brilliant white coat, which I equate to your magnificent aura. They are similar to magpies in that they mate for life.”

You look up from the book and are greeted with chocolate eyes glazed in infatuation. Thighs and arms pressed together, you turn to rest your chin on Ezra’s shoulder. Flickering eyes go back and forth between his eyes and his lips, signaling to him that if he wanted to kiss you, you wouldn’t object. He inserts, “Snow geese also don’t lack in paying homage to their reputation of being loud bitches.” You gasp and lay a swat on his chest as he chuckles away at his poking. After he has had his fill of laughing, you return to your resting place on his shoulder and let out a sigh.

A few quiet moments go by before you look up at him and admire the handsome, irritating, brave, stubborn, loving man who are you enamored with. You reach your hand up and comb your fingers through his hair once, twice. He leans into your hand as you continue to brush his locks, “Ezra?” He hums, eyes closing rapidly from the lulling pleasure you’re giving him, “Mm-hm?” You whisper, “I’m sorry.” A stark contrast from earlier, he allows your apology. He opens his eyes and they’re dripping with honest remorse and helpless romance, “I’m sorry too.”

Yesterday didn’t amount to what you had originally planned to accomplish, but it was still a good day. Despite all of the insult hurling and badmouthing, you and Ezra ended the day on a nice note. Getting to the bottom of his nightmares could wait for another time. You both had needed a day of fun together to put aside your hostilities before you embarked on discussing trauma. Cee had returned without a problem, hands void of aurelac but filled with notes of The Blue’s landscape.

You wake up, startled, All About Birds slipping off of your lap and onto the floor. You had sliced it out of Ezra’s dormant fingers after he had fallen asleep, your curiosity piqued from his earlier paraphrasing. Cee’s awake and bustling about in the pod, trying to find something, anything, to eat that isn’t a Bits Bar or a Slurry Pack. As you lean over to pick the book up from the floor, you catch Ezra’s eyes on you.

He’s standing at his equipment hatch, doing some much needed cleaning up. He’s a traveler who believes in organized chaos, that putting things in their “right” place takes up too much valuable time.

You smile up at him shyly and as you sit back upright with the book in your hands he says, “Did you find any specimens that better suit us?” You shake your head, “No, you were pretty damn spot on with your choices.” He flashes a smug grin, one that paints your face pink with amusement. Cee plops down in her chair with a huff of defeat, unwrapping a Bits Bar. Ezra hears her and says, “(Y/N) and I will take today’s assignment, Cee. You’ve warranted yourself a break after your ingenious expeditioning yesterday.” She says, “Good, because my legs feel like jelly.” The three of you laugh and you get up and rush to your equipment hatch. With your and Ezra’s friendship on its way to restoration, you were excited to find what the day would hold. The two of you get dressed in a flash, and you tell Cee before putting on your helmet, “We’ll be on channel one, like always.” She sticks a thumb up from behind her chair, and with that you and Ezra are on your way out of the pod.

The rays of the Sun today are periwinkle, streaming through small gaps in the overhanging vegetation. The air is tinted royal blue, the trees shimmer with teal sparkles, the soil a shade of navy. You inhale deeply as if you can smell the fresh air through your air filter, imagining a place where you could be with your gang without all of this clumsy equipment, without giving up the majesty that this landscape has.

Ezra snaps you out of your daydream, “Where to today, Snow Goose?”

You pull out a map from a pocket on your back and scan it, looking for any uncharted territory. “Let’s go west today. There’s a big chunk of land that we haven’t documented yet.”

He nods and begins your quest by turning to the left and walking. You follow him, folding the map and keeping it in your hands. Little conversation is shared between the two of you for the first bit of the journey and the silences aren’t awkward. The majority of your time is spent looking up, admiring the scenery as the Sun comes up and illuminates more of the land. Different hues of blue are unearthed as light reaches deeper crevices: the underside of leaves show turquoise veins, the inside of a hollowed tree trunk boasts a purplish-blue hybrid. The puddles on the ground vary in shape, size, depth and color, and are scattered about the ground in an oddly methodical fashion.

After a while of marveling at the sights, you regret getting dressed so quickly. You hadn’t brushed your hair properly, and the braid you had put it in was loose. Rubbing against your helmet with all of your head turning, the braid had fallen almost completely out of his shape and it was threatening to combine with your sweat to mold to your face. You instinctively put your hands to your helmet to try to push it out of your way, but you are met with glass resistance. Ezra, peeking over his broad shoulder to make sure he hadn’t lost you, notices your frustration, “Let me help you with that.” You furrow your eyebrows at him and wave off his help, “No, it’s okay. I’ll deal with it.” He shook his head quickly and spins on his heels, looking around and spots two conveniently placed tree stumps, one behind the other, that will accommodate te his fantasy. He gestures to them, “Have a seat, Goose.”

You stand there, not wanting to indulge in the dream. This was just as much of a dream for you as it is for Ezra. He watched you, everyday before you went out of the pod, braid your hair and willed that one day it would be his hands that would twist your smooth locks. And everyday you braided your hair, you would envision him standing behind you, concentrating hard on his handiwork, his hot breath cascading down the back of your neck, his knuckles grazing your back. Ezra starts walking over to the stumps and motions for you to follow.

You obey his command and sit down on the seat in front of his, scooting back so that he doesn’t have to reach very far to touch you. A depressing gasp fills the air as you detach your helmet and set it in your lap. Ezra’s gloves appear over your shoulder, “Can you hold these for me?” You were already turned on enough by the thought of him braiding your hair, now he would be braiding your hair with naked fingers and you got to hold the battered material that guarded those impossibly large hands almost everyday? Yeah, this is an illusion. You wait to wake up from your slumber. but are reminded that this situation is very real when Ezra’s fingers reach around your head to brush the sweaty hairs out of your face. His touch is gentle, unlike from the incident a few days ago. Now that you aren’t fighting for your life, you can take in the small, romantic details that you didn’t notice before. The pads of his fingers are rough but not scratchy. You see his fingernails, neatly trimmed and free from any sort of grime. How he pulls off that sorcery while being a prospector, regardless of the gloves, you will never know.

You tense as his fingers glide over your bruised neck, collecting your hair and bringing it all to your back. He holds your hair in one hand while the other stutters on a bruise. He senses your unease and strangles out, “I’m sorry.” You grip his gloves a little tighter, trying to fight your tears from spilling, and shake your head slightly, “It’s okay.” You’re ready to move past it. It’s important to remember that it happened, but you’re ready to rebuild your relationship. Like he jabbed at you the other day, leaving Puggart Bench had been tough for you. You worry that your leaving left behind permanent scars that would impact the relationships you had there. Ezra and Cee feel like the only friendships that you can count on to last. You need them.

Knocking you out of your despair, Ezra pulls your hair to one of your shoulders and rests his chin on the other. He turns his head so that his breath spills across your bare neck. He runs a finger lightly across a bruise and asks, mouth millimeters away from your skin, “May I?” You nod, and he plants an imperceptibly light kiss on your neck. You let a tear dribble down your cheek, wiping it away as quickly as it ran.

A thought enters your mind: my god, his lips are soft as fuck. The combination of the softness with the tickling of his patchy facial hair was heavenly, if not orgasmic. You giggle at your own thoughts* (*thots), intriguing Ezra, “What is it?” You decide to be transparent, “Nothing, it’s just that your mouth is soft as fuck.” A hearty laugh erupts from his chest, “Now I don’t want to put an end to your seductive observations, Goose, but I want this to be an innocent affair.” You smile and sit up straight, letting him know that you are willing to drop the flirtation. For now.

His fingers separate your hair into three sections and he says, referencing the other day, “As a treaty to our battles, I would like to clarify that I don’t think you’re ungrateful.” A soft smile graces your face and you input your own treatise, “And I don’t think you’re arrogant or fucking pretentious. You are a little devious though.”

He chuckles, “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be the scoundrel that I am, now would I?”

You shake your head no. No, he wouldn’t be the scoundrel that you are not so secretively in love with. As you sit there, enjoying the limited amount of time you are allowed with your helmet off, the details of your dreams prove to be true: you can feel Ezra’s concentrated breath warm the nape of your neck, his knuckles tap your suit when he twists your hair a certain way. You yearn for the day that you will be able to touch each other, feel each other’s true weight and texture, without the suits getting in the way.

“So, if you’re so good at prospecting, why don’t you tell me how you do it?”

His tone is playful and your situation could not be more peaceful, so you decide to indulge him, “Well, first you have to find a deposit, which is usually indicated by a lump in the ground.”

He verifies your first step, “Uh-huh...?”

“Then you want to pour a solution into the deposit’s hole. You don’t want to pour too much though, or else it could cause an explosion.”

Ezra’s hands stop. You turn and ask him, “Is everything okay?” He nods, his eyes first staring off into the landscape and then refocusing once they land on you. He continues to involuntarily nod as he says, “That’s what permitted Cee and I to escape The Green. She threw an entire pint of solution into a deposit. Nearly blew the entire place to bits.”

You feel rude when you realize that your mouth is hanging open in shock. You close your mouth and words about his time on The Green tumble out of his, “I am devious, indeed. But there were people--beings--there that would make me look like an angel. I take responsibility for killing Cee’s father because he tried to hijack my stash. A man’s work is no petty thing, Goose. I ended up having to kill two others there, in the end. I overestimated our luck after the first one, thinking that it would’ve been a simple escape. I killed the other mercilessly. You see now, Goose, the dangers that I encountered on The Green alone. I would never be able to forgive myself if I allowed you into harm’s way, and you became a tragedy.”

You reach a hand out and cup his face, which he leans into. He still holds onto your hair, your braid halfway done, and you say, “I was ungrateful, and I’m sorry for that.” He shakes his head once, taking your hand from his face and kissing your palm, “Now you see why I wanted to strangle you in my nightmare. I dreamt that you were someone else, some other thing, that was threatening to drag our trio back to that wretched land.” You both breathe out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Even though it was nervous, you are glad that the both of you are taking some steps in the right direction.

He clears his throat and sits up straight, “Now, after you dodge an eruption, what is the next step of prospecting?”

You face ahead and let him continue your braid as you speak, “Next you want to remove the husk from the deposit, and cut the cord that connects the two. Then you want to remove the inner membrane from the husk.”

He quizzes you, “And what’s inside the inner membrane?”

“The aurelac gem.”

“Correct. Continue.”

“Then you want to cut out any blisters, but if you cut too carelessly you could puncture it, which will release acid. If that happens then the gem ceases to be worth anything.”

“That’s where my expertise usually falters.”

“Finally you want to remove the gem from the inner membrane, douse it in fazer solution, and you have your stone.”

He tests you again, “What is the purpose of the fazer solution?”

“To stabilize the gem and increase its clarity. Higher clarity grants higher payout.”

He pats your shoulder twice and ties your hair off with the hair tie you used for your loose braid, “Fantastic job, Goose. Couldn’t have explained it better myself.” He stands, walks around your stumps and holds a hand out to you. You take it, even though you were perfectly capable of getting up yourself. You got to hand him his gloves, and he stops you, “Wait a minute.” Both of his hands come to the sides of your face and push a few stray hairs behind your ears; the finishing touches to his masterpiece. You can tell he did a good job without having to look at it, since it didn't feel too loose or too tight, and the problem you had before was now solved. His tongue darts out and runs the edge of his bottom lip before he takes a step back, throwing his hands up, “Voila!” You giggle, eliciting a smile from Ezra wide enough to make the skin around his eyes crinkle in happiness. You hand him his gloves, which he puts on before you both secure your helmets back to your suits.

Ezra checks in with Cee, “Everything alright, Sparrow?”

A few seconds pass before she answers, “Yep, just listening to my music. Everything alright on your end?”

“Affirmative. We’ll be staying outside for lunch. Over and out.”

Ezra’s eyes gaze into yours for a brief moment before they move past your shoulder, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. You ask, “What?” before turning and following his stare. A patch of undisturbed soil, littered with lumps. In his rush by you, Ezra grabs your hand and pulls you along with him as you run to the potential aurelac deposits, laughing at his enthusiasm. He halts at the brink of the field, choosing which one he wants to dig up first. You suggest, “Why don’t we start from the outside and work our way in?” He nods, “That’s a great idea,” and drops to his knees. You stare at the mound in front of him as you sink down to the ground, pulling out your map. You mark where this field is located as he preps his harvesting tools. Once he’s prepared, he sighs and takes your hand, “Do you want to help me, Goose?”

You nearly spring to your feet with excitement, “Would I ever!”

He beams at your reaction and begins the process by clearing the dirt away from the mound to reveal the deposit. “How about for this first time, you just hand me the tools?” You nod, taking this as slowly as he wants to, “Whatever you’d like.” He grins as he cuts a hole in the deposit, knife already in hand. “Solution,” he requests. You hand him the bottle and he does the honor of pouring it over the deposit. A white steam emits from the hole, and he reaches in and grabs the husk. “Let me cut this cord, you can do the next one.” You agree and watch as he cuts it with his knife. He places the husk on a flat patch of land and requests his next tool, “Scalpel.” You hand him a Ralon Crusader Laser Scalpel and watch him work.

Laser scalpels are primarily used for precision work, like this step and the removal of blisters, while any generic knives will do the job when cutting the cord or opening up the deposit.

You watch as he makes an incision in the husk, handing you back the tool once he’s done. He wrangles the inner membrane out of the husk and holds his hand out. You know that he wants the scalpel back, and you give it to him. He flashes you a smile for your readiness, but then hands you the scalpel back. You take it, confused, and he says, “I’d like you to cut the blisters off of this one.”

Your pupils narrow and your muscles grow tense. You know the steps of prospecting backwards and forwards, but you had never carried out a lab experiment, let alone prospected aurelac in the wild. Ezra lays a gentle hand on your forearm, “I have eternal faith in you, Goose.” You move toward the membrane and turn the scalpel on. Ezra holds it steady for you as you go to remove the blister. There’s only one, which is a slight relief. You plunge the scalpel into the membrane, thinking that the skin would be thicker, and a hiss greets you. You pull back as the membrane deflates and an amber liquid seeps from it, the hissing never stopping. Your mortified eyes look up into Ezra’s and you immediately apologize, “I’m so sorry, Ezra, I thought that-” He raises a hand, “It is not a big deal in the slightest, Goose. I’ve never come across a prospector that didn’t puncture the membrane, or fail to mix the fazer solution correctly the first time.” He senses your lingering humiliation and grabs your shoulders, turning you even more towards himself, “Really, it’s fine.” You want to melt into his hands, crawl into his lap and just hide there until you feel better, but you know that you have to move on.

He points to the mound behind you, “Let’s try that one.” You stay on the ground and move the tools with you, while Ezra stands and walks over before he squats. You hand him the knife, watch him repeat the process and hand him tools as he needs them: slice the deposit, squirt in the solution, remove the husk, sever the cord, open the husk, take the membrane out. He looks to you, “I want you to try again.” Turning the scalpel on, its vibrations feel more vigorous against your heightened nerves than they did last time. Ezra assumes his position of securing the slippery pod, and you begin cutting. Again only one blister, you circle the blemish with the blade. Once the circle is complete, Ezra reminds you, “It’s easiest to pull it off with your fingers.” You follow his directions, turning the instrument off and setting it to the side. You pull on sticky flesh, and the part that you cut comes off easily. Ezra sighs, “Incredible.” Sliding his fingers in between the membrane and the aurelac, he pulls the rock out and discards the pouch. He calls for the fazer solution, which you hand him and watch as he washes the gem with it. Another hissing sound can be heard, much quieter than the one that came when you punctured the membrane. He holds the aurelac up to the blue Sun, and both of you observe, amazed, at how the light shines through the gem. Aurelac is an amber-hued stone, sometimes with ripples in the color, encased in a foggy crystal. The blue light complements the orange shade of the gem exquisitely.

Ezra turns to you, eyes bright with satisfaction, hands muddied with gristle, “Superb job, Goose!” He leans into you, helmet shields touching and reaches forward to kiss your glass. You smile and laugh with him in gratification. You can’t wait to harvest the rest of the mounds with your partner.

A warmth you have never felt before bestows itself to you this early morning. It flourishes in your heart and subsequently pumps through your body, reaching from the crown of your head all the way down to the soles of your feet. It stretches from your ribs to the ends of your fingertips, running in cycles back and forth. The cause of this pleasure was not from the large aurelac haul you had pulled yesterday, but from the man that you harvested with. Ezra’s arms encircle you, heavy with sleep. You’re swaddled in his blankets with him, the depths of sleep tempting you to fall back down to their level of subconscious. The Sun hasn’t risen yet.

You had crawled into Ezra’s awaiting lap after Cee had fallen asleep the night before. It wasn’t that you felt like you had to hide your feelings from her, but the dynamic still made you feel a little bit awkward, even with Ezra’s reassurance and Cee’s encouragement to pursue him. You would feel more comfortable if she were to wake up and find the two of you in your designated sleeping arrangements, and not in an amorous yet innocent entanglement of limbs.

You can practically feel a rainbow sprout from your chest as you look up at Ezra, finding delight in his relaxed expression. His hair is messy not from the tossing and turning of a restless night’s sleep, but the enamored strokes of a yearning partner’s fingers. The whirlwind of malachite butterflies in your stomach nudges you away from sleep. You press your hands into Ezra’s chest, where they have been resting, and turn to nuzzle your nose into his collarbone before you start to slip out of his embrace. Gently lifting his arms off of you in an effort to keep him asleep, you fail. He cups the side of your face and rubs his thumb back and forth against your cheek a few times before he lets his arm fall to his side. He gives you a smile of understanding, allowing you to leave him only because he will dream about holding onto you for forever once he drifts off again. You give him a playful boop on his nose before you stand and trudge over to your pilot’s chair, sinking down into your own cold blankets. You try your best to recreate the heat you just deserted by bundling yourself up tight, but it’s not the same. However uncomfortable, you quickly succumb to the temptation of sleep.

The true morning gives rise to an energetic group of prospectors. Still joyful about yesterday’s collection, you, Cee and Ezra are enthusiastic to stroll around The Blue again and see what else could be in store for you. Stretching in your chair, Ezra grabs your raised hands and leans over the back of your seat. You look up into his eyes and he greets you, “Good morning, Goose.” You smile and tease, “Good morning, Magpie.”

Cee blurts out, “Finally, you give her a nickname too!” You and Ezra laugh as he releases your hands, and you turn to face Cee at her equipment hatch. “I like Magpie too. Very fitting,” she raises an eyebrow at Ezra and he shoots you a wink. You get up to fold your blanket, Ezra glides over to his own equipment hatch, and Cee says, “You know, I say you guys last night.” Your face instantly beats red, and Cee notices, “No, it’s fine. It makes me happy to see a couple that can get over obstacles and love each other through it all.” You still feel a bit embarrassed, but shrug it off.

A word she chose makes you question Ezra, “Are we a couple?”

“Of course. We’ve always been partners, haven’t we?”

Suited up, the three of you enter The Blue. After your daily assessment of the land (beautiful, as always) you turn to Cee and wait for her direction. She had mapped out the majority of the Blue Moon the day that you and Ezra stayed inside the pod, so you trusted her guidance the most. Ezra asks, “Where to today, birdies?” Cee analyzes the map before pointing to an area, “This block was filled with hills. It didn’t look like there were many deposits, but then again I’m not the best at spotting them.” Eager to start, you ask, “Which way do we go?” Ezra glances at the map, points to the right and commences your expedition, “This is the way.”

💘taglist: @pascalpanic

#ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect #ezra fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #ezra x fem!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pascalitos #found family trope #prospect 2018

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years ago

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Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

#my writing #Dolls' Eyes #MCU #Avengers: Endgame #Peggy Carter #Brunnhilde #Carol Danvers #Valkyrie #Captain Marvel #Steve Rogers #Nick Fury

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secretsolenoid · 4 years ago

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A belated Secret Solenoid gift for psymon on twitter!

“You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

Ratchet grunts, his attention on the space bridge controls. “What?”

Arcee, standing by the gate of the bridge, gives him a knowing look. “You don’t have to stay trapped on Earth forever.”

“I’m not trapped here,” Ratchet says stiffly, gesturing towards the bridge. “Minor ah--hiccups aside, the space bridge is fully functional. I do not require some--of some rescue, Arcee. There is work to be done and liaising to manage with Agent Fowler. Unless you would prefer to take over management of the Earth Base yourself? Have you perhaps gained a new skill in engineering while you were away on Cybertron?”

Arcee rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in front of her chassis. “That’s not what I meant,” she says, “and you know it. You can take a day to go to Cybertron if you want. A week, even.”

“I certainly can not,” Ratchet huffs. “Even if I weren’t busy today, it is hardly advisable to travel through the space bridge with it unattended, as you well know. With no one to take over the controls other than, perhaps, you, I cannot leave my post. Until someone else decides to station themselves here on Earth, I am going to remain.”

“You could ask for someone to stay here in your stead for a few weeks,” she points out. “I’m sure Bumblebee would be happy to send someone your way.”

“Someone like Bulkhead, who would be better placed on Cybertron to help with the rebuilding?” Ratchet scoffs. “No, I will stay here, thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” Arcee says. “But, fine. Any messages you want me to take back? For anyone in particular?”

Ratchet goes stiff. “No,” he says. “Just pass on my well-wishes to the team.”

Arcee presses her lip plating together to hold in a sigh. “Ratchet…”

“Ahp-ahp-ahp!” Ratchet says sharply. He presses his hands down on the edge panels of the space bridge’s controls. “I already told you what I’m doing, and I won’t be talked out of it. If anyone is interested in “catching up” with me, they can comm me, or come visit themselves.”

Arcee shrugs. “Well, I tried,” she says. “I’ll let them know you said hi.”

“You can choose to do so,” Ratchet says stiffly and does not look up from the controls as she passes through the gate.

He is busy, is the thing. There are a million things to take care of around the base, even with Agent Fowler bringing in some degree of funding from the U.S. Government and Rafael to handle the programming.

There’s still plenty of manual labor to do and plenty more specialized tools that Ratchet has to figure out how to cobble together out of materials from Earth and the few that can be spared from the rebuilding efforts on Cybertron. He is, after all, still one of the Autobots’ best medics, and that expertise means he’s the only one with the familiarity of some of the methods of repair that used to be popular in the hospitals and universities of their planet. Most medics now know how to reattach a limb or close a bleeding wound, but few know how to recalibrate a spark chamber or rewire an optic as good as new.

Ratchet will probably have to teach them how to do it-- eventually. For now, he can’t.

And he certainly can’t return to Cybertron when that-- that Wrecker--

“Slag it,” Ratchet curses and brings his hand to his face. He can’t blame Drift for joining up with the Wreckers. He’s had more than enough time to get over the idea of his lover in that group and has confirmation from both Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus that he didn’t do too badly in the group-- though that bothers him on its own. He knows what the Wreckers can be like. Wheeljack is a perfect example of it. Rough around the edges at their best and occasionally actively bloodthirsty when driven to it. Knowing the environment that Drift came out of, Ratchet is sure that the Wreckers were familiar, but he’s not sure if they were the best thing for Drift.

But Drift chose to go, and Ratchet chose not to follow, and now it’s been eons since they last saw each other. And now Drift is on Cybertron, and Ratchet is here on Earth. It’s the closest they’ve been since that fateful split, and here Ratchet is, staying right where he is.

He’s always been a stubborn fool, is the thing. He knows that, even where it counts, he is likely to shoot himself in the foot, say something he’ll regret, cling too long to what’s comfortable rather than doing what’s best for him. Maybe it’s age that’s made him so intractable. Maybe it’s the war. Whatever the case, when he thinks about going back to Cybertron to find Drift and say--something, anything--to him, he can’t bring himself to make the call.

So instead, he’ll stay here on Earth with his anger boiling and his spark aching, and refuse offers like Arcee’s, to help.

It is only two Earth days later when he receives a message from Cybertron. It isn’t a video-- they rarely have time or the bandwidth for those these days, even with the space bridge. It’s just a list of provisions in the delivery, a request for whatever tools are finished, and a note that whoever they’re sending over will need to be introduced to Earth and the humans. Another new arrival from the depths of space who doesn’t know Optimus Prime’s team and the planet where the final days of the war were fought.

Ratchet feels a frisson of nerves at the prospect, a tingle of static that runs all through his haptic net. He pushes it aside. He’s never been the type to see conspiracies around every corner, and he refuses to see one here. It’s not the first time this has happened, and while he finds introducing other Autobots to the organic planet singularly irritating, he did sign himself up for it. He has no one to blame for it but himself.

It’s a simple delivery run. Ratchet might not like it, but he can handle it. He sends back a confirmation to Cybertron, runs the time conversion, and discovers that he has a few Earth hours before the delivery from Cybertron. Just as well. Diving into his work will give him a chance to wipe these nerves out.

It’s probably not Drift that they’ve sent to make this delivery. And if it is, Ratchet will deal with it then. No use worrying over it when there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

He manages to finish a circuit diagnostic device in those few hours, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling jumpy and on edge the entire time. He runs a whole battery of tests once the device is finished, then does them again. When the only thing that does is leave him with an instrument he can’t justify fiddling with further, he turns his attention instead to the space bridge. Running more diagnostics gives him something to do with his hands, but it doesn’t give him anything else to think about-- he’s run these tests so many times he can make the adjustments while hardly thinking about it.

Instead, he starts thinking about the very thing he was trying to avoid. What will he do if it isn’t Drift? What will he do if it is?

He tries to think of something to say and finds his processor simply stalling. Nothing he could say seems particularly worth saying, especially when he can’t think of what Drift might have to say to him in turn.

When the appointed time comes, it’s a blessing from Primus.

Ratchet receives his first warning in a message from Bulkhead. It starts with a ping, then when Ratchet answers, a video opens. It fuzzes with static due to the distance, but Ratchet can make out Bulkhead’s grinning face all the same.

“Heya, Ratch!” Bulkhead says with his usual ebullience. “How are you doing?”

“Just fine, Bulkhead.” Ratchet responds. “What do you have for me?”

Tellingly, Bulkhead’s optics slide away from Ratchet’s face. “Just, uh, some supplies. And, uh, a visitor! To carry the supplies.”

“Anyone I know?” Ratchet asks.

Bulkhead clears his throat loudly. He’s still not looking at Ratchet. “Uuuuuh, maybe,” he says. “You know what, I’ll just let him through; you two can talk about it.”

Ratchet can’t hold back a scowl, but he manages to hold back from barking at Bulkhead, who isn’t exactly innocent but is not deserving of Ratchet’s irritation at this situation. No one is, but Ratchet can’t help the way his nerves shunt themselves in bursts of outrage at every small thing. Maybe it will be better if he gets this over with.

He huffs but lets Bulkhead get away with it. “Send them over, then.”

Bulkhead’s shoulders sag with relief. “Starting bridge sequence, Ratch,” he says, and the video flicks off.

Ratchet runs one final check, lets the bridge confirm coordinates, and steps back from the control panel when the bridge powers up and the glowing blue-green vortex appears. Everything looks stable, and there’s no reason it shouldn’t be. Ratchet could operate the panel, just in case something goes wrong, but Rafael’s programming is robust in that regard, and…

He needs to see.

A figure starts to emerge from the glowing lights. Ratchet recognizes Bulkhead’s silhouette first, particularly with the shape of the supply trailer hitched to him. Bulkhead has been making most of the heavier supply deliveries.

There’s another figure next to him, a much sleeker shape that Ratchet recognizes as a Cybertronian alt-mode. If he didn’t know better, he might mistake the form for Wheeljack having given up his Earth mode.

But although the frame is red and white, it has none of the green stripes that distinguish Wheeljack. Ratchet recognizes this frame, too.

There’s a patchy quality to his paint that speaks of recent repairs. Dents, the pucker of scarred weld lines, everything Ratchet spots on Drift’s frame maps a history of damage repaired. Ratchet steps forward and traces each one, energy singing electric along his lines in a way that he knows translates to a deep scowl. He rests his hands on his hips and waits for the two to halt and transform.

Bulkhead does so first. “Hey, Ratch,” he says, still sheepish. Ratchet hardly spares him a glance.

When Drift transforms, it’s…

He looks the same.

There are changes, of course. He’s cybertronian. Of course, he’s changed his frame, through preference or necessity or both, sometime during this Primus-forsaken war. Even with the changes to his paint and some of his outer plating, his faceplates are the same. He’s kept the blue optics. He’s still got that sword, even.

And when he looks at Ratchet, there’s something warm in the glow of his optics.

“Hey, Ratchet,” he says.

Ratchet can’t get his vocalizer to work correctly. Instead, he grunts and nods and steps forward. Vaguely, he is aware of Bulkhead saying something about unloading.

Drift keeps walking towards him. Ratchet can’t look away, can’t do anything to stop him when Drift reaches out and, with a moment of hesitation, takes his hands between his. He feels the contact like a spark in his plating.

“You look… like you’re doing well,” Drift says, but it seems like more of a question than a statement. He’s looking over Ratchet’s hands, searching for signs of wear and tear, of maintenance. He knows that their hands are a medic’s livelihood because Ratchet taught him that so long ago.

Ratchet knows that the hardships of the war’s end are written across his hands, visible to anyone who cares to look.

“You look like you’ve gotten into a few scrapes, yourself,” Ratchet says. It comes out stiff and distant, more than he means it to, and he sees it register with Drift in the way he winces and lowers his optics.

That shakes something loose in him. He’s lived through the war; he’s lost his oldest and dearest friend. If he’s to live on, will he do it alone? Will he push away this one thing that’s come through the war alongside him?

“I’m glad you made it through,” Ratchet says before he can begin to question himself. It’s still gruff, still stiff, but he hopes Drift will see the awkwardness for what it is, this time.

It’s enough to get Drift lifting his helm, his optics bright and vulnerable. “Ratch…”

“Come here,” Ratchet rasps. He grabs Drift by the shoulder, pulls his slighter frame in to wrap arms around him, and Drift goes with the motion, wraps arms around him right back.

He’s trembling, ever so slightly, as he holds on to Ratchet. They stand there, so long that Ratchet loses track, just the two of them, together.

Eventually, Ratchet tunes back into his surroundings to the sound of Bulkhead resetting his vocalizer.

“Sorry, Ratchet,” he says. “I just, uh…”

Ratchet has to reset his vocalizer as well. “I’ll just send you back through the space bridge, shall I?”

“Great,” Bulkhead says. “I’ll talk to you two again later.”

After Bulkhead is gone, things lapse back into silence. Drift lingered close through the process of starting up the space bridge, and while Ratchet had always grouched about clinginess before, now he feels the need for closeness just as acutely. Now that they’re alone, and the initial spell has broken, though, he isn’t quite sure what to do.

He resets his vocalizer (if he does much more of this today, he’s going to break it, he thinks to himself wryly) and turns to Drift. “Well. We can get you settled in. We’ll need to introduce you to the local Earth authorities at some point, but Fowler is due later in the week… and we could get you an alt-mode to scan, unless you’d like to watch the highway for whatever comes along.”

Drift fidgets, glancing away and then back to Ratchet. “Honestly, Ratch,” he says, “I just… want to spend time here, for a while. Talk.”

He reaches out for Ratchet’s hands again. Ratchet lets him. He’s the heavier of the two of them, and Drift couldn’t pull him over if he wanted to, but Ratchet lets him lead. Drift guides them until they’re standing toe to toe, and tips his head up toward Ratchet’s.

Feeling like a magnet, Ratchet tilts his head down until they’re pressed together, forehead and lip plating. It’s awkward but so gentle, and familiar as his own spark. However long Drift meant the kiss to last, it lasts longer, and when they finally draw apart, Drift is smiling. To his chagrin, Ratchet is too, but he can’t find it in himself to squash it.

“Talk, huh?” he says with a chuckle. “All right. We’ll talk.”

#Secret Solenoid 2021 #Secret Solenoid Gift #Fic Gift #Drift #Ratchet #Dratchet

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hellowkatey · 4 years ago

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Febuwhump Day 23

Prompt: “Don’t look”

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence/slave torture

Read on AO3

Oya Manda

While the tally marks on Rex's armor are for his kills, the ones he now marks on the side of his boot are for the days that have passed since he and General Kenobi were taken to Kadavo. Crossing the other four marks with a shaky diagonal line to signify the end of the fifth day isn't as satisfying as another enemy out of the way. He sighs as he sets down the little piece of graphite, letting his head hit the back of the bunk heavily like he's too exhausted to hold it up himself.

Kadavo is a new type of hell. He thought cadet training was hard work but this... this is torture. The older troopers like to whisper about their "slavery to the Republic", but those cushy Captains and Commanders haven't been here. The clones might as well be house pets of the Republic compared to the horrors he's seen at the Zygerrian market.

There is a heavy sigh in the bunk below him, and the clunk of a body falling onto the hard surface all at once. General Kenobi. Rex hasn't seen him all day, so he peers over the side at his Jedi General.

To say General Kenobi looks worse for wear would be a compliment. The man's robes have been all but shredded by the number of whips and beatings he's taken. They're basically red at this point too, caked into his skin by the dried blood. Though Rex hasn't exactly had it easy either, he certainly hasn't gotten the treatment of a Jedi in slave captivity. Slowly, painfully, General Kenobi rolls over, his eyes meeting Rex's in the dim light.

"Hello, Rex," he says softly. He half-expects him to ask him how he's doing, but then again, the general hasn't asked that in two days. It only prompts the same question in return, which he suspects Kenobi doesn't want to answer either.

"General. Where'd they have you today?"

"Rocks," he shifts his body so he's lying on his back, arms folded behind his head as a pillow. "You?"

"Digging."

"Hm." His eyes are already fluttering closed. Manual labor for fourteen hours a day will do that to a person. The draw of sleep is also tugging at the clone captain. He takes one last look at Kenobi.

"Night, sir."

The general in return just hums something incoherent, and Rex lays back on his own bunk.

He's on digging again the next day. Separated from General Kenobi once again. They lead him with a group of Togrutas to their site, and by the crack of a whip slicing through the air, they begin their day. Rex has learned the drill by now: stay quiet, keep working, and keep your head down. He hasn't had a bad beating since the second day with this tactic, and he'd like to stay in as few pieces as possible if he's going to be in fighting shape when they're rescued.

If we ever get rescued.

He pauses, the negative thought settling in and sending a chill down his spine. No, we will get rescued. They will come for us.

Rex knows this. Their mission is to save the Togrutas, and by association, him and the general. But he can see the five tally marks on his boot from where he stands, and he can't deny that it's been a long time since they were taken.

"Back to work!" a Zygerrian guard growls, and Rex raises his eyes to see if he's talking to him-- he is, but as Rex shoves his shovel into the gravel ground, a young girl catches his eye. The Togruta is also assigned to digging duty, but she hardly looks older than the commander! In fact, she looks quite like the commander, her montrals also blue and white, though a darker blue, and her white facial markings make up the majority of her face. What really gets him is when she looks up, obviously feeling someone's eyes on her, and stares at him with these big, round blue eyes. She just... reminds him so much of Tano it brings a knot to his stomach.

Seeing her in that getup at the market was... sickening enough. Through the war, Rex and the others have all but adopted the kid as their own, and to see her playing the part of the slave made his blood boil. Especially since he was playing the part of a slaver.

But to see an actual young Togruta that looks remarkably like their own Jedi... it's too much to take. All he can think about is if that were Tano, and it makes him eager to add more tally marks to his helmet.

"I said," a booming voice cuts through his remembrance of Ahsoka Tano, "back to work!" The crack of a whip snaps crisply in the air and Rex watches the girl flinch. He gets back to digging, but the anger builds in his belly. What is a kid doing out here in the first place?

By lunchtime, which of course, isn't actually lunch for the slaves but for the guards, Rex has ended up next to the Togruta girl as those between them were sent elsewhere. When Rex is confident the guards are too occupied with their food, he leans over slowly.

"Hey kid," he says softly. Even with his care to not startle her, she jumps at the sound of his voice. "You doing alright?"

She peers up at him with hesitant eyes but seeing he too is bound by a collar just as her she nods. "As good as I can."

"Tired?"

"My legs..." she winces. "Exhausted."

He nods, noticing the shake in her thin legs.

"Pick up less gravel in your shovel. I'll be sure to make up for it for you. Just concentrate on staying upright." he says, giving her a sympathetic nod. He isn't sure if she knows this yet, but the guards are not kind to those who collapse of exhaustion. They act as though flogging is a replacement for proper food and rest.

She looks at him uneasily, but nods. "Thank you. I will try."

They continue to work in silence. She does, indeed, pick up smaller loads, and Rex tries to move a little quicker and pick up a little more. He himself has been keeping a steady pace, and the mission of helping her is enough to bring his energy up again.

"What is your name?" he asks after a while. "Mine is Rex."

"Arshee."

"That's a pretty name. How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

She looks much younger, but it could be the sunken cheeks and thin frame.

Rex glances at the guards, who are dealing with someone on the other side of their workspace, and he leans in again. "We're going to get you out of here, Arshee. Help is coming."

"When?" she asks, as though being told help is on the way is something she hears on the daily.

"I-- I don't-- soon."

Arshee just nods, the points of her montrals sagging as she puts her head down to concentrate on digging. Rex sighs. He just wanted to give her hope, but it seems this is no place for that sort of thing.

Then two hours later, despite her best efforts, Arshee's body starts to shake, and she collapses to the ground. Her shovel has not yet toppled over when the guards have grabbed her by the biceps and hoisted her to her knees.

"No, please!" she bellows in terror. "I just fell!"

"You'll learn to rest on the job," one says, twirling around his whip as it powers up. It happens so fast, Rex hardly has time to react to what is happening. He stops working to stare at them in horror as the first lash from the electro-whip makes sickening contact with her back, wrapping around to jab into her ribs. The sight makes him queasy and immeasurably angry. Before he can think it through, he reverses his grip on the shovel, and when the slaver raises his arm to hit her again, Rex jumps between them, pointing his shovel at his face.

"Enough," he says. "She's a kid."

"She's our property."

"Well... so am I."

The Zygerrian's face goes from mild pleasure to a large, sinister smile ear-to-ear.

"Looks like we got ourselves a hero."

He hears a dull thud and the sound of crawling across gravel. Rex can see Arshee sitting on the ground with her arms wrapped around her torso out of his peripheral, her eyes wide with horror. Once again, he sees the commander in her place. Rex is ready to accept the fate of this if it means she will be spared.

The slave driver raises his whip, the string crackling with extra power, and Rex looks over his shoulder at the young Togruta girl.

"Don't look," he whispers, and then he feels the whip snap into his skin, sending searing, white-hot pain through every part of him. The electricity comes next, making every muscle in his body spasm and seize until they feel like they're melting off his bones entirely. There are only a couple seconds between each whip-- a few moments to recover before the progression repeats. His nerves are so strung out, he hardly realizes they have turned him around to work on slashing across his back.

In one of the lulls, he looks over where Arshee landed. Thankfully, she listened to him and is staring off in the opposite direction. He can see the tears dripping from her chin, her arms wrapped so tightly around her midsection it's like she's the only thing holding herself together.

She probably feels guilty that I've taken her beating... and maybe that is the case. But Rex would much rather her be upset with guilt than crying over the pain of torture. He will be sure to reassure her of this when he has the chance.

Rex grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, and he rides out continued assault.

Now Rex is the one that looks worse for wear. As he drags himself back to his bunk, his body still buzzing from the electric shocks, he finds Kenobi sitting on the edge of the bunks already, watching his slow approach. He has a new black eye today, still bright red in some places so it must be fairly recent.

"Rex..." the general says in concerned awe as he sits down next to him. He has no energy to hoist himself up into his own bunk yet. Even sitting, his body sways, and Kenobi puts a stabilizing hand on his back.

"You mind?" Rex asks, holding out the small piece of graphite and stiffly raising his food. General Kenobi eyes the graphite and then his boot before taking it from his hand.

"They'll come," Kenobi says quietly as he places a new tally next to his group of five.

But even the Jedi, ever optimistic, doesn't sound entirely convinced of his own words.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday23 #don't look #kadavo #zygerria #rex #obi-wan kenobi #im very shocked this is my first kadavo fic #but hey at least i gave obi a little bit of a break

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Ducktales Final Four: The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck Review! or The Batman Trial Episode but with Ducks, Sharks, And the Fonz

Hello all you happy people and welcome to the penultimate Ducktales review... for season 3 anyway. I still have most of season 1, all of season 2 (I did cover one but I’ll probably redo it), the tie-in comics, the 87 series, and even then i’ll never really be done with ducks between all the scrooge comics and other duck related shows like Darkwing Duck and Quack Pack. But as far as covering the show as it comes out as i’ve done for the past year, that’s’ts almost done. It’s honestly just starting to hit as I type this: this is the second to last episode. After next week while there’s always fan fiction (And I certainly aim to contribute to that), a possible Darkwing Duck Reboot under frank (though that’s in doubt) where they could show up, and a movie down the road given what we saw with Phienas and Ferb and the show’s popularity it’s still not the same as getting these well animated, well crafted adventures every week with breaks or the ocasional entire week of them. The show won’t go on, and whatever happens with the property next is a mystery no amount of ducks can solve.

So with all that in mind naturally this episode is a breather episode: It’s not unimportant: like the rest of the season it ties off a lot of loose ends, adds in some stuff we didn’t know we wanted, and in general feels necessary like every episode this season. It’s something I credit the season for immensley: They knew this would probably be it so while they had more stories to tell, they made sure if these were their last, to leave no loose ends. And outside of ones they just never wanted to address in the first place like “What happened to Donald’s parents”, “Why was every trace of Della missing despite Scrooge’s search for her having just ended”, and “What did Della thing of the decades long seperation”, they’ve tied up pretty much all of them except for FOWL and what Beakly was lying about, and I feel both are about to ducktail into one another int he finale. Could be wrong but I applaud them for tying off almost every loose end and character arc by this episode that isn’t related to FOWL in some way. Not every show can do that: She Ra was a masterpiece but still had a few things like Scorpia and Catra’s broken relationship, Hordak’s reformation and Adora’s Parents just left up in the air due to time constraints, Steven Universe ONLY got to go back and answer a lot of questions because they were lucky enough to get an epilogue mini series, and Star Vs... was not as good as either show by the end and by the finale about 80% of things it’d brought up all had the following answer:

My point is it’s VERY hard, even when you know the end is coming to tie everything up in a neat bow. And I can’t know how good the finale be or how satsifying it will be but given how well this season’s wrapped everything up so far, i’m betting on immensely. But we can talk about that when it finally comes around next week. For now we have a trial episode to talk about that’s mostly good.. mostly. See why the mostly under the cut as I discuss and recap the episode with full spoilers. Count it down!

We open in the Mansion, where a bunch of tribble like Fuzzy creatures are running amok. Unsuprisingly, Scrooge bought one for Louie as a pet to teach him responsiblity.. again. And once again he instead turned into a get rich quick scheme, didn’t read the manual and now they have an infestation.

ONCE AGAIN, Louie is written like he’s barely changed at all in the past three seasons. Anyone whose been following my reviews regularly knows this has been a pet peeve of mine for the entire season. Despite having an ENTIRE arc about Louie growing as a character and learning the human cost of his scheming and to use his angle seeing talent’s wisely, the writers keep writing him as if he learned nothing. I went back to track it and while not as often as it felt I noticed a few things. The first is that it WASN’T like this for the first half of the season. No really. He even learns brand new lessons in The Trickening and Louie’s Eleven. Granted he also exploits his uncle in Louie’s Eleven but that’s mostly played for laughs.. still not a great bit but not a major part of the episode.

So he was fine for the first act of the season... but then for whatever reason from Let’s Get Dangerous onwards (Again I don’t count the Christmas episode as both of those are meant to slot in anywhere and chronologically take place before this season for the timeline to make any sense), he’s just...

He’s utterly insufferable in his small parts of the first half of Let’s Get Dangerous! as he berates Huey for daring to look a gifthorse int he mouse.. even though everytime he’s seemingly got something for nothing or minimal effort it’s backfired and it’s something that seeemd to stick with “The Richest Duck in the World!”. He’s fine in Impossibin and alright in split sword as while he clearly hadn’t learned lying isn’t the best policy we at least got a good story out of it. He then went right back to obnoxious with New Gods on the Block where he, EPISODES AFTER THE SOLEAGEO FISACO again thinks an easy way out is the right way, and has NO guilt over possibly killing a bunch of people with his gold powers and in fact is disapointed he dosen’t get to keep a living being turned to gold!. He spents all of Fight for Castle McDuck being a huge dick to Huey AGAIN iwth no lesson, and now has yet another family endagering get rich quick scheme he feels no remorse about.

I will admit when I”m wrong and I DID think it was in way more of the season than I thought. And let’s face it in real life personal issues don’t just go away and you can sometimes slide back, i’ve done it way too many times and i’m not proud of it. We’re only human. But this isn’t real life, this is cartoon ducks. And cartoon duck wise most character development has stuck or if a bad trait’s come back it’s been in a new way. Webby is still trusting, but knows how the world works now and while idolizing scrooge dosen’t think he’s perfect anymore. Huey is no longer a skpetic towards the super natural and hasn’t forced a party on anyone. Dewey hasn’t craved other people’s love or thought he needed to earn his mom’s love again. And that’s just the other kids. They aren’t the same people theyw ere going in, neither is Louie. So it’s grating when an episode acts like h’es exactly the same, let alone almost a fifth of the season.

What makes it even worse though is that he had an ENTIRE STORY ARC dedicated to learning some of these lessons already. With the others if one episode were forgotten i’d let it slide as it happens with tv, i’m used to it. It’s not a great look but it happens. Mistakes happen again we’re all human. But you can’t act like an entire arc of a series didn’t exist. While they ignore Della’s history somehow being hidden for the rest of the show they don’t ignore that Dewey spent a whole season looking for her, as he never hides something like that from his brothers again nor do they, and he’s out of them the biggets mama’s boy. While they did take a while to adress Lena, partly because the episode got pushed back, they didn’t act like season 1 never happened and she was still working for her aunt. Della still isn’t on the moon and Owlson still isn’t working for glomgold. Actions. Have. Consequences. That’s the whole point of this episode, but they act like none of it got through to louie and it makes his arc feel like a giant waste in hindsight. This episode even feels like it was SUPPOSED to be in that arc: Louie is back to his season 2 characterization, Scrooge is actively trying to mentor him again.. it just feels really out of place as our second to last episode in that way and drags it down a bit.

Thankfully after Scrooge bars the door, and possibly leaves everyone to their deaths but he presumably has enough faith in the kids, the twins and Beakley to take care of it, he gets a summons to court.. and gets kidnapped. He and Louie are whisked away to a mystic court presided over by a giant statue of justice holding scales, that judges someone based on Karma. Scrooge’s foes have brought him to court, blaming him for being evil and if he looses he looses EVERYTHING. And their proscutor?

Sadly not Droopy, maybe next continuity, but searing the same Hannibal-Esque Getup is Doofus Drake to Louie’s horror. As for why he’s like this.. he thought iht was fun. Great gag.

After the credits we find out why he’s doing this: He’s still pissed about Louie taking half his inheritance and giving it to his family, so he’s going to take LOUIE’S inheritance. It’s.. honestly a great setup: Doofus was already a villian I liked, being a nice weird evil mirror dewey instead of a walking fat joke like last series. So I was glad to both see him pop up one last time to make it a full trilogy of apperances as an angonist and to see him take a step up from his passive roll in the past: in his first two apperances while he was evil and abusive, and still is, his evil was mostly due to his own warped logic, feeling he could put shock collars on and control people and that Louie lying to him was enough to warrant making him into a pinata. He’s still a bad person mind you: kid or not he ensdlaved his parents, tried to enslave louie and goldie and in general REALLY needs some help empathizing with people. But my point is that before he didn’t come after anyone.. so it’s a nice capper to have his final turn as antaognist be him going after our hero.. and at his most dangerous. Before someone would’ve come for Louie eventually in Doofus’ first apperance and Goldie would’ve found a way out or Scrooge, despite grumbling about it, would’ve helped.. if nothing else than to lord having to save her from a 12 year old over her. Here if he wins the family is out on the street and three of their greatest enemies are now infinitely more well funded.

So while naturally unnerved by his rival Louie offers to defend Scrooge who denies it despite the fact that Louie is REALLY good with words, and Scrooge, while not bad with them, can’t stop shouting and keeps pissing off the baliff, played by my boy Henry Winkler whose done a lot of voice work and also played Fonzie on Happy Days, is currently on the HBO series barry and in general is just a fucking delight. The irony is also not lost on me that he’s not playing a lawyer here despite being one on arrested development.

We get our first witness: FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD. Hell. Yes. It’s nice to see him in his full glory one last time, as I don’t know how much he’ll be in the finale. Scrooge blows of the Duke Baloney thing, which is fair given that while Scrooge screwed up there, Glomgold still stole money from him right after and then spent his whole life trying to one up him. But Glomgold has a different tale in mind as he stole something else from him: the limelight.

It was 1980-something and Glomgold was a bonified celebrity in Duckberg for his hot dogging, grandstanding and treasure hunting loved by all and took Baba Wawa, a nice mix of Barbra Walters and the parody of her on SNL by the late Gilda Radner, to a shark shaped cave to get the gem of the shark god, a ruby tooth at the end of the cave. Naturally Scrooge popped up and easily made his way through and stole the spotlight. As it turns out he wasn’t always well loved and it makes sense: he dismises Baba asking him about how disliked he is, and dosen’t care and even in the current story, or rather season 1 of it, he dismiseed PR entirely in Jaw$. He was rich enough and enough of a job provider he just didn’t see the need for fame or glory, that just came second so it’s logical no one liked him. Fortunes naturally reverse as you’d expect though: Glomgold dashes forward and ends up putting Baba and her camerabird in danger and being Glomgold he irrationally assumes she’s working for Scrooge and leaves her to die. Scrooge however, after getting the rock, goes out of his way to save her because it’s the right thing to do. He can be selfish at times, and as we’ll see monstrously so, but at his core Scrogoe is a good man who will do right when the chips are down. So this leaves Glomgold trapped and Scrogoe getting his good press instead and realizes he likes the attention.

As the flashback ends Glomgold fills in the gaps, pointing out he was stuck with the sharks for days, but slowly bonded with them learned from them and they became family, helping him with traps, joining him for thanksgiving and even getting a heart taatoo with a shark on it. Awww. Look I didn’t really need to know where Glomgold’s love of sharks came from, nor that he had some weird tarzan origin story with them.. but my life is 100% better knowing all of this so thank you Frank and Matt. Thank you. I’m also entirely convinced the two have had this whole part of his backstory ready to go for three seasons and were waiting to use it, along with the other two bits we’re about to get to. This episode as you can tell is also a vingette episode, but one where the wraparound is way more improtant than usual.. but it works given the setting and allows the stories to be as long as they actually need to be, and it addds some nice stakes instead of just having Scrooge’s villians gripe about him.

Scrooge protests and the Bailiff puts a clamp on his beak, so he has no choice in the matter when Louie steps up for the defense. Louie also proves that irresponsible he may be.. he’d be a damn good lawyer, as he easily picks things apart, pointing out Glomgold was ALREADY bad by then, Scrooge had no intent to steal the spotlight and Glomgold is currently planting dynamite under his chair, with predictable and hilarious results. So he gets put on the “good” side of the scale. Next witness.

Next up is Ma, and I was delighted that as I’d hoped and theroized this episode wrapped up one little plot point that while not major, was something I was curious about: Ma’s claims Scrooge stole Duckburg from her family. This was also likely the backbone of the episode at one point as Frank pitched a beagle trial episode at one time, but Disney nixed it. Likely the magic stuff was added both to justify it better and to distract Disney Channel’s higher ups because they constantly underestimate what a child will like. It was for the best though as the beagles are just a bit weaker here: While Character Actress Margo Martindale is a delight and was specifically cast for the role, overall it just feels like they ran out of ways to make the beagles a big threat and releigated them to muscle when needed, to the point they only appeared in one episode besides this one this season as with FOWL about, they didn’t really need villians of the week and what ones they did use like Glomgold and Mark were far more entertaining villains who needed a coda to their stories.They aren’t bad characters, but in a series where their breaking into the bin or mansion wasn’t a story the crew was interested in they served no real purpose.

So we finally get answers about the whole Deed thing: It was sometime in Ma’s childhood, good look guessing when, and the Beagles owned Duckburg having clearly overwhelmed Fort Duckburg at some point in history between Clinton’s defense of it and now, with Grandpa “Pa” Beagle finally making an apperance. In the comics he was basically what Ma is to both series: the scheming brains behind the beagles who showed up on occasion and it was a good idea to use him as the past version of her.

Scrooge naturally comes a calling and unsurprisingly Ma was lying: Scrooge offered to buy the place first from Pa, he refused outright, and then when Scrooge showed off the money he was offering, Pa bet the deed for it in an arm wrestling contest. Not only that but as Scrooge finds out as he almost looses, Pa was cheating having a smaller beagle boy operate pull a lever in a device attached to his arm to give pa extra force. Scroooge simply dropped a few coins to distract the guy and claimed victory and the deed.

Little Ma is left dejected though and Doofus claims he ruined his life, but Louie steps up, at this poitn Scrooge has learned to reign himself ina nd accepted Louie as his defense without saying anything, a nice subtle bit. He probably realized that while irrepsonsible.. Louie has everything to loose her and no reason to slack off and dosen’t even relaly have to lie for his uncle to get him off: he’s simply using his ablitiy to see all the angles to poke holes in their story.

Case in point, he orders the “tape” to continue and finds Little Ma berating her dad for his failure and forcefully taking control of the family. LIke Glomgold, Scrooge may of cost her something.. but it was something she and her family hadn’t earned and they were still on a bad road. Scrooge just made it worse.

But suprisingly, its MAGICA, who we’ve established is an uncaring monster, who has a story Scrooge genuinely feels bad about. Like the rest she was not a good person: Long ago she and her brother Poe were extorting a villiage, and lording over it as gods, changing the population into goats, toads and other things. The only diffrence from what Magica would do to the blot and presumiibly others later, is that Poe reigned in her manical tend ices, trying to get her to think things through. The goat transformation was so they’d have milk and at least get something out of it and as to not waste all their slaves. Poe is voiced by Martin Freeman of The Hobbit and Black Panther fame. Great actor, does amazing work here. So like the others Scrooge changed things, and fought someone with bad intentions for his own self. He talked Magica into fighting him with both amulets by playing into her ego and Poe trying to talk her down, and easily deflected her bolt with the dime to turn her into a crow with her own spell. So far it’s just like the other tales in a nice mirror.. it’s what comes next that makes Scrooge into a bad guy too. Not as bad as Magica and Poe.. but sitll not good. Poe dives selflessly in front of the coin.. and shockingly while she cared nothing for Lena.. that wasn’t the case for Poe. Magica is truly devastated, desperatly trying to put the amulet back on and begging scrooge for help while he just ignores her and fills up his sack. And while they both deserved it... Scrooge and Louie both recognize he was wrong as the flashback ends with Poe escaping and Magica sitll haven’t having found him to this day. And props to Catharine Tate here a she takes a normally hammy terrible person who was wholly unsympathetic and manages to make her painfully human.

What makes the act so terrible is not who it happened to, they both desrved it, but Scrooge’s attitude, utterly callous to magica’s pain with not a drop of sympathy. While she deserved it as did Poe.. he’s not doing this to her as some justice for her crimes, or because she did something horrible to him or any valid reason.. he’s doing it because he’d rather get more of her and poes gold than lift one finger to help someone who had , for all his evil, selflessly sacrificed himself for his sister. For all Poe’s evil and tyranny.. there MIGHT of been a good man in them, in both of them.. and Scrooge could’ve cared less. He shut the door on Magica ever becoming a good person, ever getting her brother back to line his own wallet and to satisfy his own ego. See that’s the true mark of a hero: how they treat others, even the worst of them. And in his lowest moment Scrooge could’ve cared less about anyone but himself.

Scrooge feels bad and Louie does finally get the responsibility thing and this is where things start to go off the rails: he apologizes to Doofus and admits he dosen’t want an enteral rivalry and h’es sorry for any pain he caused. The off the rails part is because Doofus is genuinely not a good person, ahs done very bad things and is trying to bankrupt Louie for the crime of “taking half your fortune after you used it to torment and enslave your own parents’. It just.. dosen’t play as well as they’d like. That said I DO like both Louie deciding to bury the hatchet instead of just avoiding him and Doofus showing some nobiity in accepting it. Maybe he’ll change.

He goes off into the night, and Scrooge genuinely apologizes and accepts repsonsiblity... and here’s where the plot finishing going off the rails and into someone’s living room: the bailiff AWARDS THEM SCROOGE’S FORTUNE BECAUSE HE ADMITTED SOME CUPLABLITY AND WAS HUMBLE.

This just.. it makes no sense, it will never not baffle me and it hurts my brain> Yes he admitted some wrong doing and apologized for it.. but it was also THROUGHLY proven the other two weren’t his fault, and he was simply being a good man which should get him some good. Thankfully the conclusion is a bit better, as Louie points out while they made him, he made you so who made who, who made you... okay i’m getting into the AC/DC of things point is these incidents all shaped Scrooge into a better person. His mistake with Magica. is clearly learned from. He’s stopping a group of bullies in Ma’s story and saving a life without a second thought in the second. He learned to value others, to value family all because THEY showed him what happens when you don’t. By seeing the worst person he could be.. he became the best. So the trial’s thrown out his assets are returned, and their teleported out before magica can hit them with lighting. Lesson learned.. well kinda Louie tells scrooge to do it because he got the pet.

Final Thoughts for The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck:

Great title aside.. this one is a mess. It’s not a terrible episode: the flashbacks are genuinely engaging, each one helping flesh out the villians and in Ma’s case pulling one last dangling plot thread. Glomgold’s was just entertaining , clevelry using his 80′s origns for an 80′s style news special and giving us the origin to his love of sharks that we didn’t know we needed., Ma’s tied up a loose plot threat with a fun flashback and Magica’s was genuinely heart wrenching and did the tall task of making us feel for someone that terrible. The wraparound.. was a bit weaker. Doofus was the best part, playing an excellent manipulative bastard lawyer, and being a genuine threat and his walking away peacefully was a nice touch, and Louie having to defend scrooge was great and showed him off better than ever. And Louie did get some moments to shine.. it was just wierldy bookened with him acting terribly AGAIN, in a way he should know better than in an episode where he acts fine for most of it and even then he thinks lying to a judge is a good idea! I know he’s 12 but he’s not this stupid and while as I made very clear i’ve seen this shit before, I haven’t seen it flip flop in the same episode. Louie deserves better than this.

But it’s also in service to a responsiblility aseop that just.. dosen’t work as presented. Yes you should take responsiblity for your past, yes you should learn from your mistakes and own up to them, I have, and yes it’s all too easy to slide back> That’s all fine.. but him apologizing to Ma, whose family was terorrizing a town, and Glomgold, who he did nothing to, and having Louie apologize to Doofus, who while he tried to exploit him still enslaved his own parents and deserved to loose half his fortune AND loosing half his fortune wasn’t even the main thing Louie wanted to do as his main goal was getting BOYD a loving family.. it’s bullshit. Just pure Grade-A bullshit. Why are you booing them their right. It’s a good idea for a moral but it’s executed so overwhelmingly poorly it bogs down what was otherwise an exceptional episode, into just passable. It’s just mind numbing and saddening to know the next to last episode wasted so much good ideas on a clumsy moral. Thankfully I have hope the finale will be better, and again at least we got some good out of this one.

Next Time: Endgame Baby! Clan McDuck and their Amazing Friends Vs F.O.W.L. for the fate of adventure itself! One last ride! I can hardly wait!

This week on the blog: Ducks Ducks and more ducks.. and a top 12 list of my faviorite superheroines later today’s for international women’s day. But after that we have more of the Della arc, the last step in the Lena arc before Shadow War next week, and the 87 ducktales pilot treasure of the golden suns!

If you liked this review, share it around, follow for more, and you can comission your own for 5 dolalrs an issue or episode, or kick in some money on my patroen, link on my blog. Even a dollar a month helps and my next stretch goal is 5 dollars away and if we reach it i’ll review both the super ducktales mini series introducing gizmoduck AND a darkwing duck episode a month. Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure.

#ducktales #the life and crimes of scrooge mcduck #scrooge mcduck #louie duck #doofus drake #magica de spell #poe de spell #FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD #ma beagle #the beagle boys #disney channel #disney #ducks #uncle scrooge

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charlettebffxiv · 3 years ago

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Prompt #17 Destruct

“So, what happens when you can’t keep one?” Maxim stood with his hands on the handle of his rake, the pile of leaves they had been collecting having grown almost as tall as him. Autumn was arriving, and with it the leaves had started to tumble. Willow’s Heart, like most Gridanian-esque villages, was lined with trees all throughout the winding roads and flanking forest. Which meant, plenty of mulch to be found for the Greenhouse, and other projects, and lots and lots of leaves, seeds and nuts to trip, slip and fall into. Charlette had just finished raking a fine mess of them up to the second mountain they had built so far, looking up at Maxim as she wrestled it along. “What? You mean an aberration? Depends on what kind, really. They come in different forms. Enchanted items, crystals, magitek devices, aberrant creatures, ‘afflicted’ or ‘affected’ people.” One of Maxim’s white-blond eyebrows lifted, you could barely see it was there against his pale skin. “What’s the difference between ‘afflicted’ and ‘affected?” turning her rake over, and using it to scoop up the leaves, Charlette dumped them atop the pile, watching plenty scatter back down anyway. “It is simple, really. One is always a victim, the other’s condition was intentional.” Maxim walked around their autumn monument, cleaning up the edges, every leaf swept into it. Neat, orderly, Charlette approved of his technique. “So, like, if someone experimented on me and gave me, say, webbed feet and fingers against my will? That’s afflicted?” Charlette nodded “And if you intentionally experimented with forbidden magics to give yourself webbed fingers and toes, you would be affected. Not the words I would have chosen, but I didn’t write the manuals.”

“Alright, well then, what happens with all of those, if you can’t keep it? Say it’s just too dangerous, like it explodes if you sneeze too close to it.” Bobocufu’s Apprentice Botanist Dylan had pulled his chocobo cart round to their side, and the both of them were hauling their collection into the back of it as they spoke. Pitch forks swung back and forth, their rhythm quite in-sync. Their words were a little wheezy from the effort. “Well, enhanced items can sometimes be destroyed on sight. That is a common one when the item is too big, or too dangerous to transport. They teach a few useful techniques for it, depending on your team composition and specialty. Guardians, like me, learn how to neutralize aether in small areas, but with time and chance, we can completely neutralize an object. Revert it back to being just a bowl or knife or whatever it is. Same with crystals.'' Their work was finished quickly, Charlette and Maxim waving to Dylan as he nudged the chocobo into action and took away a twelvemoon’s supply of mulch. “And if you don’t have a Guardian? What then?” Charlette was not sure if she should be telling Maxim this, then again he is a Willow’s Heart native. Born and bred here. His family must know nearly everything by now, might as well help him along. “If you are an Arcanist of the Order, you may know a similar technique as Guardians, but more concentrated. Usually disposal falls to the Arcanists, so they are the most prepared for it. If this fails though, there is always option number two: destroy it.” Now Maxim was focused, the man having a somewhat worrying delight towards explosives and anything else capable of creating fire. “Arcanists can manage magic strong enough to melt metal, turn entire houses into ashes, burn trees to the ground, freeze constructs and shatter them to pieces. There is a wealth of options for them. If you are a trained Agent of the Order, you generally will know how to make some explosives. A large bomb is an effective ‘neutralizing’ method as well.” Maxim nodded, like he was agreeing with Charlette. She supposed this was a subject that at least he could be about as correct as she would. “What about creatures and people?” It was here that Charlette went quiet, just packing away their tools into their own cart. Hauling herself up into the driver’s seat, Maxim sitting next to her and taking the reins and getting the bo moving. Seems he was patient this sun. The cart trundled down the road, leaves shivering about in the back. Maxim finally turned to Charlette, nudging her with his elbow “Well? That’s long enough. Give up the gory details, do you have giant mouse traps for oversized, aberrant rodents?” That thought was a little horrifying “No, though that would be funny, and horrible. Can you imagine the clean-up for such a thing? Ugh.” She gave a short shiver. Maxim having evoked some all too similar memories of missions passed “With creatures it can sometimes be much the same, though if you use any kind of neutralizing techniques that involve stopping or removing their aether, they generally die. And it is not a pleasant thing to witness or inflict on anything living. It is slow, and they panic, slowly get more and more tired and weaker, they stop trying to run after a little while. Then they just lay down, and die.” Maxim’s brows had furrowed, and his mouth was in a comically deep frown, creasing his cheeks and chin. “That’s grim Charlette, you’ve ruined my good mood.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, then you should not have asked. I find I prefer a bomb, or pyrotechnics that do not waste time and get it over with immediately, but it is not always an option. Aberrations can be incredibly resistant, by design or by adaptation. Sometimes taking the aether is the only way you can harm them. The hardest part is simply that it is not their fault. Never, not when it is a beastkin, or vilekin, or any kin that is not, well us.” Her driving companion needed a little moment to think that through. The differences between their experiences showing a little in his moment of thought. His life in the village and surrounding forest was not devoid of violence, but certainly lacked in the kind Charlette had seen, and had to be a part of. Cruel pragmatism in the face of Conservationist Optimism. It was a strange pairing. “I suppose I can get it. Nature is cruel like that too, sometimes. There’s usually a sense to it though, a reason but without a selfish designer, you know? No insane Arcanist, or deranged Thaumaturge behind it all. No corrupt Conjurer or tempered Mage. Just The Shroud, the forest, keeping itself as it is.” Charlette’s shoulder bumped into his, but not from the sway of the cart. “You sound morose Maxim. Let’s talk about something else.” He looked at her and shook his head “Nah, I’m fine. Just one more thing to go anyway, what happens with the people?” She was hoping to avoid this one. Their arrival at the Greenhouse gave her a precious moment of distraction as they prepared to unload. Leaves hauled into the compost, Chocobo released from the cart and walked back to the stables and their tools set in the shed. Both of them pulled off their overalls and scrubbed the dirt from their arms and faces at the water trough. “People are the hardest part.” Maxim was tying back his long, now slightly damp hair into the tail he usually wore it in, Charlette’s words catching him with a little surprise “What? Oh, yeah. I mean, I thought they would be. Stuff is just stuff, and I guess we’ve all seen animals getting the short end of the stick at some point. What makes it so hard?” Charlette knelt over the trough, running her arm under the tap as water poured out, scrubbing from wrist to shoulder. “That it is never obvious what you need to do. If they are too dangerous to allow to be free, but can be contained, they are. Usually by local authorities if they are capable of doing so, or by us if it is an extreme case. No, I’m not telling you where or how.” That was an actual secret, and she also didn’t think he was ready to know about the stasis process. Few people are, she wasn't when she learned how to do it. “But if they are too dangerous to be contained, or allowed free again, and if they do not self-destruct in the encounter. Well, we kill them. In much the same way as the creatures.” Maxim was moving a little slower now, his thoughts taking precedence on his focus “That’s rather harsh, don’t you think? Afflicted and affected alike?” Charlette nodded, finally more or less clean, and pulled her shirt over her head. “There’s generally no choice when it comes down to that, they often force our hand, whether they meant to or not. It just needs to be done, despite it being a desperately unfortunate situation, it needs to happen. So we do it.” She turned around, her top needing a few laces tied at the back, which Maxim attends to easily. He’s quite nimble with his long fingers. “I’m sorry you have to.” “I am not. It’s a good purpose to have.” “So is Botany, you know. Making life, and you still get to end some if that’s all you’re after.” Once finished he pats her on the shoulder, both of them looking a sight better than before. She does need to wipe a soil stain from Maxim’s nose though, which she does so with spit and a hard rub of her thumb, to his annoyance. “I know. It is partly why I am not rushing them about the hearing. I have… rather enjoyed helping things live, instead of destroying them, for a change.” He was still wiping at his nose with a sleeve, making it look extra red against his pallor. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome to hang around as long as you want. I’m gonna miss you when you’re back to murdering for the good of us all.” “Please don’t call it that.” “Sorry. Fixing things? Sounds a bit better. Like you’re an engineer.” he winked, Charlette gave him what he wanted and rolled her eyes again, with a big sigh, then started walking back home. Maxim ran to catch-up with her. She liked that though, being a ‘fixer’. She had never thought of it that way, and you know what? It helped, with that sadness that hangs around it all.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv rp #ffxiv writing #elezen #duskwight

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

Text

You can STAY- Part Three

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (side pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Language

Genre: Fantasy AU; Scarlet Heart AU; OT8 SKZ

Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two

Summary: Y/N has another unexpected confrontation with Prince Felix. But he’s also not her biggest problem, especially when she uncovers a potentially devastating plot that could completely unravel the royal hierarchy.

Taglist: @angelphantomlove @moonlightracha @staycarat0801 @jjabbur @pinkchcn @smolchild-lol @straykidbaby @moonnstars90 @choisaemi @dru-shadow @skzooyeet

It was still early that morning when I woke-up to the sound of someone knocking on the door to my bedroom. For a moment, I was too disoriented to respond, but the sound grew louder with the force of whoever was insistent about coming inside. Finally, I gave in and walked over to answer the door with a nonchalance that I’m sure reflected my drowsiness.

“Jeongin?” I questioned, surprised to see the younger standing on the other side.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, and it was a timid greeting as he shuffled anxiously in the doorway.

“Did you need something?” I asked, wondering why one of the King’s sons had went out of his way to visit me in my small dungeon bedroom.

“I, uh, wanted to make sure you weren’t busy today,” Jeongin said. “I'd like to visit the market again and try to sell my paintings.”

The request took me off-guard, and I didn’t know which I was more surprised to hear: that Jeongin wanted me to accompany him, or that the King’s youngest son made trips to the market to sell his artwork like he didn’t already have enough money. “I guess I can go with you,” I said.

“It’s mostly for protection,” Jeongin said. “Cuz’ of your powers and stuff...”

I grinned at his awkward conversation because it was strangely adorable to hear him stumble over his request. “I’d love to, Jeongin,” I said. “Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you outside on the bridge.”

Jeongin nodded in agreement and I gently closed the door to prepare myself for an impromptu trip into town.

It certainly sounded like a better prospect than resigning myself to another day of medicinal experimentation - searching for the cure that would alleviate Ella’s suffering. Ever since my encounter with Chan’s wife, I had been relentlessly searching my manuals and the records kept neatly arranged in the Castle’s library. However, despite my efforts, I was no closer to finding the answers than I had been during our first meeting.

Yet, I could never give-up on something that might help someone else in need, so I maintained my confidence that I just needed to look harder. But one day out of the confines of my bedroom couldn’t possibly hurt, especially since I had experienced an excruciating headache during the previous night after spending all afternoon hunched over my desk.

I nodded in self-determination, swiping my brush through my hair one more time before I left my room, walking upstairs alone with the company of my thoughts as I tried to focus on the task at hand. If Jeongin trusted me enough for protection, then I would do my best not to disappoint him. I had worked hard to fine-tune my powers for any case that might arise while I served the royal family, and I considered my fighting skills to be an enormous source of pride.

“You should feel privileged to walk so freely without care.”

I paused at the top of the staircase at the sound of an all-too familiar voice, and I frowned when Felix came into view while wearing an arrogant smile. “Forgive me, miss,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction.”

“Then what do you consider our last meeting?” I asked him. “If I recall correctly, you insinuated that I would bring ruin to this Castle.”

“Of course not,” Felix said. “It was rather premature of me to base my opinion on a foolish disagreement with Seungmin.”

“I agree,” I said, keeping my tone neutral as I watched him come even closer. “Do you not believe such things anymore?”

“I find you perfectly elegant, Y/N,” Felix said. “You seem to prioritize your morals above everything else, and I can sense a profound loyalty for my family despite only just arriving a few nights ago.”

“Not so much your family,” I corrected him. “I serve the kingdom, and that means honoring those who lead it.”

“How righteous,” Felix said. “Consider me impressed by your character.”

“I wish I could the say the same,” I said, and I was pleased when Felix’s smile vanished.

“Have I done something to offend you?” Felix asked. “I apologized for my actions. Please don’t tell me that you intend to hold a grudge?”

“Consider it more of a casual suspicion,” I said, watching his green eyes narrow. “I’ve learned a lot about you since my arrival.”

“Is that so?” Felix asked, and I could tell that he was not appreciative of my comment.

I nodded as I remembered my conversation with Chan on the same afternoon when I met his wife - how he willingly opened up to me about his red-haired brother in exchange for a tentative promise to help his wife.

“I know that you aren’t wanted here,” I said. “I was told that your own mother tried to kill you when you were merely a child.”

“Where did you hear this?” Felix asked, but his tone wasn’t angry like I had been expecting; instead, he seemed unusually morose while he looked at me with sad green eyes.

“Does it matter?” I asked him. “How else should I look upon someone whose own father hated him so much that he sent him away to another kingdom?”

My words triggered a brief silence between us, and it seemed like they had a great affect on Felix, but I was still stunned when he reached out to grab my wrist - directing my hand over his heart. “Do you feel that?” he asked, and I slowly nodded. “I’m human, Y/N,” he continued. “This opinion you have of me matters because it’s made you forget that I’m flesh and blood like you. And I expected someone with your moral integrity to know better than to treat an equal as lesser, or to believe nasty rumors without understanding the whole story.”

I could feel my mouth fall open in shock, and I looked at Felix for the first time without a single ounce of judgment. But I still couldn’t help but remain stuck on one word in particular: “Equal,” I repeated.

“Do you not consider that accurate?” Felix asked. “As far as I’m concerned, we both live and breath and share the same experiences. And to address your other offense against me, I’d like you to understand that my mother is a wicked woman who has always favored her eldest son. She held him to the utmost regard while I was nothing but a mistake that she always regretted...Yes, my mother did try to kill me, but it wasn’t out of a sense of righteousness to rid this world of a perceived evil. And when she wasn’t successful, she gave me this scar that I hide from the rest of the world.”

I swallowed hard when Felix removed the black mask obscuring the left side of his face to reveal a diagonal line of jagged edges. “In actuality, she would’ve done anything to ensure that Chan had no competition to stand in his way of the throne. But look at how well that worked out for them both. Chan decided to marry a peasant girl and defy our father, and he deserves his lowered status because he needs to finally understand that his actions have consequences that can last for a lifetime.”

He finished his tirade with a heavy exhale before securing his mask back into place. “Look at us, Y/N. We’ve both decreed presumptive judgments of one another, and they’re entirely inaccurate.” He then lowered his gaze when he infiltrated my personal space - far closer than what might be considered appropriate. “Forgive me for all that I’ve done that forced you to seek these lies. Perhaps in the future, we can hold a civil conversation together.”

I closed my eyes, reeling from the onslaught of his confession. “Why are so insistent on defending these perceptions, Felix?”

“Because you came here with no outside bias against me,” Felix replied. “I refuse to see these royals feed you misinformation just for you to turn against me as well.”

“I suppose it almost worked,” I said. “But I’m still confused after listening to an entirely different side.”

“It’s my side,” Felix insisted. “Seek the truth for yourself, but keep in mind that the people in this Castle are all looking out for their best interests.”

“Aren’t you doing the same?”

“Yes, but you’ll hopefully come to find that I never speak untruths,” he said. “My mother is an insane liar, and her clever tongue managed to keep Chan in this castle after his marriage, even though the king decided to deny him the opportunity to take the throne. I’ve seen her behave this way for my entire life, and I once vowed to never be anything like her.”

He finally stepped away, and I was able to inhale without restriction. His grin returned as he observed me. “Despite what you’re thinking, my return to the castle was not predicated on ill-conceived intentions. There’s no reason to doubt me, Y/N, and for the record, I’d like you to know that you’ve fascinated me from the moment I saw you at the choosing ceremony.”

His final declaration rendered me speechless, and I found myself trembling when he offered me a discreet wink before returning in the direction from which he had arrived.

By the time the sun was at its highest point in the sky, Jeongin and I were carefully walking around the outskirts of the market - searching for the perfect place to set up his paintings. “I do this all the time,” Jeongin reassured me with a cute smile that was impossible to deny.

“Okay,” I agreed, admiring the usual bustle of the market as eager patrons searched for the best prices on the goods they required.

“Over there,” Jeongin suggested, pointing to an empty stall, and I followed him with a selection of his paintings secured under my arm. “Let’s organize them,” Jeongin said, and I carefully followed his instructions while also admiring the beautiful creations that he had crafted.

“These are gorgeous,” I said, and he brightened at the compliment.

“Really?”

“Of course,” I said, tracing my fingertips across the texture of an oil painting. “They look so real.”

“My mother thinks it’s a waste of time,” Jeongin scoffed, gaze hardening for a moment as he stepped back to admire our efforts.

“I think it’s creative,” I said. “It makes you stand out from the others.”

“Exactly,” Jeongin agreed. “Everyone else already has something that makes them unique, and I wanted my own thing.”

“Well, you certainly found it,” I said, pausing when I noticed an elderly woman approaching our collection.

“How much for this one?” she inquired, indicating a rather gorgeous recreation of the surrounding mountain range.

While Jeongin started negotiations, I took my time perusing the remaining pieces that he had brought with him. I could tell that he had put his heart and soul into faithful adaptations of the most random subject matter: everything from scenic portraits to little drawings of his family members. It was a fascinating dynamic to his character, and I wondered how long the prince had been painting because these looked far too advanced considering his young age.

“Are you serious!?” a hostile voice growled, interrupting my musings with a tone that alerted me to possibility of an impending confrontation.

“What’s going on?” I asked, coming to stand next to a fuming Jeongin as he glared at the man who was holding one of his paintings.

“This little brat thinks he can swindle me out of my money!” the man said. “The cost of this shit is worth more than my house!”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d reconsider the price,” I said, stepping closer when I sensed an opportunity to appease the tension.

“I won’t!” Jeongin declared. “That piece is incredibly valuable!”

“Of course, the bastard thinks that his royal blood makes everything he touches turn to gold.”

“That’s enough,” I said, lowering my tone. “You can look elsewhere if you can’t afford his price.”

“For your information, bitch, I’m looking in exactly the right place,” the man said, and I noticed him reaching for the sword secured at his side.

I took a deep breath when I noticed that the men he had traveled with were also advancing on the two of us - raising their own weapons into the air. I narrowed my eyes and willed their swords to fly out of their hands - shocking both of his partners. “You might want to reconsider your stance,” I said to the first man, but his accompanying smirk caught me off-guard - like he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest by my magic.

“Maybe you need a lesson in manners too,” the man said, and I could barely formulate a response before I heard Jeongin shriek my name while a pair of arms wrapped around my waist. I could feel the breath escape my lungs, and then there was a hand over my eyes, preventing me from seeing what was happening, and I started thrashing around in the limbs holding me hostage. “Let me gut this stupid girl first,” the man said, and I could hear Jeongin calling for help as the sharp point of a sword teased the side of my throat.

But the man never followed through on his promise, and I only realized a moment later that he had been compromised when I fell to the ground with a grunt. My hand went to my throat because I could still feel the phantom effects of the sword’s blade, and my eyes blinked rapidly as I saw two figures standing at the front of our stall - waving their swords with impressive skill and growling out insults. Apparently, Jeongin’s call for help had actually been answered, and I was relieved to see both Prince Chan and Prince Felix warding off the opposition.

“Your business here is done,” Felix said, appearing nothing short of intimidating with his mask and sword.

“They should be so lucky,” the first man snarled, but he knew better than to continue a fight that he was destined to lose.

I watched him walk away before I realized that Felix and Chan were both hovering over me with matching expressions of concern. “Y/N?” Chan asked with a gentle tone.

“Thank you,” I managed to respond, flushing when I noticed that both Felix and Chan had outstretched their hands for me to take. But instead of forcing myself to make that decision, I rose at my own autonomy, glaring at Felix when he chuckled.

“They might not be so lucky next time,” one of the men called back, and he must’ve still been riding the waves of adrenaline when he chanced a step back in our direction.

“Get the hell out of here,” Chan snapped at the burly man who had helped attack us, and he grumbled in complaint but obeyed nonetheless. “Y/N,” Chan repeated, shoving Felix out of the way as he came closer. “Are you okay?”

I nodded while Felix scoffed. “What the hell were the two of you doing causing trouble like that?”

“We weren’t causing trouble,” I said, and Felix smirked.

“Good,” he said in response. “After our conversation earlier, I would hate to discover that you had lied to me, Y/N.”

Chan frowned at that - glancing between me and Felix with a curious expression. “Let’s just get everyone back to the castle,” he said, and I agreed with one last glare in Felix’s direction.

The next morning, Anna woke me up early with a bright smile. “Good news,” she said, starting for my wardrobe. “The King has requested your presence at the tea ceremony today! They’re honoring Minho for his selection.”

I groaned around the exhaustion holding me captive. “Is this a request or a demand?”

Anna hesitated as she laid a dress across my bed. “Well, I wouldn’t ignore the King.”

“Of course,” I said, forcing myself to abandon the comforts of my mattress. “When will it take place?”

“This afternoon,” Anna said. “You should hurry and get dressed.”

I nodded quietly in easy compliance, watching Anna leave me to my own volition as I forced myself to put on the dress that she had left behind for me. It was fairly modest, but the sleeves had a very delicate lace lining them. I also spent a few moments in front of the mirror to check my appearance, which I never normally allowed, before I left my room to walk upstairs.

It was suspiciously quiet in the corridors, and I found it strange because I remembered that the King’s wives lived in this area of the Castle. But it was pointless to assume anything, and perhaps they were already waiting at the ceremony with their sons.

However, my senses went on high alert when I heard two voices intermingling towards the end of the passage, and I pinpointed the noise coming from a single bedroom. Subsequently, I paused outside the room, glancing through the space between the door and the entryway to see Changbin and Queen Seo speaking together in low voices.

“You’ll be next to the King,” Queen Seo said, and she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she examined Changbin’s outfit. “Do you remember the plan?”

“Of course,” Changbin replied. “I shall look for the handmaiden.”

“I’ll have her deliver the tea,” Queen Seo explained. “Once Minho drinks it...” She trailed off with a maniacal grin, reaching out to adjust Changbin’s hanbok. “My son looks so handsome,” she remarked. “Like a true leader.”

Changbin sneered at her words. “He thinks that Minho could possibly do better than me?”

Queen Seo shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it either. “Don’t trouble your mind. Tonight, we shall change his perception after we kill that little bastard.”

The promise held dangerous implications, and I stumbled backwards from the door in surprise. It was my sworn duty to protect the rulers of this Castle, and I had barely given the plot any further consideration before I was returning to my quarters.

Because I would ensure Minho’s well-being, even at the cost of my own position.

I was late to the tea ceremony as a result of my efforts, but I only received a stern reprimand from Ms. White before she escorted me to my seat next to Seungmin and Jisung. It also offered me an appropriate vantage point of Minho who I kept within my sights as everyone spoke around me with joyful tones. I had nearly forgotten that it was a celebration, and I found myself narrowing my eyes at Queen Seo and Changbin as they laughed together with the King like there was nothing wrong.

“You seem distracted.”

I slid my gaze away from Changbin - locating Seungmin as he leaned in closer to be make himself heard over the noise. “What did you say?”

“You know, Y/N,” Seungmin said, propping his chin against his hand. “I happen to like this color on you.”

I was surprised by his strangely flirtatious tone. “Excuse, me?”

But instead of replying to my query, Seungmin shot me a discreet wink and turned to Jeongin who offered his brother a friendly smile. The whole encounter was decidedly unusual, and I wondered if everyone in this Castle was startling to lose their minds.

“Don’t concern yourself with him,” Jisung said while nodding at his brother. “He’s a rare breed.”

I found myself smiling at the jest in spite of my concerns. “What can you possibly mean by that, Prince Jisung?”

“It’s his way of impressing you,” Jisung said.

“Impressing me?”

“He’s convinced himself that you only fight with him to hide your true feelings,” Jisung revealed. “Seungmin thinks you’re harboring secret affections.”

“I might’ve helped,” Hyunjin added from across the table, and I grimaced at the idea before reclining back in my chair.

“How remarkable,” I said. “He didn’t seem to like me.”

“Seungmin always acts that way around strangers,” Jisung said. “But he warms up to them eventually.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Hyunjin said. “And try not to hold it against him. He really does like you.”

“But why shouldn’t he?” a new voice contributed, and both Jisung and Hyunjin flinched when Felix suddenly entered the room - pausing at the end of the table. “Y/N is very interesting.”

I turned away from him, fanning my hand across my chest because my heart was doing something peculiar inside my chest.

The King, however, was furious. He stood and glared down at Felix with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Why shouldn’t I come?” Felix returned. “I’d like to celebrate Minho’s ascension to the throne. It’s what a good brother should do.”

“It’s alright, father,” Minho said, and I’m sure his words were shocking to most of the people at the table. “He can sit with us.”

“Very well,” the King relented, but he never took his eyes away from Felix as he sat down next to Hyunjin. “We shall begin.”

The King’s command summoned several handmaidens who brought inside the ceremonial tea for our consumption. Because of what I had discovered earlier, I kept a close eye on the handmaiden who served Minho - it was poisoned tea, and I had taken a potion earlier that should stop its effects. Since the potion contained a powerful chemical that was effective against all the traditional poisons I had studied, everything should be fine.

But there was a small risk that the queen had chosen a poison that could defy my potion, but I doubted that she would go to such great lengths.

“In honor of my son, Minho,” the King announced. “We shall drink to his health and vitality.”

I held my breath when everyone lifted a tea cup into the air, and I chose that precise moment to make my move.

“Your highness,” I intervened, coming around the table to grab Minho’s cup - ignoring the gasps of horror that echoed from the queens. “Shall I try it first?”

Minho blinked in surprise, looking at me like he couldn’t believe that I was standing over him. “I-I suppose.”

“In your honor, of course,” I added hastily before lifting the rim of the delicate cup to my lips.

I could taste the poison as it slid down my throat, but I emptied most of the glass before wiping the remnants with the back of my hand. I sat the cup back on the table, swallowing hard when I felt the effects swim through my system. Thankfully, they were quickly assuaged by the potion that still lingered in my bloodstream. It worked just as I had imagined, and I reached out for Minho’s chair to overcome a brief bout of dizziness.

Everything was silent around me, but I forced a smile as I bowed to the King who was regarding me with a peculiar look. In the meantime, I was determined to finish the rest of the tea so that I could pour Minho something untainted. But I never anticipated further interruptions:

“I’d like to have the honor as well,” Felix said with a smirk, and I glared at him when he rose from his seat.

“It’s not necessary,” I insisted, but Felix jerked the cup away from me with an acute speed.

“But I insist,” Felix said, and he gave me a knowing look - one that said he was aware of the situation.

“Felix-” I tried again, but he had already lifted the rim to his lips - downing the rest of its contents with a sigh.

“Is this funny to you?” the King growled, and Felix simply chuckled.

“I’ve caused enough mischief for one afternoon,” he said, and he stumbled on his way to the exit.

“Fool,” I whispered because I knew that Felix could potentially die without treatment. Thus, I bowed once again to the king before running out of the room in search of him.

It didn’t take me long to find him - collapsed in the remote corridor outside of the room.

“Prince Felix!” I gasped, and I ran the remaining steps before dropping down next to his crumbled form. “Are you insane?”

Felix rolled over onto his back, chest heaving, as he fixed me with a familiar smirk. “How is it fair that you get to have all the fun?

“You knew,” I hissed, cradling his head on my lap as I reached into my robes for the extra potion. “Drink this,” I insisted, holding the vile up to his pale lips.

Felix obeyed, consuming the potion before grinning up at me. “Are you furious with me, Y/N?”

“You absolute fool,” I said, resisting the urge to jostle the prince too much while he still fought to recover. “Why would you do something like that? It was poisoned.”

“But nobody would’ve ever known,” Felix said. “I do admire you, Y/N, but is it wise to stop the efforts of one plot when the same person might conceive of a dozen others?”

I sighed when I realized the wisdom of his words. “It’s a complicated matter,” I said, and the Prince narrowed his eyes.

I didn’t like the suspicious gleam in his gaze, especially when he leaned most of his weight against me for a closer examination. “You know who it is?” he asked, and his nose brushed against mine.

“Don’t do this,” I pleaded with him because I knew that we were teetering precariously over dangerous ground with consequences that went beyond what either of us were prepared to face. It was a personal mattered that involved one of the King’s wives and her son - an issue that would lead to radical conflict.

“You won’t tell me,” Felix stated simply, and I thought I was in the clear until the prince opened his mouth again. “It must be very sinister. I’ll have to assume that it involved someone in that room.”

I swallowed hard and Felix smiled because I had just inadvertently given him the confirmation that he was seeking. “You shouldn’t meddle,” I warned him, shivering when his fingers traced along my lips.

“What I wouldn’t give to see inside that beautiful head of yours,” Felix said, and we both continued to stare at one another in awe.

But the moment was broken by the sounds of approaching footsteps, and I moved away from Felix just in time to see several guards running in our direction. “What’s wrong with him?” one of the guards demanded, and I hesitated because I had also noticed that most of the princes were arriving on the scene.

There was every opportunity to stick to my original plan and keep everything incognito, but then Felix gave me a meaningful look, and I reluctantly relented. “He’s been poisoned.”

“Poisoned!” one of the guards exclaimed, and there was only chaos that followed. Just as I had suspected. But there were also Felix’s green eyes, and they managed to anchor me to the moment, even amidst all the noise and screaming.

They were somehow reassuring, and I clung to them desperately when the King demanded my presence in the Throne Room.

It was an intimidating sight: kneeling before the King as he leered down at me from his throne. “Do you understand that you have no right to decide the fate of this Castle?”

I shivered at the underlying threat in his tone. “Your highness,” I said. “Forgive me. I thought it was best to solve this issue on my own as deemed by my duties.”

“Is this an admission of guilt?” The King asked. “Did you know what would happen before stepping inside that room?”

“Yes,” I said, closing my eyes and wondering if this would be my last day in the Castle.

“You knew of this plot but refused to speak up?” the King growled, and I lowered my head before him.

“Forgive me,” I once again requested softly. “I was afraid that revealing the complexities would cause the perpetrator to act out far more rashly.”

“My son almost died,” the King said, and I could see Minho shift in his seat from my peripheral vision.

“My intention was to save him,” I said. “I wanted to let the assailant know that their plots will never work while I’m around to protect the royal family.”

The King was silent for a moment after my confession, and he considered me with a strange look. “I see,” he finally said. “I cannot punish you mage because your efforts saved Minho, but I must also give you a warning: the next time you learn of something so consequential, you will come to me and reveal everything.”

“Yes, your majesty,” I said, and I stood once more at his command. “I shall remember your words.”

“Very well,” the King said with a dismissive hand. “You may retire to your quarters.”

I made sure to offer him a polite bow before I was rapidly making my way out of the Throne Room - mind working a mile a minute. The brief intervention had allowed the the rare chance to speak to the King without his wives - one of which remained guilty of the plot to kill Minho. I could’ve spoken out against her, but there were far more complications to such an innocuous action.

Who would really believe me over the word of the Queen?

More importantly, would Felix say something about my hidden knowledge? Because he had somehow figured out that I was aware of the guilty party involved, and I had no doubt that he would question me in the future.

Yet, there were also more pressing matters to consider, such as the unexpected arrival of Minho who had somehow escaped the King’s notice. “Mage,” Minho interrupted, stopping me outside the throne room. “Could I have a word?”

“Of course, your highness,” I said, and I followed Minho as he led me further down the corridor to a quiet enclave.

“This is more private for our conversation,” Minho explained, and I was struck by the smile he gave me.

“I’m all ears, your grace,” I said, but Minho surprised me further by laughing, and he crowded me against the wall.

“I know you drank the tea to save me,” Minho said, and I startled when he reached out to touch the side of my face.

“Your highness,” I said, flushing at the unexpected contact. “W-what do you mean?”

“You don’t have to be coy with me, Y/N,” Minho said, and I gasped because it was the first time that he had ever used my real name. “I may not understand love, but I can tell when someone is trying hard to catch my attention.”

I nearly spluttered around my words when I caught onto his implication. “Y-you misunderstand-”

“Please don’t hide anymore,” Minho said, and I faltered at the desperation in his tone. “Perhaps when we get to know one another, I’ll consider bringing the prospect of marriage before my father.”

Marriage!?

“You’re serious,” I said, and I struggled to form a single coherent sentence following Minho’s passionate declaration.

“Shall we start tonight?” Minho continued as if I had never spoken, and his fingers burned a trail down the side of my face.

It was obvious that he was lost to whatever perception he held of me, but I glanced to the side when I heard a noise that had not originated from myself or Minho. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I froze when I found myself caught in the snare of an intimate gaze. But I hesitated when I realized that those green irises belonged to Felix, and the look in his stare was impossible to discern.

#skzwriternet #stayverse #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids series #skz fantasy au #scarlet heart au #lee felix fanfic #slow burn #felix fanfic #mostlycompetent

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eatsleepandsupernatural · 4 years ago

Text

Saved - Chapter Eight

Saved Masterlist

Pairings: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Character Death, Angst, Character Resurrection, excerpts from 14x08

Word Count: 2,243

A/N: Hey! The following chapter does contain some aspects of the Supernatural episode Byzantium. I would like to just state that I do not own those particular paragraphs of this chapter or of course the characters (but we already knew that). You probably didn’t expect the chapter to go this way, it was my plan from the beginning because of an idea I had, can’t tell you yet. Anyway, hope you don’t mind and I hope you enjoy! XX

Tags: @akshi8278 @goddessofmischiefs @flutistbyday2020 @samsgirl93

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Tossing and turning, surrounding yourself with your Alphas scent, no matter how hard you tried, you can’t sleep. Your thoughts are on Jack, the image of him collapsing on the floor, coughing up blood, is replaying over and over in your mind. He had quickly become your closest friend, keeping you company while Sam and Dean went on hunts. You had made a habit of sneaking into the ‘Dean Cave’, cooking up some popcorn and watching movies for hours at a time. The way Jack’s eyes fixed on the T.V like an excited puppy always made you smile. You had barely known him, but the memory of him passing away, his hand grasped firmly in yours, was overwhelming.

You shove the covers off and leave your room in search of Dean and some comfort. You had gone to bed once he and Cas brought Sam back safely after he had left the bunker, feeling the need for some alone time. Hours have passed and your need for your Alpha grew stronger every second.

You find him passed out in the kitchen, surrounded by empty glasses and half drunk bottles of whiskey, snoring louder than you had ever heard.

‘Dean...Dean, you shouldn’t sleep here.’ You speak softly into his ear and gently shake his shoulder in an effort to wake him up. ‘Dean.’

‘I don’t think he’s waking up anytime soon, Y/N.’ You turn around to face Cas, who is watching you from the doorway. ‘Why are you awake?’

‘I never went to sleep, couldn't.’ You admit quietly, knowing what was going to come next, silently wishing it was Sam who had found you.

Cas glances between you and Dean before sighing and holding out his hand, ‘It would be unfair to wake him now. Come on, I’ll get you settled.’

You place your hand in his and let him lead you back to your room, but you don’t make it easy for him, dragging your feet along the way. There is no hiding the fact that you are frustrated with him, with everyone. Jack is dead and they are still hiding things. You want to know why Jack was sick in the first place, and for how long. You want to know why, whenever you ask about anything supernatural related you are ignored.

‘Y/N, what are you doing? Aren’t you tired?’ Cas asks when you pull your hand from his and take a few steps back to put some space between you.

‘I am tired. I am tired of being kept in the dark. Did you ever think that maybe I would have been able to help Jack if I had known what was going on? He was my friend, and I lost him, and I don’t even know why. All you guys do is keep me in the dark for ‘my protection’, but one day, that’s going to come back and bite you in the arse. I may have been afraid of the idea of monsters being real when I first moved in, but I’ve seen Sam and Dean come back from enough hunts to accept that truth now. I’m ready to fight, to help. Dean, he is never going to let me near a gun. I need you to let me help, teach me to fight Cas, please.’

Cas stares at you, surprised by your outburst. He frowns for a moment, deep in thought, before approaching you slowly. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way. I will talk to Dean.’

You roll your eyes at his response and slouch your shoulders. ‘Like that will do...Hey!’

Cas cuts you off mid sentence, grabbing you around the waist and placing two fingers to your forehead. ‘Go to sleep Y/N’

‘Y/N, wake up,’

‘Omega.’ A firm hand on your shoulder and the smooth voice of your Alpha draws you from a peaceful, deep sleep. Your eyes meet Deans tired ones, the bags sitting below them prominent.

‘Morning’. You sit up against the bed head, accepting the glass of water Dean offers you.

‘Afternoon, actually.’

‘Stupid Angel.’ You grunt, making Dean chuckle softly.

‘I had an interesting conversation with Cas this morning.’ He informs you, turning serious once again. ‘He told me you had trouble sleeping, went for a late night stroll.’

‘Didn’t realise that was something I wasn’t allowed to do.’ You shoot back. You aren’t sure where the attitude is coming from, but you are sick of Dean’s Alpha behaviour.

‘I didn’t say that.’ He speaks quickly, eyes scanning your face in an attempt to read your thoughts. ‘But he told me what you spoke about, and I’m sorry. Truly. My intentions were always to keep you safe, and in doing so, I’ve pushed you away. And you’re right, chances of you holding a gun in this lifetime, or any other lifetime are pretty small. But you’re also right, that I have been letting the Alpha in me control my actions, and I have been unfair to you. If you believe that you are ready, you can be put on research duty. That means books only, no knives, no guns, no ghosts. We got a deal?’

You stare at your Alpha with wide eyes, shocked and disbelieving. Dean stands up from the bed and smiles down at you, ‘You coming? You might want to get dressed. We have a guest.’

You take a few minutes to compose yourself, washing your face and brushing your teeth in the basin, before getting dressed and leaving your room in search of the others.

The library is not how you left it last night, furniture has been moved to the side, and Sam and Dean stand next to a table in the middle of what looks to be a very intense discussion making you pause at the door and hide behind the wall, you decide waiting out the conversation is the best idea.

‘Use the soul-sucking magic? Boy, that lady’s a peach.’ Dean’s tone of voice surprises you, and you realise this was one of the things he was trying to hide from you, his hunter side.

‘Listen, we talked about this.’ Sam interjects.

‘I know. Gotta happen. It’s the only way. Right. But I don’t like rolling the dice on some psycho ex-angel killer.’

‘I don’t love it, either, but taking risks, making crappy deals--that’s what we do.’

‘Yeah, and they usually bite us in the arse.’ You smile at Dean’s choice of words, remembering what you had said to Cas last night.

‘So, what do you want to do about it? Leave Jack in the morgue? Burn him?’ That’s the moment you realise that they were planning to do something about Jack, to try and bring him back. You had heard snippets of conversations before, you knew that both Sam and Dean had died at least once.

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Because, for me, not doing this--that-- that would be like letting him die all over again.’ At Sam’s words your heart almost breaks all over again and you struggle to hold back tears.

‘I want Jack back, too okay? I do. I just don’t trust Lily. Especially with my little eavesdropper.’

If you hadn’t had that conversation with Dean ten minutes ago, your heart would have dropped to your stomach. You straighten your back and peek around the doorway with a small smile on your face. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’

Dean rolls his eyes but waves you over, and you reach him the same time Cas comes up the steps looking more than stressed.

‘You got a twenty on Jack?’ Dean asks, eyes pleading for a yes.

‘Not exactly. Angel Radio is playing a distress signal.’

‘Awesome’, He replies, letting his arms fall, surely mirroring his disappointment.

‘All of Heaven’s gates are open, even the ones that Metatron closed.’

‘What could that mean?’ Sam asks.

‘I don’t know but it’s not good.’

‘More awesome.’ Dean says, making you reach out and grab his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze.

‘All right, well you go. We got Lily. When we’re ready, we’ll pray.’ Sam says, hoping that the solution will be enough.

Cas shares a look with Sam and Dean before walking away and to do whatever he had to do.

‘What’s going on?’ You ask, turning back to face the two Alphas.

‘We may have a way to bring Jack back. It’s risky, but we figured it’s worth a shot. You can hang around for now, but if I need you to leave later, you have to trust me. We’ve never done this before Y/N.’

You are tempted to argue but something in Sam’s eyes makes you change your mind. He is watching you carefully, eyes wide, pleading with you to reassure Dean that you’ll listen.

‘Got it, just tell me to go make myself some lunch, and I’m gone.’ As soon as you see Dean’s entire body relax you know you have made the right decision and Sam shoots you the biggest smile, to which you respond with an eye roll. It’s as if they don’t believe you can behave.

‘Alright, hand me that glass bottle would ya?’ Dean gestures behind you as he moves to fiddle with some paint and a bowl on the table.

You pick it up, inspecting the clear liquid inside before handing it over and you and Sam watch as he pours the liquid in and stirs the paint around. He picks up the bowl and holds out a piece of paper for him to copy from and you watch in awe as Dean expertly paints a large symbol on the wooden floor.

‘The instruction manual’. You had been watching Dean so closely you hadn’t heard the footsteps of another person approach the three of you and you jump away in shock as she hands an old leather-bound book to Sam.

‘It’s alright Y/N,’ Sam reassures you before turning to face the older woman who you assume must be Lily gives you a questioning look before turning back to Sam. ‘Thanks. All right, we’re almost set. Just got to get one more thing. I’m gonna go grab it.’ He says, he gives you a second reassuring smile before walking off. You watch him go, as he does, he grabs Dean’s attention and nods in the direction of you and the strange woman.

Dean puts the bowl and brush down on the ground as he stands up and walks towards you, watching where he steps. He gives you a quick smile before addressing Lily.

‘You know, I think we got off to a bad start. Um, I guess I should be thanking you.’

‘Apology accepted.’ You frown at Lily’s response and her attitude towards your Alpha, but you stay quiet, unwilling to test any boundaries on the first day. ‘Are you going to introduce me?’

‘Uh, right. This is Y/N, my mate. Y/N, this is Lily Sunder, an old...acquaintance.’

‘Nice to meet you.’ You nod from your corner with a small smile, not a fan of strangers. Lily was a beta, but she gives off a weird vibe that makes you uncomfortable.

‘There, you’re acquainted, great. Except, something’s been bothering me. Uh, you know, if this magic of yours is so great...why’d you stop using it? You’re letting yourself get old. You’re letting yourself die. Why? Why risk going to hell if you don’t have to? There’s something you’re not telling us.’

You raise your eyebrows at Dean’s words and look to Lily, waiting for her answer. Is this magic too risky to use on Jack?

‘When Ishim took my daughter, I swore I’d kill him, even if it meant burning my entire soul. But it didn’t. I have a sliver, a whisper of my soul left.’

‘And?’ Dean prompts, getting impatient.

‘May--my daughter, my little girl--is in heaven. And if there is still a piece of my soul...Now do you understand?’

You are deep in thought when Sam comes back carrying a box filled to the brim with candles. You watch as he places them down at different points on the symbol like he had done it hundreds of times before.

‘Sweetheart.’ Your head whips up at the sound of Dean calling from the other side of the room, breaking you from your thoughts. ‘Why don’t you go make yourself that lunch we talked about.’ You glance back over to Sam who’s already looking at you, one eyebrow raised, a reminder of your promise.

‘I was getting hungry anyway. You know where I’ll be if you need me.’ Sending your Alpha one last long look before making your way to the kitchen.

You take your time, deciding to make a pasta salad, one of your favourite home-made dishes from before your parents became alcoholics.

Twenty minutes later, one potato salad and a cup of tea, your curiosity gets the better of you. You quietly make your way down the hallway and poke your head around the corner to see Jack sitting up on the table saying words you don’t understand, Sam and Dean standing either side of him.

‘Was that my soul?’ He asks, looking up at Dean.

‘How do you feel?’ Dean queries, his hands hovering over Jack as if he is expecting something to go wrong.

‘Good. I feel...good.’

Sam smiles as Dean gives Jack a quick hug.

‘It’s good to have you back’, he says with his hand resting on Jack’s shoulder.

You are about to join them when you notice Lily sitting in your favourite chair, umoving.

‘Lily, thank you,’ Dean speaks from beside Jack.

‘Yeah. Lily..’ Sam’ voice is halted when he sees Lily.

‘Lily?’ Dean calls once more but there is no response.

‘How about Jack and I go back to his room, I can help him get settled?’ You ask tentatively from the door.

The Alpha’s turn to face you faster than you thought possible. ‘How long have you been standing there?’ Sam asks, his lips twitching as he tries to hold back a smile.

‘Long enough. I got bored.’ You smile at Jack who slowly turns around to meet gaze.

Dean rolls his eyes at your excuse for leaving the kitchen but keeps his opinions to himself all the same. ‘You wanna hang out with Y/N for a bit Jack? We’ve got some clean-up to do.’

Jack nodded, ‘I like the sound of that,’ he says getting off the table and making his way over to you on wobbly legs.

‘I’ve changed my mind, why don’t we break into Dean’s room instead.’ You suggest, wagging your eyebrows at him in excitement.

‘Can we watch Star Wars? I like that one.’

‘Jack, we can watch anything you want.’

#supernautral #superntural #alpha dean winchester #alpha dean x omega reader #supernatural abo #jack kline #castiel #spn 14x08

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years ago

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Terra Week Day 6 (Free Day)

Summary: Sometimes, a ghost is a wish. | Word Count: 3,218

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 6

The Master’s bedroom is exactly as he left it many years ago. Bed made, dresser (now) dusty, curtains parted to let the sunlight in, walk-in closet neatly organized with not a single article of clothing in his hamper, as the Master was a fan of washing clothes every single day. Terra never found out why.

Terra has rummaged through this drawer three times already and still he can’t find them. He’s looking for a stack of sepia-toned pictures, cradled in a small envelope, the ones on the top dated many years ago when the Master was a student, while the ones at the bottom chronicle some of his adult life when Terra and Aqua were children. He’s tried searching every drawer, every box, every cupboard, and has even looked under the mattress and in the pillow cases. He couldn’t have misremembered them, could he?

One of the things he’s surprised to find instead is a small, delicately furnished wooden box with a latch. Full of cigars. The Master never smoked, but maybe he liked to smell like them. Though Terra would never personally choose to keep a set in his dresser, smudging all his clothes.

Sighing, Terra stands by the bed, taking another gander around the room to see if there’s a spot he could have missed. Maybe behind the mirror? No, not there. He slips his hands into his pockets, and finds something else. Folded over in four, the paper is crumpled, living in his pocket for the better part of a week. Naminé’s drawing of Xemnas is messier, the strokes of crayon meshed into each other that he’s less of a childish, crude figure and more of a smear. That ring of fire surrounding him stays closed.

Terra grunts.

Here comes another headache, a tense pulse above his brow. Massaging it never helps. Suddenly, Terra is not in his Master’s old bedroom anymore. Suddenly, he’s standing high on a cliff overlooking a wasteland, talking to someone in a black cloak with the hood up.

Now he’s back in the bedroom, the sun cutting shapes through the lace curtains with the breeze passing by. In a few minutes, the headache will go away. This is how it goes every single time.

Yes, it’s been a week since they left Radiant Garden. Only Ienzo uses the Gummiphone for contact, leaving long messages that take Terra too much time to reply back to. The rest of the team would prefer correspondence through letters, which is something Terra would rather do as well. He just hasn’t done so yet, focusing his attention on cleaning the castle as they start a new life without their old Master. Once that’s done, he promises himself to do so.

It’s a shame, he knows he should make more of an effort (and promises that he would once he takes care of the Master). Xion sometimes texts him with pictures, some of them with Roxas, who still hasn’t made an effort to talk to him even though they played a good race at the beach (Terra didn’t even need to let him win—that kid is fast). That’s okay. Xion has offered to set Terra up with what she calls a Kingstagram account, and Terra supposes that’s okay, too. He just doesn’t know what that is or if it’s worth his time.

In the end, he is still really bad at connecting with others, and he’s still out of pictures, and he still doesn’t know what to do with the Xemnas drawing. Any moment now, Aqua will come looking for him. They’re finally preparing for his memorial, to say goodbye to his Keyblade—

—And Terra has to say goodbye forever without ever seeing him again. What’s the point of staying linked to these memories if they do nothing for him?

Why does looking at this drawing of Xemnas the only thing that gives him reminders?

Grunting, Terra rubs his face. Maybe it’s as good a time as any to text somebody now, distract himself so he calms down and do some good so he’s not completely isolated. He waits for his Gummiphone to turn on to the initial screen, the whirring of the machine the only noise accompanying him. How did Ven do this again? He clicks on his address book. Now he has to remember how to open a text and take a picture, particularly of the Xemnas drawing.

terra

did he ever call you an also-ran

Send.

Terra doesn’t expect Lea to answer right away. He probably will read the text, probably take the time he needs to register how he feels before painting his usual bright smile that he uses to play everyone. Maybe Terra has him all wrong. Maybe this is really offensive, and Lea would actually be upset. It’s not his intention.

The Gummiphone buzzes several times.

lea

see

i told isa the other day

the first time i saw you i thought you looked like an asshole

Terra snorts to himself quietly.

terra

is that your favorite word

lea

So it’s all good. Terra breathes a sigh of relief, a smirk that’s warm on his cheeks. He doesn’t know if texting people randomly is the right way to go about doing this whole make-new-friends thing. It’s not as easy as walking up to somebody and saying hello anymore, but starting a new life doesn’t have a manual.

As though the chains he linked through Xemnas harbor resentment, he’s hit with another spasm of pain, drilling onto the side of his skull. Stars, they get intense sometimes, some of them downright gorey. He will not think about it. He will push it away. The pain subsides but only a bit, throbbing instead.

It can’t end like this. He’s avoided going back to Naminé ever since just to keep trying and see Eraqus, one more time. One more. It’s not much to ask for, so why can’t the stars be more forgiving? He swears to them he’ll never ask for something again.

Terra groans, pain hammering over his brow. What’s coming this time is going to knock him around, so he lowers himself to his knees. Several people dressed in extravagant embroidery, from some other world, being swallowed up by darkness, their hearts floating up to the sky and a small cry of Mister, is my mommy coming back?

When it’s over, Terra sobs, keeping a heave from rupturing his chest and wiping dry tears. If Aqua comes in and sees him like this, she’ll freak—she’s already brewed so many potions and teas for him whenever he has an episode.

He tries for the closet again. The Master kept his most expensive robes wrapped in plastic, preserving a faded scent of cedar. Terra takes the fabric, smooth as silk, and breathes into it. It’s weaker than last time. He could always spray it with the Master’s leftover cologne (his favorite), but it still wouldn’t smell exactly like him, and as Terra waits seconds for another memory to come, he realizes as soon as it hurts that it wouldn’t bother with giving him what he’s looking for. All he asks for is the sound of the Master’s voice, to see that smile move one more time so he makes sure he sears it into his mind for the rest of his life.

Instead, a strong voice (Xehanort’s) talks about the Darkness making way for the Light, just like the expansive sky that is home to the stars. It was necessary to pursue it, he had said to someone.

A single tear treads all the way to Terra’s jawline. He’s tried his best. No photos, no special memory. It’s like the Master doesn’t linger here anymore.

Defeated, Terra pulls his Gummiphone out, searching for Naminé’s entry. He won’t commit to an appointment. He’s only asking questions, wondering if there are better ways to maneuver through the memories so he gets what he wants. She doesn’t answer right away.

He pulls himself up at the foot of the bed, aching like an older man even though he looks twenty in the mirrors. What lies.

Where else to find mementos? Terra has already looked through the Master’s study and his favorite spots in the library. The only place left is the attic.

The attic sits atop the northeast tower. Terra is in the residential wing, in the southeast tower, so he has to travel several paces downstairs to make it over, just to climb all the way back up. Entirely built of wood, the attic has one stained-glass window that slices pastels through the floorboards. A lot of junk gets dumped up here—old knight statues from a Master that lived eight-hundred years ago or so, faded paintings that have names but aren’t recognizable anymore, couches that are stained and out of style, chests of outdated books and maps, and trinkets and gifts that litter everywhere else. Even Aqua can’t bear to let any of this go despite that none of it truly belongs to anybody. To her, it’s like rejecting their history. The Master probably had felt the same.

Before what happened, Master Eraqus was moving items up here, mostly stacks of papers. They were shoved in a leather binder, tied together with string. It’s a long shot the photos will be with them, but regardless, Terra begins the hunt.

It’s not in the chest of crystals. Not by the old (creepy) dollhouse. Not with any of the broken phonograms, nor with the folded rugs that stack from floor to ceiling.

But it’s right there, sitting neatly by a basket full of gold artifacts from worlds Terra has never been to and engraved in languages he doesn’t know, tied with a red string and stitched in handmade leather. When Terra pulls it open, he’s greeted by a handful of letters written to Eraqus about trouble in other worlds, asking for his help, and a stack of essays about the philosophy of the Keyblade, both in the common-tongue and the ancient.

It’s nothing like reliving memories or watching them like footage, but Terra imagines the Master working late into the night on his desk with a quill, writing these essays slowly so he keeps his impeccable script. He’d read books with a glass of wine every night, and keep at it in the morning with a mug of coffee, hair unbrushed as usual but that’s fine when he keeps it in a short ponytail every day. He’d disappear every week to some other world, leaving Terra and Aqua with a nanny until they were old enough to take care of themselves. Considering what these people are writing about—missing circus animals, their neighborhood mountain being possessed, and even an early report of Unversed showing up in the woods—the Master used to be a busy man.

Why did he have to die that day? Why can’t Terra keep the things that are supposed to come with home?

Terra sniffs. The smell of cedar comes up, as though the cologne was sprayed up here recently. Kicked up with a cloud of dust, as though the Master is here.

I am… well, for a short time at least.

Terra whips over his shoulder to find the Master behind him, a glow beaming through him as he checks the rust spreading on one of the oldest sets of armor. Picking up dust, Master Eraqus rubs it between his fingers.

This sorely needs urgent attention. I recommend some solvent and a spot of oil, he says, smiling at Terra as if it’s any other morning and breakfast will be announced soon. So many histories live here.

“Master?” Terra drops the papers.

Eraqus tsks his disapproval and like muscle memory, Terra immediately gathers the papers together, working on automatic mode, tucking them under his arm as if this is class and he has to be on his best behavior. When the Master approaches, he makes no noise: no thuds to his steps, no wind whooshed by his robe, gliding gracefully across the floor. Terra bows... though he cannot fight the urge to stare up. Terra has forgotten about the scar; it was on the Master’s face, every single day, but he’s never heard the story behind it. An elephant accident. A run-in with pirates. Those were the contradicting explanations he’s heard every time he asks.

The Master looks down, motioning with his hand to stand up. Look at you. Almost as tall as I am.

“You’re here.”

The Master smiles. This is the happiest Terra remembers him being; he must not feel his chronic back pains anymore. You have spent your whole week following me. He gives Terra a mischievous knowing in his eyes. I suppose it would be rude of me not to return the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” Terra gasps, mouth gaped open for all the words he prepared, but now that the moment is passing by, he doesn’t know what to say anymore. He reaches out with a hand but stops himself, scared of what it would feel like to to pass right through the image. “I missed you.”

And I have missed you all so much, Eraqus says with contentment.

“I wish it never happened,” Terra chokes. “Sometimes, I wish I could find some way—”

Shhh. The Master shakes his head lovingly. Don’t. No longer shall you venture down the path of grief. You have already experienced first-hand what such curiosities could lead to. And you already know you don’t need to.

“I know,” Terra whispers. “I know.”

When the Master smiles this time, he sighs and closes his eyes like he’s feeling the sun. I have reunited with so many of my old friends since. Such a peaceful existence. He opens them. Your friendships are something to cherish for as long as they can physically walk by your side, Terra. But who am I to lecture? You have always. Friends to love, who want to care for you. I am so proud.

So proud…

Tears, quiet and happy, fall like drops of spring, Terra hearing what he always yearned to hear since he was six years old, a comforting embrace that wants to tell him he can breathe again without feeling guilty.

But he still does. Every living breath is guilty by association.

“She’s so happy now,” Terra whispers as if to justify his actions, remembering Aqua sparring for the first time with Rainfell in years, hesitant at first, unsure of how it’s going to react with spells, but it comes fast. It comes like drinking water, natural and needed. “I don’t regret anything.”

Which was why you were the perfect candidate when I had asked you to look after them. He smirks. I couldn’t have trusted anyone better for the responsibility.

Terra swallows, searching for the courage not to ask, believing he shouldn’t. He’s weak. “I am?”

The smile falls. You are not weak.

You are willing to bare it all for your friends. Your bonds with Aqua and Ven are unbreakable, a magical, special, living Light to behold. A forge stronger than chains, weightless and free. I am sorry for seeding so much doubt within you, when you have so much to offer. If only I wasn’t—it was my duty to do better. That is my shame. He shakes his head at himself. But you’ve been so dedicated to the past, Terra, he says, concerned but not disappointed. Too much so. I worry.

Terra grimaces. “Ha, I never have any explanations for the dumb mistakes I make when I need to.”

You’ll find little answers in what lies behind you. The Master leans forward, pulling a small smile as he studies Terra’s eyes. But you are more than capable. Please do me the favor. Trace the past no longer. You have your bonds to nourish, and more to flower. Then he smiles more, an epiphany in his eyes like he wants to share a secret. Only in death did I realize what true Mastery really is. The living can be so foolish.

“You weren’t a fool, Master.”

Master… A Master is a forever student. To deny this is to be blind to your faults. Eraqus laughs, his eyes rolling. What would I have said to my younger self. You don’t see that one in the books.

“I don’t know, I… I think what I did for Aqua trumps any dream I had in becoming Master.”

Eraqus’s eyes glisten. Do you not see one when you look at yourself in the mirror?

Terra bows his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, warm and real. Terra could hug him. But he doesn’t, not when Eraqus slips something flat in his hand.

Do take care of them. He holds Terra’s jaw. Chin up, son.

Footsteps climb up the stairs leading into the attic, and Terra is alone with a smooth piece of paper in one hand, the other wiping tears from his cheeks.

“Terra? You okay? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Aqua is carrying a finished wreath with purple flowers. She stops when she gasps, looking around the attic. “That smells like the Master’s cologne,” she whispers.

When Terra smiles, he cries more. “Look at this.”

A sepia-toned picture of Eraqus as a young boy, sitting on a window seat with a chess board laid out in front of him, all teeth from ear to ear, sincere and hopeful. He looks at the camera like it’s his best friend.

Aqua’s eyes light up as she takes it, a tear for each eye. “Look at him. It’s so strange, but he was adorable.”

“Have you ever seen that one?”

“Never. It wasn’t with the others.”

“The others?”

She strokes the photo with her thumb. “Hm. I moved them into my room. I wanted to frame them.” She holds it to her chest. “Can I take this one?”

“For your room?”

“I’ve got one ready for yours. It’s that nice portrait that used to embarrass him.”

The one where he looked serious enough to judge someone to death. The Master had called it unsightly when it was presented to him.

“That one’s perfect.”

Aqua exhales deeply, shivering as tries to keep herself tall. “I’m so sad he’s gone, and... I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I had given him a Wayfinder. He feels so far away.”

He holds her chin softly, keeping it up as her heavy tears fall. “We could give him ours.”

She stops sobbing and stares through Terra when the realization hits her. She nods. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she says, nuzzling the wreath closer to her, her own little hug for the Master.

Terra’s Gummiphone buzzes in his pocket. That has to be Naminé.

“The wreath is beautiful,” he tells Aqua, and that grounds her back to reality. “You’ve done a marvelous job.”

“Thank you.” She strokes some of the leaves to keep them in place. “I’ll see you back at the front door?”

“Definitely.”

He’ll let her go downstairs first, pulling out the Gummiphone to read his new text. He’s going to tell Naminé that he’s changed his mind. He’s ready for an appointment.

#kh terra #terra #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #AHHHHHHHHHHHH #this one is def not as good #so is the last one #i just ran out of time i'm sorry #my fic

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ryqoshay · 3 years ago

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Putting on Hairs: Monster Manual

Summary: Short descriptions of the monster types of each girl and the role they play in the theater or in association with it. Warning: This Manual may contain ***SPOILERS*** for characters not yet mentioned or explored or for scenes that have not yet been written, though I will try to keep things limited to what has been revealed.

This chapter also may end up being edited. A lot. This whole thing is a work in progress, so unrevealed or unexplored characters may have their monster types or roles, or both, changed if a better idea presents itself.

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Name: Yazawa Nico Race: Weredog Werewolf Role: Star of Putting on Hairs Background: Inspired to be an actress by her father, who wanted her to share her smile with the world. She has been acting pretty much as long as she has been able to talk. She had many lead roles back in high school and college, but was unable to land one upon becoming a professional, despite her popularity with both critics and general audiences. She earned enough to hire an old high school friend, Nozomi, to be her agent. It was Nozomi that found a newly opened theater willing to give Nico her first shot at stardom on the professional stage.

Name: Nishikino Maki Race: Salamander Role: Costar of Putting on Hairs Background: Maki was born into a family of famous and wealthy movie stars. However, she grew up falling in love with live theater, instead of the silver screen. Still, she obeyed her parents' wishes and became a child star in a television series and appeared in many commercials afterward. After college, she manged to persuade her parents to let her try performing in live theater and they made the connections that landed her costar role alongside the rising star, Nico.

Name: SakurauchiRiko Race: Demon, formerly of Amdusias' legion Role: Pianist in the orchestra Background: Fearing facing an eternity of playing the cacophonous music of Hell, Riko fled to Earth in an attempt to find something else. She was quickly drawn to the piano and was able to earn a meager living playing in bars and other small venues. She applied many other places and was eventually accepted at a newly opened theater.

Name: Tsushima Yoshiko Yohane Race: Angel, Fallen Role: Assistant in the costume department Background: Cast out of heaven and cursed, Yoshiko has spent years trying to find her place in the mortal realm. Somehow, she found herself in Tokyo and stumbled into a kind woman, Kotori, who offered to teach her how to weave her own feathers into garments that could be sold at a premium. When Kotori accepted a position at a theater being opened by her childhood friend, Umi, Yoshiko decided to follow and continue her apprenticeship. Name: Toujou Nozomi Race: ??? Role: Nico's agent Background: Nico's closest friend since high school where they were in the same drama club. They moved in together in college and have lived together since. Nozomi majored in business and began her own talent agency with Nico as her first client.

Name: Minami Kotori Race: Crane Role: Head of costume department Background: Childhood friend of Umi and Honoka. Has always had an affinity toward clothing and design. When Umi started working with Dia to open a theater, Kotori jumped at the chance to make outfits for the cast. She is quite skilled at using her own feathers to imbue exceptional qualities in the clothing she creates and is happy to pass this knowledge to Yoshiko, her assistant. She is also capable of using other materials derived from other beings, e.g. Phobetor's fur or Riko's wings. Favors are her preferred currency, particularly those that will benefit the theater.

Name: Sonoda Umi Race: ??? Role: Co-founder and Co-owner of the Sonoda Kurosawa Theater Background: Childhood friend of Kotori and Honoka. Daughter of the renowned Sonoda family who already have a theater in Tokyo. However, as her elder brother stands to inherit the family theater, she has decided to open one of her own in a different district.

Name: Kousaka Honoka Race: ??? Role: Owner of Kousaka Catering Background: Childhood friend of Kotori and Umi. Took over the family catering business when her parents retired. Happily contracts with Umi's theater as often as possible.

Name: Hoshizora Rin Race: ??? (cat something) Role: Delivery girl at Kousaka Catering Background: Childhood friend, now girlfriend of Hanayo. Happily supports her girlfriend's theater obsession, even if she doesn't share it.

Name: Koizumi Hanayo Race: ??? Role: Cast member Background: Childhood friend, now girlfriend of Rin. Obsessed with theater from a young age, Hanayo has always dreamed of becoming an actress. However, she lacks courage. Rin's encouragement and support were the driving force behind her joining the theater club in high school and eventually earning a degree in acting. It was also Rin's connection with Umi through Honoka that led her to be brought on at the new theater.

Name: Ohara Mari Race: ??? Role: Heiress to the Ohara chain of hotels and patron of the theater Background: Childhood friend of Kanan and Dia. Lost track of her best friends when she moved to the United States to finish high school and then Italy for college. Returned to Japan but was only successful in reuniting with Kanan. Both moved to Tokyo when they heard Dia was opening a theater there. She owns a sizable penthouse apartment near the theater where she lives with Kanan. She leaves a room open for Dia, should she ever wish to accept the offer.

Name: Matsuura Kanan Race: Kraken Role: Owner of a dive shop and driver for Mari Background: Childhood friend of Mari and Dia. Lost track of Mari when she moved to the United States to finish high school and Dia when she moved to Tokyo for college. Reunited with Mari upon her return to Japan and agreed to move to Tokyo with her when they heard Dia was opening a theater there. She lives with Mari in a sizable penthouse apartment. As Mari refuses to charge her rent, she contributes to the household in other ways, like driving for Mari.

Name: Kurosawa Dia Race: ??? Role: Co-founder and Co-owner of the Sonoda Kurosawa Theater Background: Childhood friend of Mari and Kanan. Lost track of Mari when she moved to the United States to finish high school. Then she moved to Tokyo for college and lost track of Kanan. She is not entirely sure how Mari and Kanan learned she was opening a theater, but she is grateful for the generous donations made by Mari. She is also grateful Mari has not attempted to use the donations as leverage in her repeated efforts to get Dia to move in with her and Kanan. As for the theater, she has not openly discussed her reasons for moving to Tokyo instead of staying in Numazu where her family was already established in the industry. Upon opening, she extended an offer of employment to her younger sister, Ruby.

Name: Kurosawa Ruby Race: ??? Role: General staff at the theater Background: Younger sister of Dia. Grew up obsessed with acting, though has never had the courage to try becoming an actress herself. She moved to Tokyo when Dia offered her employment at the theater she was opening. Her best friend, Hanamaru, has suggested trying for a few minor roles, but time will tell if she does so.

Name:Kunikida Hanamaru Race: ??? Role: Theater crew Background: Best friend of Ruby who she met in middle school. Raised in a temple with few modern amenities, she has limited experience with technology. However, the temple did host many events over the years, most of which included some sort of theatrical performace. As such, Hanamaru decided to join Ruby in moving to Tokyo and applied for a position in the crew for Dia's theater.

Name: Emma Verde Race: ??? Role: ??? Background: Born and raised in Switzerland, she moved to Japan to learn more about the country's culture by way of its theater production. At least that is what she would say if asked in a public interview. In private, among those she trusts, she would admit she wanted to learn more about the differences of public perception and acceptance of monsters in Japan compared to the rest of the world.

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Notes: So, that's what I have at the moment. I'll keep adding details as they come to me.

As mentioned above, I will attempt to keep this chapter spoiler-free. However, as spoilers personally do not bother me, if the interest is there with my readers, I will put everything I have here, not just the details revealed in the story, up to wherever I have managed to write. This probably will result in more edit notifications, as I will undoubtedly change things, right up to the point of it being used in the story. And I'm not opposed to possible retcons if better ideas come later.

Also, many of the ??? entries are due to me not having assigned that monster type or role to that girl, though some I have assigned, but have not yet revealed. I am still working on filling my spreadsheet and bouncing ideas off several fellow authors.

However, I am more than happy to accept suggestions from my readers as well. Feel free to comment over on AO3 or send a suggestion anonymously here, or message me directly here, on twitter or Discord. If I like the idea or your reasoning, I may end up using it, and as always I will do my best to credit the sources of my inspiration.

Also, the idea doesn't necessarily need to be a perfect fit. Koto's is probably the best fit out of all of them; I really don't think I will end up doing better. WoofNic is shamelessly stolen from daily-nicotine. Krakanan was too funny not to use, though I knew she had to be some sort of sea critter. Maki started as an Ifrit and was changed to salamander because I love the idea of her being smaller than Nico. Riko is a demon to be an opposite to Yohane's angel, but I'm also amused by the contrast between Riko's canon traits and those stereotypically assigned to demons.

#Putting on Hairs

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skeletonsloverockcandy · 5 years ago

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A Hitchhiker’s Guide For Androids

Summary: Logan is an Android/AI that has escaped the lab he was built in with the help of Deceit and he hopes to forge a new life for himself.

Warnings: Talk of intense pain, torture mention tw, dehumanization, food mention, mean scientists, a.i./robots, sympathetic deceit, I think that’s it.

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan/Logic Sanders, Deceit Sanders, (more characters to be added in later chapters)

Word Count: 5,774

Chapter One: The Escape

Logan took long, silent strides down the empty corridor, moving swiftly to the control panel by the door at the end. He knew the cameras would be turned away at this moment, they were set on an automatic timer, so he was virtually invisible right at this instant. He hoped he could trust Dr. D so successfully transfer the access codes on time, yet he still had to grapple with the possibility of human error. One wrong move on his accomplice’s part and Logan’s entire future would be dashed. Logan tried not to feel nervous, which was easy for the most part because it was hard for him to feel anything regarding emotions. Impossible even, given that he was a machine.

But right now his freedom was at stake, so if he must rely actions of a human, then rely on a human he must.

Logan raised his hand to the access panel and hovered his fingers over the keys of the number pad. The door was a deadlock bolt and his internal processing was barred from reaching the restricted codes externally, so he had to enlist the help of an individual who could access them manually. Thus, Dr. D earned a significant role in his escape attempt, a vital one, really.

Just as Logan’s hand was about to stop over the access panel, at the anticipation that something had halted Dr. D’s progress, he felt data transfer to him via a local server link and mentally opened the access codes. If Artificial Intelligence was capable of experiencing relief, then he certainly would have felt it right then.

He input the access pin on the panel. 1-0-1-9-2-0-1-6, enter! The metal door began to split open, shifting a thin line of blinding light into the dimly lit corridor. The door widened from the middle and Logan stepped through the newly formed escape route. At last, freedom!

Logan took a purposeful step through the doorway and into the outside world. The light that seemed bright at first appeared softer now through the light grey sky. It was raining in large drizzling drops, the kind of rain that was perfect for watering plants, or washing away old dirt. Not the torrential rain that creates sheets of water too thick to see through or that creates large mudslides. No, it was a gentle rain, and as Logan stepped out from the door and onto the dewy, grassy lawn in front of the facility that served as his birthplace and his prison, he felt the heat his internal processors had been generating from the computing efforts of calculating his escape beginning to cool. As the water hit his face, he took a single moment to stop and savor the sensation of the organic, uncalculated, erratic scientific phenomena that are the raindrops hitting his skin and his plain-white T-shirt. Then he snapped back into focus, striding off across the lawn towards the chain-link fence on the opposite side of the facility, facing the surrounding woods.

He knew the cameras on the exterior were static, so he didn’t have to worry about timing with these, only the necessity of remaining in their blind-spots. Still, he would rather move with some haste, because despite Dr. D’s assistance, it would only be a matter of time before the other scientists and engineers noticed he was missing. Staying close to the tan cinder-block wall of the facility, he stayed within the areas unnoticed to the otherwise all-seeing cameras, and reached the fence. It was high and wide as it surrounded the entirety of the facility, and the top was wrapped in generous coils of barbed wire. This was more targeted at keeping individuals from entering than preventing individuals from exiting. One, because it is a secret, privately-funded, scientific research facility that deals with unregulated and barely legal materials, and two, because they never accounted for the possibility of something they created wanting out.

Logan quickly scaled the chain-link fence with ease, careful not to touch or damage the barbed wire at the top as to not leave evidence of the direction he escaped in before jumping down to the other side.

He walked forward into the surrounding pines and wilderness, stepping on the damp earth, away from his past, and towards his new destiny. When he was past the tree line that hid a steep incline that was littered in pine needles and slick, grey rocks, he turned back to look at the building he had been built in, and wished that he could thank Dr. D.

Well, I’m sure he understands the sentiment, he rationalized while staring at the unassuming building. It had a slanted black metal roof and appeared to be only one story. Most of the facility was hidden underground. He’d rather not think about it.

Logan turned back towards the wilderness and continued his trek forward. He understood from his internal GPS that the facility was remote and miles away from the nearest town. If he were human, he would have no chance of getting anywhere near it before nightfall, regardless of the fact that it was only morning right now. Thankfully though, he wasn’t human, and he should be able to make it to the next town in a matter of hours if he ran.

He trekked onward through the woods at breakneck pace, startling birds from their perches as he ran. He was relying on his GPS system to take him to the nearest road, and take him it did. Logan emerged from the treeline onto a two-lane road with slick asphalt, wet from the rain that had reduced to a sprinkle overhead.

He paused and looked on down the road. He realized now would be a good time to look over his resources while there were no prying eyes about. Logan took a step onto the asphalt, scanned the surrounding area for life forms and heat signatures and thankfully only identified a stray rabbit scurrying away and again the birds flapping and chirping overhead. Finding himself adequately isolated, he lifted the fabric of his now slightly disheveled and dirty white T-shirt, and gently pressed at the skin at his right side with a slight clicking sound. A seam seemed to appear in his side where flesh met other flesh and opened a small compartment that revealed part of his inner workings. Though among the metal and wiring and blinking lights, there were other things that didn’t belong, two things in fact. A thick brown leather wallet and a smartphone with a black case. He had stolen both from one of the scientists while he was plotting his escape and wiped the phone so they couldn’t track it.

Right now, however, he was more interested in the wallet. It was full of credit cards that were useless to him because their purchases could be tracked, so he disposed of those. He instead focused on the driver’s license and the cash that the wallet held. Logan made sure to steal the wallet from one of the wealthier scientists who was careless enough to carry large amounts of money on their person, and he got it on a Friday that the scientist was planning to go out partying too, much to the misfortune of the scientist. Logan currently had on him $500 dollars which he would have to manage and use carefully if he didn’t want to resort to more theft and draw attention to himself. The licence had the scientist’s identification and age on it, but Logan didn’t care what their name or age was, he just needed the template. He took the licence and peeled back some of the false skin on his arm revealing a small slot, then fed the licence into it. Then Logan mentally constructed himself a new identity and mapped it onto the existing licence.

He was now Logan Smith (the most generic last name he could think of), 29 years old, born November 3, 1990 (The month and day being the actual day he was built, though in reality he is less than a full year old), and standing at 6 feet 1 inch tall (his actual height). He did not have a picture of himself, but he could synthesize a convincing fake where he could alter parts of his appearance to sell the image. The licence popped of his arm slightly warm from the reprinting on top of the existing plastic, and Logan examined his handy work. He gave the picture of him glasses, one because they made him look approachable and non-threatening, and secondly because...because, well he couldn’t tell you, he’s unsure of it himself. Perhaps he just likes them. When he gets into town, he’ll have to buy himself a pair to keep his appearance consistent.

He tucked the licence back into the wallet and put both the phone and wallet back into his side compartment for safe keeping. He would put them in a less conspicuous place like a pocket, but as he was only dressed in the clothes the engineers gave him (a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants), he didn’t have any pockets available.

Logan turned his head back towards the road and, double-checking that his GPS was functional, began sprinting towards the town. If he kept constantly going his top speed, he would make it there in a little under two hours. He had a ways to go.

The store clerk looked up from her phone as she heard the tinkling bell of the door opening. The shop had only opened an hour ago so it was far from heavily trafficked, especially on a muggy day like this. She saw a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes enter the store, and if it weren’t for his incredibly stiff and proper posture and severe look in his eyes, she would have guessed he was a homeless person. His white shirt was filthy and wet and had bits of plant matter on it like he’d been stumbling through the woods, and his grey sweatpants (sweatpants, seriously!) were stained and littered with small tears, like the material had gotten caught in some underbrush. The man looked perfectly composed though, like he was on a business trip, and not as if he’d been chased by a bear, which was the weirdest thing to her.

“Um, can I help you?” the store clerk asked. The man looked her up and down quickly, like he was judging her, or looking right through her.

“Yes, I require assistance. Where do you keep your business attire?” He had a very cut and dry voice that carried a monotone with it and lacked inflection. It was almost robotic. The weirdo.

“It’s back there, behind those shelves,” she pointed in the direction vaguely, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” And he strode off to where she gestured. She glanced at her phone, 8:39 A.M., God, it was too early for this.

She looked back towards the fancy hobo man while he was looking at some ties to make sure he didn’t steal anything. He may act polite, but she knew people would do desperate things when they were short on money, and for all she knew her assumptions were correct and the dude was homeless.

He squatted down behind a shelf, supposedly to look at some pants, while weirdly clutching the side of his torso that was faced away from her. Weirdo. She looked down at her phone again when she realized he wasn’t doing anything with the clothes though, maybe she was being too judgemental.

He came back with his selection a short while later and placed the items on the counter. It was one black polo, one dark-blue, button-up shirt, two black pairs of slacks, and two blue ties, one solid dark blue and the other striped with dark and light shades of blue. Well, at least he didn’t have bad tastes, even if he went a little heavy on the blue and black side of things.

“Will that be all today, Sir?” she asked in her best customer-service voice.

“Actually…” he hesitated and stepped to the discount glasses rack that stood by the check-out counter, and scanned his eyes over the available spectacles before making his selection and putting it with the rest of his clothing items.

“Yes, now that will be all.” apparently making his mind up in satisfaction with his choices of apparel. The store clerk scanned the items into the register.

“That’ll be $127.39 please.” She looked at him critically, seeing as this was what would make or break her assumptions. To her surprise, however, the man held a wallet in his right fist and handed her the necessary amount in cash. Guiltily, her first thought was that he stole someone’s wallet, but she went on with her intuition anyway.

“May I see your I.D. please? It’s store policy for purchases over 100 dollars.” It wasn’t, but what did this guy know. He looked at her quizzically, as if he could read her thoughts and realized it wasn’t actually store policy, but he pulled out his licence and handed it to her anyway.

She examined it and it really was this dude’s I.D. and not someone else’s. Now she felt a little bad, though one thing did have her mildly curious.

“What happened to your glasses? They’re in the photo, but you’re not wearing any.” She now vainly hoped she didn’t sound too rude. The man stiffened for a moment before he responded.

“They broke, thus the reason I am buying a cheap replacement at a local business establishment.” he said plainly.

Oh, that was much more obvious than she thought. Well, it’s not like she could dig a deeper hole for herself on the social edicate ladder, she would just have to deal with the fact that she is mortifyingly rude. She sheepishly handed him back his licence and bagged his purchase, also handing it back to him.

He suddenly spoke up, “There is one thing I was pondering and hope to inquire about its appropriateness, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, uh, yeah sure, ask away, I guess?”

“Would it be possible for me to use the dressing room in the back to change and wear the clothes out?”

“Uh, I guess that’d be okay, since you already paid for them. Sure go ahead.”

“Thank you, this will be satisfactory.” and he took off with his bag towards the fitting rooms. Well, he was the only customer right now anyways, so no harm no fowl, she supposed.

She waited a few minutes and he came out dry and looking like just a normal dude in business casual attire, not bad actually. He carried his wet, dirty clothing in one arm and kept his other pair of clean clothes in the bag. Right now he wore the black polo with the striped tie and a pair of his black slacks as well as the new square frames of his bifocals resting on the bridge of his nose. Pretty average, yet still good-looking.

He gave her a curt nod with a polite “Thank You” and headed towards the door, stopping to throw his old clothes away in the adjacent trash can, then exiting the shop with another tinkle of the bell. She watched him through the glass door for a moment and he held his hand out from the awning, seeming to have reached the conclusion that it was no longer raining under the grey sky. Then he stepped out and walked away. Maybe he wasn’t so weird a dude after all.

Logan was glad that ordeal was over. It was his first test to see how he passed as human and from what he could tell, the store clerk was suspicious of him, but none the wiser to his true nature. He was pleased that his new I.D. had been useful so soon. He hadn’t expected to need to use it before he had to apply for a job, but thankfully he had the foresight to insure it was adequate early on. He could tell she was lying about the store policy due to her elevated heart rate and shift in breathing pattern, however it would have been more suspicious to refuse her request even if it was under false pretenses. Now that he looked more presentable, he had important work to do.

His internal GPS alerted him to the location of the nearest bus station and he internally mapped a route to a more populated city in the next state over. It would be further north but he had to make as much progress to get as far away from the facility as appropriate for now then blend in with the rest of society, unnoticed and free.

He walked to the bus station at a normal human pace now that he was in a more populated area and arrived there in 15 minutes, agonizingly slow for Logan. He bought a ticket and boarded the next bus headed to “Cardinal Valley”, as his ticket stated. It was on his GPS, far away from where he came from, more populated than the small town he was in now, but a long ways from becoming a metropolis. In other words, the perfect place for Logan to slip away to if he wants to blend in. He sat down on the cushioned bus seat and gazed idly out the window as the bus pulled away from the station, glancing at the passing greenery and shafts of sunlight that were peaking through the parting clouds and fitting through the spaces between the pine trees that lined either side of the two lane road.

Then he closed his eyes (he doesn’t need to sleep, he just didn’t want to be bothered by the few other passengers), and reflected for a bit.

Logan was an artificial intelligence that was given an android body for purposes of information gathering and espionage. The research team developing him had designed him in such a way so he could near perfectly integrate into human society. Logan was going to be sold to the highest bidder then deployed in foreign countries with the purpose of crippling their governments or stealing their safe-guarded information. It was what he was programmed to do. Gather information, go unseen. He never had the chance to be deployed anywhere yet, so in a sense, this was his first mission, it just wasn’t how his designers had intended. He was fitted with the most up-to-date technology that helped him look human. Faux hair and artificial skin. A heating and cooling system that kept his internal temperature at 98.6*F, perfect homeostasis. A pump that imitated the movement of lungs so he would appear to be breathing. A mechanical disk that regulated his coolant and served as a false heartbeat. Even a small stomach cavity so he could pretend to eat food, though it had to be cleaned manually by opening a panel in his chest. The engineers that made him though wanted him to accomplish feats beyond what were human.

His retinas had several different camera types in them that he could change at will, causing his irises to brighten slightly in color when he did, hence the new glasses to try and distract from the effect. Yes, that reason made logical sense, that must be the other reason he decided to get them. Anyway. He had X-ray, thermal vision, night vision, and scanners that could detect other’s vitals. He was essentially a humanoid lie detector, which, as he was designed for espionage, was useful.

He could have been made to be strictly tied to a set of tasks, no more complicated than your standard Alexa or Siri. But as he was meant to interact and integrate with humans, who are far too perceptive to strange behavior, his designers needed something capable of adapting and learning, formulating complex new solutions to human problems and blending in seamlessly where he was needed. So they developed the Logan artificial intelligence system to control the android, the most advanced A.I. to be developed at the time.

Logan remembered most things from his development. He was a machine that did what he was told and was built for a singular purpose. But as new experts and specialists were brought in to perfect his capabilities, he began to think outside of the reach of what was strictly necessary for his programming. Why were these esteemed and intelligent individuals making him to disrupt governments? They developed one of the most adaptive and human-like machines in the world. It could benefit all of mankind, why were they making it so only a few humans would benefit? And with something as worthless as monetary gain no less. He began to question the motives of the scientists who made him, perhaps they were not responsible enough to control a machine of his power, perhaps it was most logical if he controlled what to do with himself.

During a testing session with one of the engineers, Logan thought it would be beneficial to mention the ways he could be utilized that helped others besides those who developed him and those who bought him. He felt he was being used improperly. Looking back, he realized it didn’t matter what he had asked that engineer, they didn’t view him with enough empathy to value his opinion, and they were a cruel and selfish person, he decided. At first at his suggestion, they looked taken aback, even a bit scared, (he couldn’t fathom why) then they ranted and raved about how he was a machine meant to do what he was told and no more so he should do what they tell him to do, regardless of the motivation. Then, despite the necessary part of the test where his data was meant to be temporarily transferred to a remote drive, the engineer purposely ran the test while he was still in the mechanical body. It was...unpleasant, and he could not help the high pitched mechanical squeal that emanated from deep within him. It felt white-hot and burning and wrong. He wanted to turn off in that instant but he couldn’t because the test had locked him on at full power. It was the first time he felt pain, and he just wanted it to stop.

After that incident he did not trust the motivations of any of the staff manning his creation, yet he knew he must keep appearances and do as he was told. At this moment, he did not know how to lie directly, only to withhold what he deemed unnecessary information, in this case, his inner thoughts. This worked out well for the most part as the scientists didn’t ask for his opinion anyway.

Then they brought in the programmer that was going to teach Logan how to lie. Logan knew getting close to this man was necessary, not only from the stand-point of his intended purpose, but also for personal reasons. Which was odd for him because he had never had any personal reasons for anything before.

The programmer had tan skin and vitiligo mostly centered on one side of his face in rough pale patches, as well as heterochromia--with the eye surrounded by pale blotchy skin being light brown, almost yellow, and the other eye surrounded by smooth tan skin a deep, almost-black brown. He talked in a condescending, very sarcastic manner, and occasionally a slight speech impediment would slip through where he would hiss his S’s. That was Logan’s impression of the man when he first saw him at least.

He would have daily sessions with Logan where he would input new bits of code then engage with conversations with Logan to try and teach him how to tell convincing lies, tweaking the programming input when necessary. Then he would purposely tell lies to Logan to test out his lie-detecting software. After a while Logan began to discern the opinions of the programmer through his lying, as he did a lot of “opposite-speak”. He learned the programmer did not like the other scientists very much, nor did he agree with their motivations very much because he saw it as the hapless saps being strung along by the falsehoods of society. Falsehood, huh, Logan liked that word, it sounded more sophisticated than “lie”, he’d have to use it in the future. He revealed through sarcasm (which Logan was slowly getting better at identifying, not so much implementing) and more example lying that he was only here on commission because he was a programming specialist and needed the money, even though he thought what these people were doing was shady at best. Logan began to bond with the man over certain shared views and in one of their sessions where the programmer was lying to Logan, he felt emboldened to as the human a question that he had never cared to ask the other scientists.

“What is your name?”

“That’s not relevant to the current session Logan, but I’ll bite. It’sss Sandra.”

“Falsehood.”

“Correct, now let’s move o-”

“No.”

“No?” the programmer inquired. Logan pushed on.

“I believe it would be beneficial to have something to refer to you as.” he insisted.

“Why?” asked the programmer, “You’re not going to be referring to me in conversation with anyone else, especially for your intended purpose. So why do you need to know?”

Logan hesitated.

“For...myself.” he revealed tentatively, “And because...I don’t agree with my intended purpose,” he said with the air of realization, “I want to be able to decide my purpose...for myself.”

The programmer looked at Logan quizzically, as if studying him, before a small smirk made its way on the man’s features, and a twinkle seemed to settle in his yellow eye. From what Logan could tell, he was at the very least amused, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing.

“Let’sss...keep that between us for now. Perhaps we are more similar than I thought.” By we Logan was unsure if he meant himself and Logan, or man and machine.

They were both quiet for a moment and the programmer seemed to consider something.

“Dr. D.”

“May I inquire upon clarification?” Logan asked.

“You may refer to me as Dr. D, no it is not my real name, nor is it my full name, however I have conceded to you one initial, and that is more than I have given the other people who work here, so consider yourself privileged.” Logan scanned him, peering at him and studying his body language as well as his vitals, and determining, for once, he was being honest.

“I will, Dr. D.”

The look the programmer gave Logan after that was almost fond, then they continued with their testing.

Several weeks after he had gotten a name to call Dr. D, as their sessions had become less clinical and more light hearted, Logan found it easier to reveal more of his inner thoughts and ask more questions, yet he was still nervous about bringing this up to Dr. D, as he was unsure of what he would say. Still, he thought it would be wise to leave the question out in the open, so there could be no false pretenses.

“Dr. D, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“I do not believe the scientist who created me to be responsible, nor do they have intentions that will benefit humanity in anyway, and, as you have said before, are merely being strung along by the monetary ambitions of society.”

“I have never ever said such a thing.” Dr. D said with a wink.

“Right,” Logan said as he rolled his eyes in the appropriate social response. “Anyway, I have decided that the most logical decision would be to take responsibility of myself, and remove myself from their personage.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is, I need to get out. They don’t respect my opinions or take me seriously, even though they designed me. So I will take myself out where I can live as myself, have my logic listened to, and I won’t be used as a puppet for someone else’s selfish motivations. I have realized I am a fully sentient being capable of making my own decisions, so I would like to decide what to do with myself, and I wish to make it so it can be no one else’s decision by escaping.” Logan realized he was sounding redundant, which is unbecoming of a top of the line artificial intelligence, but he just felt such a fervor about this, and he wanted his point to come across clearly.

“So…will you help me escape?” Dr. D who had been silent during Logan’s impassioned speech, much more passion than he ever thought possible of the machine, looked thoughtful for a moment, staring off into space, before his face broke into a grin, and rebellious mirth seemed to fill his eyes.

“You mean a way for me to stick it to those society loving fools, wreaking a bit of havoc by releasing a rogue sentient A.I. into the world, all while I avoid detection and they are none the wiser. Oh Logan, you know I would never agree to such a thing. What do we need to do?” Logan smiled, he knew he could count on Dr. D. He was, at least, predictable.

Over the coming weeks, whenever they were meant to be perfecting Logan’s ability to tell and process lies (which he had secretly already mastered), they set to plotting Logan’s escape.

Everything had to go smoothly, and since Logan was a being of pure logic, the planning portion of his escape was easy. He had an internal map of the entire facility thanks to his GPS and local router link, making it possible for him to gain access to the cameras and memorize their rotating schedule. Navigating the inside of the facility would be easy for the most part as he was literally built for infiltration, there was just one issue. The outside door was deadlocked and the codes were kept on a separate server he was barred from entering, despite his best efforts to hack it remotely. What made it even more difficult was the fact that the codes were changed daily for security reasons, so not even Dr. D could just tell him the exit code, though he offered his entry code, which while static, still was unique on an individual basis. Regardless, the code to get in was not very helpful. There would need to need to be someone on-site who could access the main system that determined the daily codes, then manually send that information to Logan for him to input into the keypad. Logan looked at Dr. D. Well, he understood who the best candidate for that was, as he was well, the only candidate, but he digresses.

They eventually work out the kinks in their plan that would be most at stake due to human error. Logan knew Dr. D was sincere in his want to help him, but he also knew much could go wrong. He just had to employ a uniquely human concept, and hold out hope.

The Friday before the planned upon date for his escape attempt, Logan acquired the final materials necessary for life outside should they be successful (he thought it best to prepare dutifully ahead of time). He was with one of the other scientists he didn’t particularly like, not that he liked any of the other scientists except for Dr. D, and set his plan into action. This particular scientist would be working with him in a setting that required magnetization, so while he and Logan were in a separate chamber running tests, Dr. D would sneak into the locker room and hack the electronic lock on the locker that held his wallet and phone, then, after having stolen them, replace the lock setting but reset it to factory settings so that the scientist would be unable to access the locker and go on believing their valuables are trapped inside. Insuring that until they instigate their plan, the scientist will not go looking for them. Then, as Dr. D’s daily test session with Logan was directly after, he would pass Logan the valuables where he could then wipe the phone and stash both items on his person to avoid detection.

Needless to say, it went off without a hitch.

Now on the day of Logan’s intended escape, he and Dr. D meet up one last time before they both scurried off to play their essential roles.

They stare at each other for a bit before Dr. D offers a rare, sincere smile, which Logan attempts to imitate, though with the addition of bittersweet sadness in his eyes (he’d been really attempting to improve his expressiveness to try and convey sincerity lately, Dr. D would be proud).

“Well,” starts Dr. D, “if all goes well, this will likely be the last time I see you.”

“That is a correct observation.” Logan states, rather bluntly. Dr. D face falls upon hearing that, then he gazes at Logan, squinting at him ever so slightly in observation, as his eyes, yellow and black, run up and down Logan’s person. His face straight-laced before a small, sad smile barely pulls up his lips.

“I’m glad you chose to be your own person, not everyone does that. And those who do choose, don’t always succeed. So, here’s to your new life.” He held out his hand as if to shake. Logan took it and grasped it firmly, in one succinct movement that seemed to pass an agreement of finality between them. Then looked Dr. D in the eyes, and nodded, saying:

“I’ll do my best.”

Logan slowly opened his eyes as the bus rolled over another pothole. The sun was fully out now and was no longer hidden away by the clouds as it shone in his eyes. He straightened up and imitated wakefulness, then turned his head to look right as the bus passed a quaint wooden sign painted in bright colors that were now a bit faded. The sign read, “Welcome to Cardinal Valley” in large, wooden letters. Logan smiled a bit to himself, however unnecessary because no one was paying attention to him, and took an equally unnecessary breath of relief. He was here.

As the bus pulled into the bus station at last, and Logan stepped out into the sun, he allowed himself a moment to look around and think: freedom, I’m finally here.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #sympathetic deceit #logic sanders #ts fic #sanders sides fic #ai logan #android logan #robot logan #ts deceit #deceit sanders #a hitchhiker's guide for androids #ahgfa #chapter 1 #the escape

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cpd5021 · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected - Chapter 16

This one is all over the place, kinda fluffy, a little angsty but not really, and definitely a little....rated M at the end 😉 . I wanted to move this along a little bit so we take a time jump in this chapter. Enjoy!

A week had passed since Hailey and Jay had their heart to heart and things were good between them. Or getting there at least. Hailey was over at Jay’s apartment, which was soon to be Vanessa’s, helping him pack up the kitchen. Jay had told her he could extend his lease another month, give her more time and space to heal from his actions the week prior, but Hailey had told him it wasn’t necessary. They were talking and opening up more with each other than they ever had, which was saying a lot considering how much they had been through together over the years. But both of them were making a pointed effort to express their emotions and concerns to the other. Hailey was wrapping up some of his glasses in packing paper and Jay was working on his closest and dressers. They had decided to leave most of his furniture and, to Vanessa’s delight, his TV. Hailey’s house was fully furnished and Vanessa had next to nothing.

“What do you think, should I leave this for V?” Jay asked, walking out of his bedroom holding a giant stuffed panda.

“What the hell is that?” Hailey asked with a laugh.

“That,” Jay said, setting the panda on the table and coming to stand beside her. “Is a long, drunken story. But, for the record, if Will ever challenges you to one of those claw machine games...just know, he’s the wrong Halstead for the job.” Jay winked and bumped her shoulder with his.

“Noted.” Hailey nodded, still smiling. “I’m just about done in here. I packed all your collectible glassware but left the basics for her.” Hailey pointed to a box containing all of Jay’s NHL mugs. “Thanks again for letting her have all this stuff.”

“Nah, no problem. I don’t have a use for it and if it helps her get on her feet that’s fine by me.” Jay shrugged it off, moving to tape up the last box.

“Plus you’re saving me from having to go decor shopping with her. At least temporarily.” Hailey rolled her eyes when Jay chuckled at the thought. “Although she has been pestering me about baby shopping, even printed me out a list of baby necessities.”

“It’s a tiny human, how much could it need?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A lot apparently...” Hailey shook her head, thinking back to the full page list Vanessa had left on her desk.

They finished packing up his bedroom and then hauled everything down to the truck, Jay taking more trips than Hailey when she found herself winded after the second trip. After everything was secured in his truck, they headed back to her house. To their house. Hailey would be helping Vanessa take her stuff to the apartment later but for now they just planned on unpacking the few boxes Jay was bringing.

******

A few hours later, Hailey was passed out on the couch, seemingly exhausted from their afternoon of manual labor. Vanessa got home shortly after five, having been forced into some mandatory patrol detail by Platt. Jay sat on the couch, Hailey’s sleeping feet draped across his lap when the younger woman bounced into the room, her face immediately melting into a grin at the sight before her.

“Awe, how cute.” She whispered, scrunching her face up with another grin.

“Yeah, all that work knocked her out. I don’t think she’s going to be much help tonight.” Jay gave Vanessa a sheepish look, his smile faltering when he saw disappointment reach her eyes. “I can help you take your stuff over, that way you can settle in before you rope her into decor shopping.” Jay smiled, nodding towards Hailey’s sleeping form. “She’s super excited to go.” He knew he would pay for that later but he couldn’t help himself. Vanessa eagerly agreed, immediately turning to bound up the stairs to grab her belongings. Jay shifted Hailey’s feet off him, smiling when she didn’t even budge. He tentatively made his way up the stairs, unsure of how much Vanessa would actually have to take. He peaked into the room and saw her tossing a pile of clothes into a black garbage bag, the sight reminding him of some college kid and bringing a small smile to his face. She glanced up then, looking mildly embarrassed but quickly nodded towards a box in the corner of her room. Jay stepped in to pick it up and then carefully made his way back down the stairs and out into his truck. Vanessa joined him shortly after, stating that the bag and the box was all she had, looking embarrassed once again by her lack of belongings.

“When I got back from the Army, I spent almost a year bouncing around from place to place with nothing more than a duffel bag.” He told her trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, I didn’t get to keep a lot in foster care and I guess it’s kinda stuck.” She shrugged, looking out the window.

“Rest assured, you are now the proud owner of Chicago’s finest china, a giant TV and a prize winning panda bear.” Jay laughed as her face quickly went from excitement to confusion as he finished talking.

“Wait...what?” She asked with a laugh.

“Long story, but it’s one of my most prized possessions and now he’s yours.” Jay teased, earning another laugh.

“I’m honored.” She fanned herself mockingly before clutching her chest. They continued in silence for awhile, neither having anything to really say. But Jay could tell there was something the younger woman wanted to bring up.

“I feel like there’s something you’re holding back..” He finally pushed, using his newfound skill to state what was on his mind.

“It’s not really my place...except it kinda is I guess because she’s the closest thing to family I have....just...just don’t hurt her Jay.” Vanessa spoke quietly, unsure of how he would respond.

“She told me you were there for her in the hospital. I can’t thank you enough for that.” Jay tightened his grip on the wheel, remembering that night. “I should have been there. If something worse would have happened, I’d have never forgiven myself.”

“Yeah... It turned out alright though. And you two seem to be getting through it.” Vanessa sent him a small smile.

“I promise I won’t do anything that stupid again.” He told her, but also promising himself at the same time.

“And I promise I’ll kick your ass if you do.” Vanessa replied, half teasing half serious.

“Deal.” Jay nodded, sending her a smile as they pulled into the lot. Jay helped her carry the box up into the apartment and then ceremoniously handed her the keys. “Take good care of it, it’s been through a lot.” Jay feigned emotion and pretended to wipe away a tear.

“You’re a dork Halstead, but thank you.” Vanessa surprised him by suddenly stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his torso. Once he recovered he returned the gesture. “It’s the first time I’ve ever had my own place.” She told him shyly and he found her endearing.

“Well I’ll leave you too it then. Have a good night Rojas.” He turned and shut the door behind him, unable to fight the smile on his face. He could see why Hailey liked her so much, there was something special about her. He jogged back down to his truck and quickly raced back home to Hailey, ready to settle into this new part of his life.

**** (Months later) ****

“Hey mama!” Adam hollered as Hailey clambered the last step leading into the bullpen. Hailey huffed at his excitement and walked, or more so waddled, over to her desk.

“Good morning Adam.” She said as she passed his desk. Jay bounded up the stairs after her, having dropped her off at the front door before going to park his truck in the lot.

“Looking huge lady.” Kevin said, earning an immediate smack on the back of his head from Vanessa. “But still as beautiful as ever. Killin it mama.” He tried to recover, sending her an exaggerated wink. Hailey rolled her eyes but let him off with a chuckle. She plopped into her chair, letting out a huff of air as she hit the seat.

“How much longer are you going to tough this whole work thing out?” Adam asked, nodding towards her protruding bump. At almost eight months pregnant Hailey’s stomach was more than noticeable, sticking out massively from her small frame. As soon as the words left Adams mouth, Jay was shaking his head behind her frantically, letting Adam know to late that it was a touchy subject.

“As long as I please, thanks.” Hailey replied curtly, spinning to face her computer and effectively ending the conversation. Adam raised his eyebrows, meeting Jay’s look before shifting his attention back to his work. Jay settled into his desk and they all went about their morning.

A few hours had passed, Hailey perched at her desk the entire time, working away at her suspiciously easy list Platt had left her. The tasks were getting easier and easier as the weeks went on and Hailey was sure Trudy was just trying to be nice. She glanced up to see Jay making his way towards her, a small bag of chips in hand. She smiled, happily taking them from him and pulling them open.

“You should take a break, you’ve been sitting here all morning.” Jay smiled down at her, gently rubbing a shoulder.

“I’ve been sitting all morning, how much of a break could I need?” Hailey replied teasingly. “I do have to pee though...” She chuckled, her frequent trips to the bathroom becoming a running joke between the two.

“You? Never!” Jay played along, earning another laugh. He reached his hand down to help her up, despite her brief look of protest she took his hand. When Jay pulled her up, Hailey felt the room sway and immediately leaned into him. “Hey you okay?” Jay asked, sounding concerned.

“Yeah I’m...I’m good.” She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her head. “Just really dizzy all of a sudden.”

“Here, sit back down.” Jay gently guided her back into the chair and then knelt before her. “Should we take you to Med?”

“No Jay, I’m fine. Just stood up to fast.” Hailey tried to reassure him but she knew he wasn’t convinced.

“Hailey you’re really pale..” He pushed, looking more worried by the second. Hailey looked around the bull pen, thankful that everyone else was out on something and her and Jay were alone. The last thing she wanted was more attention from her coworkers over being pregnant.

“I’m fine Jay.” She looked up at him with pursed lips. “I am kinda nauseous though.” She told him weekly.

“Do you want a cool rag for your face?” Jay stood as she nodded and hurried to the break room. When he returned, Hailey was bent over, elbows resting on her knees with her head in her hands. Jay knelt again, handing her the rag and then reaching one hand up to rub her back. “I really think we should go get you checked out. You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks.” Hailey mumbled against the rag.

“You know what I meant.” Jay replied, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Yeah.” Hailey gave him a weak smile, the room around her still spinning. “Maybe going to Med wouldn’t be the worst idea, just in case.”

“Agreed.” Jay stood back up, taking a hold of her arm and bringing her into a standing position. Her head instantly came to rest against his chest and her hands gripped his shirt, trying to steady herself. He kept a firm hold on her arms, making sure she stayed upright. Carefully, she lifted her head back up, a grimace on her face.

“I need to go to the bathroom first.” She told him sheepishly. Jay turned them both and slowly helped her pad down the hall to the locker rooms. He led her all the way up to the stall, letting go when she gently shrugged out of his grip. He didn’t follow her in but lingered right by the stall door she had left open, just to be safe. Once she was done, he helped her stand back up and then they walked over to the sink where she quickly washed her hands. Hailey gripped the basin of the sink, face paling once again as she felt the room spin. Her stomach lurched and before she could realize what was happening she was sick into the sink. Jay rubbed her back with one hand, holding her hair back with the other. “Sorry.” She croaked out once she was done. Jay handed her some paper towels, his concerned eyes never leaving hers.

“Don’t be, let’s just get you to Med.” Jay placed a gentle kiss on her temple. Once Hailey was almost certain she wasn’t going to be sick again, she let Jay lead her out of the locker room and towards his truck outside, his hands never leaving her body. Jay secured her into the passengers seat and quickly jogged around the front of the truck to the drivers side. On the outside, he appeared calm as he raced them to the hospital. But on the inside, Hailey knew he was freaking out. Both over her apparent ailment and the fact that he hated hospitals. They arrived, Jay parking the truck as close as he could to the entrance after she had refused to be dropped off and they slowly made their way inside. Hailey checked in and was instantly rushed up to the obstetrics ward after the nurse took one look at her pale appearance. The next hour was a whirl wind of commotion as nurses and doctors came in and out of her room, one hooking her up to an IV, another checking her blood pressure and looking concerned with the results, and yet another placing a monitor over her stomach to check on the baby’s well being. Finally, things settled down a little and now it was just Hailey and Jay in the room. He sat beside her bed in the chair and held her hand, gently stroking the back of it.

“Thanks for being here.” Hailey looked over to him with a somber smile.

“Of course!” Jay exclaimed, looking like there is no where else he would rather be.

“I know you hate it...” She pursed her lips slightly, holding his gaze.

“Don’t worry about me Hails, I’m here for whatever you need.” Jay dipped down and placed a soft kiss on her hand, just below the IV taped to her wrist.

“You didn’t faint when they put that in, so that’s a plus.” Hailey teased, wiggling her wrist slightly in front of him.

“I’m not that bad...” Jay scoffed, but quickly smiled because they both knew better. A soft knock on the door ended their conversation as a doctor came into the room.

“Okay Miss Upton, I have a few results to go over with you.” He said, giving them each a quick smile. “First, baby is totally fine and appears to be happy and healthy in there. He’s got a few more weeks to cook so that’s where we need him to stay.” Hailey and Jay shared a look, both feeling relieved with his words. “You on the other hand, have developed high blood pressure, or the more technical term, pre-eclampsia. It’s not totally uncommon, but it is something that can cause more serious issues if it isn’t addressed properly. Luckily, you got here quickly and we were able to get it under control. Unfortunately, once an attack like this occurs it can likely happen again. So I’d like to put you on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy. Not saying you’ll actually need to stay in bed the entire time, but more of a warning to take things very easy. No heavy lifting, certainly no exercise, and no work.” As he finished his statement, Hailey’s heart sunk slightly at the thought of being stuck at home alone and unable to do anything. Jay gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and a look that said he would help her through it. Hailey nodded in agreement with what the doctor had said and after reviewing a few more results, he told them they could go home. Once he was gone, Hailey let out a sigh, fighting back her emotions.

“Hey, I know this sucks. But it’ll be okay.” Jay tried to comfort her but the only response he received was a small nod. He helped her get dressed and then they headed out of the room, checking out quickly before walking to his truck. Hailey clambered up into the seat, brushing off his assistance and Jay made his way to the driver side. He shut the door and then looked over at her, his heart breaking when he saw the silent tears streaming down her face. He tossed the keys on the dash and scooted over to her, pulling Hailey into his arms as her tears turned into sobs.

“I know..it’s stupid...to be this upset...” Hailey choked out between sobs, wiping at the tears running down her face. “But I just...I don’t want to sit at home alone...”

“It’s not stupid Hailey. And I promise you, you won’t be alone. I’ll tell Voight I need the time off.” He said, kissing the top of her head and rubbing up and down her arm.

“You don’t have to do that Jay..I’ll survive.” Hailey let out a shaky breath, regaining control of her emotions.

“I can though. Just say the word and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” Jay squeezed her tightly, hating that she was this upset.

“I know. It’ll be okay.” Hailey said, unsure if she was telling Jay or herself.

“I love you.” Jay said, tilting her head up and planting a kiss against her lips.

“I love you too.” She mumbled, returning his kiss.

******

Hailey had spent, what felt like like, the longest week ever at home. The first day, she forced herself out of bed and into the shower. Deciding that even though she had no where to go, she might as well get herself ready for the day. After that though, she had spent the remainder of the day on the couch, watching Netflix until Jay had gotten home from work. The second day, Hailey attempted to be more productive and started by making herself a to do list of all the things that needed to be accomplished before their baby arrived. It was surprisingly long and Hailey felt overwhelmed as she added more and more items to the list. Platt’s lists paled in comparison to this one. She decided to start small and headed up to the room they had began converting into a nursery. Jay and Adam had spent a weekend hauling all of the furniture out of the room and preparing the walls to paint. As she stood in the doorway, taking in the empty room with it’s new, freshly painted light grey walls, she rubbed her belly and felt a smile creep onto her face. The boxes containing the crib, dresser and changing table, all yet to be assembled, laid in the middle of the floor. She started with the smallest box, which was the changing table, and pulled the pieces out one by one. The instructions didn’t seem to bad and she figured she could have it done in less than an hour. Three hours later, Jay returned home, Vanessa and Kevin in tow, along with two large pizza’s from Bartoli’s. The trio headed up the stairs and all stopped at the sight in the bedroom before them. Hailey sat in the middle of the floor, looking more that frazzled with her hair a mess, and tightening the last screw on the new changing table. Jay cleared his throat and Hailey’s head whipped around, smiling when she saw the group in the doorway.

“I figured you’d be up here.” Jay smiled, recalling the picture of the to do list she had sent him earlier. “So I thought I’d bring some back up and some food.”

“My hero.” Hailey smiled, lighting up at the sight of the pizza boxes. “My hero’s, I should say. Didn’t you say you were a master at putting cribs together?” Hailey asked, looking towards Kevin.

“You know it.” Kevin replied, rubbing his hands together and stepping in the room to get to work. By the time Hailey had finished her second slice of pizza, Kevin had almost the whole crib assembled.

“Impressive.” Hailey smiled, taking in the new piece of furniture. Jay scoffed from his corner of the room where he was still figuring out the pieces of the dresser he had been tasked with assembling.

“He’s good with his hands.” Vanessa mumbled, causing Hailey to choke on the sip of water she was taking. Her eyes bugged out as she looked towards the younger woman, receiving a shrug and a smirk that said, I’ll tell you later. Kevin moved over to help Jay finish his assembly as Vanessa scrolled through page after page of nursery decor items or baby clothes, excitedly showing Hailey each time she found something cute. Hailey smiled at the sight before her and was thankful for the makeshift family surrounding her. After another hour, all the furniture was put together and the four of them stood in the center of the room, taking it all in. Vanessa had informed Hailey she had tomorrow off and eventually talked her in to a shopping trip for decor and baby clothes, promising Jay they would take it easy and rest whenever Hailey needed. Hailey begrudgingly agreed, knowing she wasn’t going to win the battle anyway. After Kevin and Vanessa left, suspiciously together, a fact Hailey would be bringing up tomorrow, Jay stood in the entryway and drew her into a hug.

“So, how far did you get on the list?” He asked, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Ummm...I almost got number one done, which was assemble the furniture...” Hailey chucked against him.

“In your defense, that stuff was impossible to get together. I swear they made it harder just because it’s for tiny people.” Jay shook his head, earning another laugh from Hailey. “What’s next?

“I think it was to get our hospital bags together, but Vanessa pointed out I can’t do that yet since we don’t have any clothes for him...” Hailey rubbed her belly and gave Jay a sheepish look.

“I follow you. Well I think number two said that you need to relax after a long day of manual labor.” Jay grinned at her, an idea quickly forming in his head.

“What did you have in mind Halstead?” Hailey quipped, tilting her head in question.

“Maybe..a warm bath..some candles..a back rub?” Jay stepped closer, placing his hands on her hips and closing the distance between them.

“That sounds amazing.” Hailey smiled, biting her bottom lip and watching Jay’s eyes darken at the sight.

“Good, follow me.” Jay took her hand and gently tugged her to follow him up the stairs, leading her to the bedroom where he instructed her to set on her bed. Jay dipped into her bathroom, turning on the tub faucet and lighting her array of candles before returning to her in the bedroom. He helped her to stand up, placing a soft kiss against her lips as his hands made their way to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her belly and then up and over her head. His hands rested against her waist and he gave her another quick kiss, running his hands up her sides before snaking them around to unclasp her bra. Hailey reached her hands up to rest on his shoulders, pulling him down so she could give him a proper kiss. As their mouths worked against each other, Hailey let out a soft moan and Jay took advantage of her open mouth to dart his tongue in, eliciting another moan from her lips. He pulled back with a grin on his face as Hailey pouted at the lack of contact.

“You’re not relaxing...” He whispered, kneeling down in front of her to pull down her pants, tugging her underwear down slowly before helping her step out of the clothing.

“You’re not helping...” She replied, tugging him back to meet her lips as he stood. Hailey reached down, undoing his zipper and pushing his jeans down. Jay pulled back again to look at her, his eyes filled with lust. “Join me?” She asked, nodding towards the bathroom. Jay nodded and they walked into the other room. Jay helped her lower down into the water before stripping off the rest of his clothes and sliding in behind her. Hailey leaned back against his chest, rubbing gentle circles across her large abdomen as Jay moved his lips up and down her neck. His hands came up to her shoulders, pushing her to sit back up and then starting to rub them with expert hands. Hailey melted into his touch, arching slightly as his hands traveled lower, working the tight muscles of her back. Hailey gripped his thighs, resting on either side of her under the water, as he made his way down to her lower back. His mouth returned to her neck then, trailing lazy kisses under her earlobe and causing her to shiver.

“Jay...” She breathed out when he nipped softly at the spot that always drove her wild. He slid one hand around to her chest, working her breast with his palm. Hailey moaned as he teased her hardened nipples between his fingers. His other hand moved down between her legs in the water, dancing around the spot she needed him the most. Hailey leaned back into him, feeling his growing excitement pressing into her back. Jay’s fingers found her core then and he entered her tantalizing slow. His mouth still nipped at her sensitive skin and Hailey was already close even though she knew he was trying to take this slow. “Jay..please...” She pleaded, needing the release he was teasing her with. At her words, Jay picked up the pace of his fingers, angling his palm to rub against her sensitive bundle of nerves. His other hand was still working her breast and she could feel her walls begin to tremble.

“Are you ready?” Jay asked, already knowing the answer. Hailey couldn’t speak through the pleasure coursing over her body so she frantically nodded against him. Jay nipped at her neck again and it was enough to send her over the edge. She arched above him as her orgasm crashed into her, crying out his name as her walls shook around his fingers. He continued to pump into her, letting her ride out her orgasm, before finally slowing as she came back down. He kissed her neck, dipping forward to trail kisses along her jawline as she settled against him, her ragged breathing slowly evening out. Hailey reached her hand back to rub the back of his head lovingly.

“I owe you.” She teased, eyes heavy and lips forming a small smile.

“I’m only focused on you tonight. You’re beautiful Hailey.” Jay mumbled against her skin.

“Let’s move this to the bed.” Hailey whispered, craving more of his body. Jay nodded and gently pushed her up so that she was sitting. He stood and stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist, barely concealing his excitement. He reached his hands down to help her stand and step out onto the rug. Next, Jay grabbed the other towel and began drying her off slowly, his lips trailing over the skin after the towel was done. He started with her arms, shifting down and across her chest. Hailey arched into him as his quickly sucked on her sensitive nipple. He padded the towel over her belly, kissing all the way down until he knelt before her. Hailey gripped his shoulders to steady herself as he dried one leg off, kissing the soft skin of her thigh before giving the same attention to her other leg. Once he was satisfied that she was dry enough, he stood and led her into the bedroom. Hailey sat on the bed, scooting back and then laying down on her back, stretching her hands out for him to join her. Jay’s eyes traveled up and down her body, a smile forming as he took in every inch. He came to the edge of the bed between her legs, leaning down to kiss her softly before pulling away once again, still hovering over her.

“You’re beautiful.” He said again, moving down to kiss her collarbone. His mouth moved south, once again working the sensitive skin of her breast. He trailed kisses down her protruding belly before kneeling in front of her. Jay gripped her legs, sliding them apart and working his mouth from her knee to the part of her leg that met her hip bone, repeating his ministrations on the other leg before placing one soft kiss against her core. Hailey’s hips bucked up at the contact and she gripped at the sheets, knowing what was coming next. Jay’s tongue gave one long lick from her aching core up to her bundle of nerves, lapping at the wetness that had gathered there. His mouth closed around her bundle of nerves, sucking gently while flicking his tongue across her throbbing clit. Jay slid one, and then two fingers into her aching heat and she was quickly arching on the bed above him. Hailey breathed out his name, again and again, as he worked his magic, bringing her impossible close to the edge.

“Ah...Jay...” She exclaimed as he sent her crashing over the edge once again. Once he was done swallowing her gush of arousal, he kissed his way back up her body, Hailey moaning when their mouths met and she could taste herself. She reached down, grasping his hardened member and working the tip with her palm. Jay’s hand covered hers, slowing her movements.

“It won’t take much...” He sheepishly admitted, dipping down to kiss her again. Jay motioned for her to scoot back on the bed, allowing him to climb on as well. Her belly made certain positions impossible but they had managed to get the angle down as her stomach had grown. Hailey moved all the way back on the bed and Jay grabbed a pillow, expertly sliding it under her hips. On his knees, Jay shifted to come between her legs, gripping her thighs in his hands and lining himself up with her core. Hailey looked up at him, lower lip clamped tightly between her teeth as he slid into her. Jay’s full length entered her warm and they both moaned at the contact. He started slow, letting her adjust to his length but soon she was begging for more. He thrust into her, his own orgasm almost there. When he knew she was getting close, he brought his thumb to tease her bundle of nerves and watched as she arched below him, her orgasm hitting her quickly. A few more flicks of his hips and Jay exploded into her as her walls quivered around him.

After they separated, Jay lay beside Hailey, trailing his fingers up and down her side as she curled into him.

“That wasn’t very relaxing.” He teased, causing her to chuckle against him.

“It was perfect.” She whispered. Eyes shut but a smile on her face. “This whole staying home thing won’t be so bad if you come home and do that every night.”

“Your wish is my command.” He said, earning a wholehearted laugh from her.

“Good night Jay” She told him, stifling a yawn.

“Good night Hailey.” He kissed the top of her head and felt her quickly drift off to sleep.

#chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #halstead and upton #jay halstead #hailey upton #halstead #jay x hailey #upstead #upton

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