#drawing them is an entirely different beast but I can at least plan out her Skills and Passives ...

[throughpatchesofviolet]

I am thinking about so many different AUs, IDs, and E.G.O, right now ... if only I had more time in a day. Then maybe we'd see these ideas assume a more tangible form.

[bakushinverse]

シン•ビオランテ Shin Biollante  [Queen of Thorns]

“It's Shin Gojira! That damn creature is back!”

“No, this is different, this is, it's some kind of plant! But fused with Shin Godzilla's flesh, if we don't stop it, it's going to over run the entire Amazon Rainforest!”

Possibly the most powerful and horrific creation of Shin Gojira, Shin Biollante was the result of Shin Gojira's Crystal-Space form splitting in two. The split left Shin Gojira's body a shadow of its former self, the enormous nuclear reactor in its stomach taken by Biollante along with the vast majority of its mass, leaving him smaller than his fourth form and severally crippled, relying on Krystalak power cores to stabilise his power until adapting. Despite this, Biollante was loyal to her parent and under his orders, blasted open a portal to the Amazon Rainforest to wreak havoc and draw attention away from the Monarch Base in Antarctica so Shin Gojira could enact his plan to take control of the Kiryu MechaGodzilla as a new host for its body.

Biollante was soon confronted by a huge contingency of Monarch and UN forces who desperately attempted to fight her. Attempts were made to burn down the forest however that only made the Bio monster furious due to the intense pain it caused, causing her to lash out and wipe out 90% of the human forces by releasing toxic spores which cocooned them into energy sources for herself or by melting their flesh and bones with her acidic sap. Rodan and Baragon appeared to fight her, causing her to spare the remaining humans including Dr Vivienne Graham and her pilot, Akane Yashiro.

Baragon and Rodan fought against the Bio Monster viciously, however Biollante proved to be an immensely powerful and lethal foe, grievously impaling Baragon before almost killing him by strangling him with her vines. Rodan stepped in and saved the guardian beast before proceeding to attack her nuclear core which he noticed she was protecting. Noticing this, he proceeded to fire a super charged Uranium Heat Ray beam into her core, causing her to implode and threatening to inflict a disaster with the fall out of the explosion. Rodan however caused a massive tornado which allowed the explosion and the fallout to dissipate upwards rather than across the rainforest.

Dr Graham returns to Japan, reporting on the incident and requesting that Project Jaguar is giving full priority. She grows concerned that there is no word from Serizawa. Serizawa tries to communicate with the Shin Gojiran, Adam, whose dorsal plates glow purple and declares: “Do as you will. I am.”

Height:

Beast Form - 180m

Travel Form - Varies from spores to kms of vines

Attributes:

Psychic link with Shin Gojira

Can generate Black Holes however this drains power

Lacks the psychic powers of her parent

Acidic Sap

Self sustaining nuclear core

Can assimilate any organic living being and add it to her mass or use it as energy

Biollante cannot control the Gojirans or Krystalaks however Shin Gojira has no issues with her eating her own siblings.

Can plant tentacles to into the ground to mimic trees and plants to trap creature to use as energy sources.

Toxic spores and pollen

Possibly the only life form Shin Gojira saw as family or at least a companion. Shin Gojira is notably distressed after her death acting more erratically and violently.

Biollante is protective of Shin Gojira and has an undying loyalty to her parent. This will not stop her voicing doubts about his plans though.

__________________ ShinMonsterVerse Series FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT __________________

[vaporeon-is-cool]

I need to get this idea out of my head because it’s been floating around my thoughts non-stop

I thought up a The Sea Beast AU where Sea Beasts have human forms and Crow finds a sea beast baby (Red’s daughter) in their human form inside of a cave like nine years prior to finding Jacob and raises the two as siblings.

(In human form the only signs telling that someone is a sea beast is from the color of their eyes and a colored horn protruding from their forehead.)

At first, Crow thinks the baby has been abandoned by their human parents so, of course he takes pity on the child, thinking that the least he can do is leave them with a children’s home.

But upon noticing the horn, he thinks maybe they’re the offspring of a siren or a mermaid (cuz come on if sea beasts exist there’s bound to be those too if not rumors/myths of them at least), he refuses to kill the child for fear it might bring bad luck and tries to return the child to where he found it but can’t bring himself to ignore the shrill cries the baby lets out as he attempts to leave, so, he’s resigned himself to dad duty until the child grows up into a proper mythical creature lol.

Except that doesn’t happen as planned: the child doesn’t grow scales/gills or sharp teeth or sing songs that draws one into a trance or become half fish when placed in water, they’re basically just a human girl with irises an impossible shade of color and a black horn slowly growing out of their forehead.

So—back to his original thought—Crow begins to think that the girl (whom he named Armeria) is neither siren nor mermaid but is a human who’s been cursed for their parent’s dealings with Gwen Batterbie (like maybe they were expecting parents and Hunters who were desperate enough to visit Batterbie requesting for her to make a potion that would allow them to defeat any sea beast and boom “your baby is a sea beast now, this is what you wanted >:)” but the parents didn’t understand that it was the result of Batterbie’s potion so they were horrified/disgusted of their newborn child and abandoned them in the cave.

Only it wasn’t that, either.

It was actually Red who placed her sleeping newborn in the cave—in a spot snug where she knew they wouldn’t be able to roll into the sea by accident—in the area where she was hunting for food.

Red didn’t leave her baby back on Monster Island because there was no one to watch them (still debating on whether this is bcuz the dad/her mate was killed by Hunters 😢 or if he was just busy patrolling another part of the Dregmorr 🤔).

Red doesn’t notice until it is too late because she was hunting veeeeeeery deep down under the ocean but she does determine that it was humans who’d done the deed (smelt their scent) this plays a big part in why Red hates humans and will attack hunting ships on sight.

But back to Crow and his “cursed” daughter, he treats her with his own brand of love just the same as Jacob, raising them to be fine Hunters, the entire crew of the Inevitable knows of Armeria’s “curse” and is ride-or-die for her so she’s never felt wrong or excluded.

It isn’t until the Brickleback fight at the beginning of the movie when Jacob and his sister are smacked by that one tendril/tentacle into the ocean that Armeria transforms into her sea beast form for the first time (which is basically a black recolor of Red with a slightly different shaped horn and eyes a softer shade of yellow, she takes after her father).

Armeria is dazed at first from the sudden change so she doesn’t gather her bearings until around the time Crow kills the Brickleback and is the one to help Crow, and Jacob, get back to the surface.

The crew recognize the horn immediately as Armeria’s, believing this is just another part of the curse placed on her but since there’s nothing they can do Crow orders her to lie low until the Inevitable returns from repairs.

The story goes on like normal until the first fight with Red, which still ends with her swallowing the lifeboat, so Armeria swims after Red to get Jacob and Maisie back but to her surprise finds herself learning of her true heritage and family after reaching Monster Island. :)

That’s all I’ve got for now. 😁

[lilxberry]

Lost Then Found - Bofur

Requested By: @prestongoodplayisbabey​

Could I have a Bofur x reader where the reader gets lost (she’s part of the company) and when Bofur and the rest find her she’s eating a bear she caught with her own hands? I loved ur fic for @iwazoomingouttahere 💕

It’s probably a little different to what you were expecting but who doesn’t love a surprise amiright?! Also, I’m really glad that you liked the other fic so much that you wanted to request something for yourself so I hope that you like it

Warnings: A lil bit sad, wouldn’t say angsty though. Fluff. Mentions of death (animal). Mentions of blood. Mentions Bofur without his hat lmao. I think that’s it, don’t quote me on that.

Words: 2,713

Pairings: Bofur x Reader (female reader)

_______________

It was definitely NOT your fault when you had become separated from the company. Everyone takes a wrong turn occasionally and loses the entire group they were travelling with. Right? It’s not like you heard a strange noise a bit away and went to investigate and when you returned, you found that they pressed on without you. If anything, it’s THEIR fault you were now separated from you. The big knuckleheads are completely oblivious sometimes. Anywho, that isn’t the point. It most certainly, definitely, absolutely WASN’T your fault.

Honestly, you actually had no clue in which direction they took off in but nevertheless, you followed your gut. They’re quite the noisy bunch so it shouldn’t be too hard to find them if you were on the right track. So, when you hear no rowdy group of 13 dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard, you deducted that you either went the wrong way of they finally learnt the meaning of the word silence.

_______________

You huffed as you sat down on the damp ground as you were surrounded by forestry. The towering trees and shrubbery provided great cover for when you slept alone at night. You brought your knapsack that contained your bedroll over to your side where you rested against the mossy tree. You wrestle your bedroll from its confinement within your sack and roll it out, ready for when you rest when it gets darker.

As you finish up sorting your sleeping arrangement, you turned and looked at the slight clearing which you’ve chosen to set up camp before groaning slightly and setting out ready to find whatever you could for kindling the fire you plan to build. You set out slightly away from where you’ve set up your bedroll and knapsack and begin searching the ground for anything that isn’t to damp and will burn.

All you can think about as you collect fuel for your campfire is of the company, more specifically, a certain dwarf who had captured your heart with his whittling, singing and goofy hat that never leaves his head. You sigh, wondering if he even cared that you had disappeared, if any of them cared really. You had been separated for almost a week, surely, they noticed at least.

You shake your head. ‘Of course, they care.’ You groaned as you realised you practically came to a standstill as your mind wandered instead of doing what you intended on doing so. You look at the singular stick within your hand and huff. “It’s gonna be a long night…”

_______________

Bofur’s mood had been off lately, everyone could tell, especially his brother and cousin. They all dearly missed Y/N and were concerned about where she is now and whether she is safe, but it’s Bofur who’s losing his mind over his missing One.

Bofur knew the moment he first laid on the girl that she was his One, he almost instantly confided in his brother and cousin about the subject. He even asked Balins’ ear off over what he should do. He loved how Y/N’s smile always happened to brighten up his day, or how her laugh could lure any man for it was easily mistakable for a sirens call.

He even loved how she was the only person to truly make him flush a deep red. She matched him perfectly when it came to humour, making him flush when a sarcastic, dirty joke passed her lips.

The dwarf sighed as he sat himself down on a log beside his cousin and the young princes’. The three all shared a concerned look towards each other then turned their gaze towards the love stricken, hat wearing whittler.

“Don’t worry Bofur, we’ll find her.” Fíli spoke, placing a comforting hand atop his companions’ shoulder, offering a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. She’s probably right on our ass knowing her.” Kíli joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Bofur could only offer a solemn shrug and a smile that couldn’t meet his eyes. The brothers turned to Bifur, hoping he would know what to say.

Bifur shook his head and shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly before looking towards his cousin and offering him the most comforting of smiles he could muster up. “We will find her soon. I promise cousin. We will find your One.”

Bofurs’ smile a tad bit more genuine at his cousins’ words. He sat up that little bit straighter before standing and facing towards Bombur who stood near the campfire. “I’m gonna see if Bombur needs help lads, thanks.” And with that, he slugged his way over, looking down towards the ground and sighing out deeply.

“Where the bloody hell are ya, lass…”

_______________

You head away from your camp and towards the deeper parts of the woods, ready to hunt for your meal. Crouching low to the ground, you spot small tracks, a rabbit most likely. You slowly and quietly followed the small tracks, hoping to come across meat for your food.

A small crackle within the bushes before you forced you to snap your head up. You smiled victoriously as you raised your bow and arrow, steadying your breathing, bringing your elbow back past your ear, forcing you to stare down the length of the piercing wood with a steel pointed head. ‘Got you, ya bastard.’

Just before you released your arrow to send the arrow piercing through the air, the small rabbit emerged from behind the bush, standing on its hind legs, revealing itself as not a small rabbit like you intended to find but a large, burly bear covered in a dark, fur coat.

You fell backwards from your crouched position on to your behind, clamping a hand over your mouth, your breathing becoming increasingly heavier, almost hyperventilating. Your eyes were wide with fear as the bear raised its snout into the air and sniffs, almost as if it were searching for you. You slowly crawled away backwards, putting some distance between you and the beast.

Your efforts had practically been futile.

The bear whipped its head towards you in a flash, staring at you for moment, a moment where you could only hold your breath and pray to whatever God could hear you. The beast released a loud, ground shaking roar, a heavy growl underlining it before it burst out into a run towards you. You scrambled to stand quickly and take lengthy steps back as you drew your sword, unsheathing it from its position at your hip, your bow and arrow long forgotten on the dirt ground.

It lunges towards you and you let a piercing scream tear its way through your throat. You drove your sword up into the chest cavity of the beast as it fell down from the force of its attack, impaling the beast on to your weapon.

It bawled out and whimpered in pain as it laid dying atop of your smaller form. You struggled to worm yourself out from underneath the beast and laid yourself beside it, sprawled out like a starfish and chest heaving heavily as your tried to catch your breath. “I’m sorry…” you whispered to the bear, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye.

You rolled on to your side and slowly came to a stand. You retrieved your dagger from your belt and stepped closer to the corpse. Embedding the blade into the bear, you began to skin and salvage any possible meat from the beast, your body quickly being covered in the luke-warm crimson liquid.

“I’m so, so sorry…”

_______________

The company had sat around the fire, eating whatever Bombur had been able to form into an appetising broth when they heard the loud roar of a beast. They all momentarily paused, all either halting their chewing or stilling the movement of the spoon coming closer to their mouths.

Their eyes travelled along each other as they sat a few moments in silence, some slowly lowering their bowls down, cautious if any over the few decibels they were making would draw whatever it was to them. But once they heard the feminine scream moments after, they jumped up and raced towards whatever they hoped to find.

Everyone was hopeful that it was their missing lass, all the while they wished it weren’t. The scream could never be a good sign. Bofur was the first to spring to action and burst through the treelines to head deeper into the woodland. All he could think is that his One could be in danger and he isn’t with her to protect her.

The others followed suit, rushing towards whatever it was. They dodged and weaved through trees and climbed over and under branched and roots. They ran and ran until they came across the carcass of a bear, a large one at that. It was partially missing some fur along with most of the meat that once encased its bones.

They searched the area, high and low. As Kíli crouched low towards the ground, he noticed the strange disturbances the ground had gone through. He assumed it was that of someone shuffling backwards in a vulnerable state. He brought the scuffle evident in the dirt to Thorins’ and the companies attention.

They backtracked the marks in the dirt and found where they had started, near a bush. They continued to search but one discovery had sent everyone into a state of panic and fear. Your bow and a singular arrow.

“She must’ve been here. You cannot deny it is hers!”

Finding your own tracks that came from your boots hadn’t been difficult to do. So, with that, they hastily followed your footprints, double and triple checking they were on the right track. A million thoughts whirled through their heads. What had happened? Were you alright? Had you been injured?

Bofur felt an array of emotions as he tailed the company, perplexed about what he had hoped to find. He so desperately hoped it was you, but what if they found you in a condition they so desperately didn’t want to come across. What he didn’t want to come across. He would never forgive himself if you had been injured or worse, never forgiving himself for not being able to protect you. His woman, his One.

He prayed to Mahal all throughout their search for you and soon, he found his prayer answered. There you were, sat beside a small campfire atop a thick coat of black fur, turning large chunks of meat over the fire, roasting it for your meal, all the while you were still covered nearly head to toe in nearly crisp dry blood.

Bofur dropped his weapon to the floor and rushed over to you, causing you to jump near enough a foot off the ground. “Mahal, Y/N, I’ve been worried sick!” He enveloped you in a bone crushing hug, dis-concerned about the blood, your shocked face and the other members who watched on. He pulled back ever so slightly and cup your face in between his hands, staring at you intensely. “Where did you run off to?!”

You swallowed down the dry lump that had formed into your throat and looked into his eyes, the other members of the company momentarily forgotten. “I uh-I heard a noise, so I went to check it out and when I came back, you guys weren’t there…” you trailed off, tears forming in your (E/C) orbs, threatening to spill at a moments notice. “I…I thought you guys didn’t care…”

The dam had broken and you now openly sobbed, tears had begun to stream down your face like salty waterfalls. Bofur had reacted quickly, bringing you into yet another hug, seeming more desperate than the last. You clung on to him like a scared child would cling on to their mother as you wept and wept into his chest. The other members all watched with saddened eyes, their hearts breaking the slightest at the thought of you thinking they hadn’t cared that you had disappeared.

“We’re right here lass, I’m right here. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Bofur whispered sweet, soothing words in your ear as he laid a gentle kiss upon your forehead. “I ain’t ever letting you out of my sight ever again, ya hear?” You sniffled and even released the faintest of giggles as you lifted your head up to look Bofur in the eye. He smiled down at you and you could do nothing but return it with a tiny one of your own. “Aye, there’s my lass and that beautiful smile. Not as beautiful as mine though.” He spoke to you with such love and care.

You had laughed once more, always thankful for Bofur and his attempt at making others smile. “I missed you.” You whispered, leaning your forehead against his own.

He beamed towards you as the words passed your lips. “I missed you more, amrálíme.” He spoke not even a decibel louder than you before planting his lips firmly against your own. You froze, shocked by what was happening, but before you knew it, you melted into the kiss and matched his passion and love, raising your arms to wrap loosely around his neck.

The company all had smiles etched across their faces, some of them cheering and realising high pitched wolf whistles. You two broke the kiss as if remembering you were surrounded by others. You flushed a deep red whilst Bofur only seemed to beam towards you once more.

“I would like it if you would allow me to court ya and braid your hair, lass.” He spoke with such confidence that it almost made you neglect the pink tint his cheeks adorned. All you could do was nod and smile sheepishly as your blush intensified. He grinned from ear to ear and kissed you once more, one you happily returned.

Parting, he stood and extended his hand down towards you. You placed your smaller hand into his own before his encased yours and pulled you gently to stand beside him. As soon as you gained your balance, Bombur had rushed towards you and crushed you in his own embrace, him clearly missing you a lot just like his brother. You chuckled as you hugged him back, the company also finding Bomburs affection amusing. It even elicited a deep, throaty chuckle from the ever-brooding Thorin.

You all headed back towards the camp the company had set up, not without grabbing your belonging along with the meat and fur you obtained for the bear you had the misfortune of running into. Bofur had a protective arm around you the entire time, not even removing himself from your side once you had reached the camp.

Bombur and Bifur had taken it upon themselves to cook yet another meal for the company, seeing as you had salvaged much meat from the beast. You all sat and ate, they barraged you with questions about the week you had been separated from them. They even asked about the bear you had taken down and how you lugged so much its meat back towards your makeshift sleeping area.

As you talked and talked with the company on how you had no clue if you were even heading in the right direction towards them, Bofur stared at you lovingly, afraid that if he were to blink, you would become separated once again.

He thanked Mahal a million times over in his head, thankful that they had found you again, that he had found you again. He smiled, removing his hat which he then proceeded to place atop of yours. It fell past your eye, obstructing your vision, causing you to push it up whilst you giggled.

Bofur released a chuckled of his own as he brough you further into his side and rest his head on top of yours. “Amrálíme?”

You smiled as you hear his hushed use of the affectionate name. “Yes Bofur?”

“I love you.”

You turned and looked up at him through your eyelashes, that hat of his threatening to fall over your eyes once again and smiled. “I love you.” You snuggled further into his warm, loving embrace and you both sighed in happiness and contentment.

He’ll be damned if he ever got separated from his One ever again. And Mahal help whoever stands in his way.

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First fic uploaded in 2021, lets gooooo!

It’s a little different to what the requester probably envisioned but the overall plot is still there so all I can hope is that they like it

BRO I HATED THAT I HAD TO WRITE ABOUT KILLING A BEAR, THAT SHIT SAD BRUH lmao

I hope you all enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[hlizr50]

Unveiled

Spoilers for From Blood and Ash

Poppy is unveiled to her new guard. Alternate POV.

Read on AO3

Everything had gone according to plan.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But the end goal had been accomplished.

Swift booted footsteps echoed down the hall as Casteel and his “commander” made their way to the Duke’s office. Jansen had been explaining how the meeting would proceed; the Maiden would be escorted in, Duke Teerman would explain the need for a new guard with the Rite coming so soon, some prattle about why they chose Hawke Flynn to be that guard, the Maiden’s unveiling, and the fealty oath…

He would see her. Finally. No ridiculous veil, no mask. He would see the puzzle complete, how the eyes as green as spring, the full pink lips, the soft creamy skin all fit together. He was sure she would be beautiful, if what he had seen and touched and tasted were any indication. He had a goal in mind, to be sure. But she had intrigued him. He wanted to see and know more of her.

And he always got what he wanted.

“Hawke. Are you listening?”

He turned his amber gaze on Jansen. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you remember the oath?”

“Of course,” Casteel rolled his eyes before reciting. “’With my sword and my life, I vow to keep you safe Maiden, the Chosen. From this moment to the last moment, I am yours.’ Quite melodramatic if you ask me.”

“Keep your voice down,” the commander growled softly. “You are a dedicated guard of Solis swearing fealty to the future of the kingdom, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Casteel sneered. “I haven’t forgotten. And it would do you well to remember who is leading who, Commander.”

“Of course. My apologies.”

The prince knew that Commander Jansen was on a very precarious ledge. Being a Descenter in the heart of Masadonia was dangerous in the best of times. In a position of power, Jansen could pull a lot of strings and make a lot of things happen. But he had a hand in a number of plots, and if just one person was found out or turned against him… his own demise would be the least of the consequences. It could be catastrophic to the schemes they had put in motion years ago and set back the resurrection of Atlantia for literal decades.

The arrived before a heavy wooden door flanked by two of the Duke’s personal guard. Jansen greeted them by name and Casteel gave each a nod. Then they pulled the door out, opening up the room to the pair. This was the beginning of the end.

So it hadn’t gone completely to plan. The prince knew he needed to get close to the Maiden, so he could steal her away right from under the thumb of the Ascended. That had meant an opening needed to come available for one of her personal guards – it wouldn’t do to just work in the castle. Jericho had been tasked with taking out her guard during her almost-daily evening walks.

And he had done it.

But then he’d tried to go ahead and take the Maiden, and that had gotten him into trouble. He hadn’t known she would be armed and dangerous, and when you cross a wolven with pointy things it’s bound to get a little messy.

And Jericho wasn’t known for being calm, cool and collected on a good day.

The Maiden had gotten in a few good strikes, but she had received quite the blow as well. He’d seen the angry swelling around her mouth and jaw at Rylan’s funeral. He only imagined the bruising extended far under the veil, over her cheek and temple.

That was unacceptable.

He hadn’t enjoyed cutting off Jericho’s hand. But he would not allow Penellaphe to be hurt. And to teach a lesson you had to be firm. Unyielding. Deadly, if warranted, and definitely a bit unhinged. Just to keep everyone vigilant.

“Commander Jansen,” Dorian Teerman greeted them. “And you must be Flynn.”

“Your Grace.” Casteel bowed to the Duke, something it almost physically hurt him to do. But he was playing a part, and he could spend more time later creating enticing scenarios in which he destroyed Teerman in any number of ways. “I have summoned the Maiden. She and her guard should be here shortly.”

The Duke hadn’t bothered to introduce his wife, Duchess Jacinda Teerman. Casteel wondered if he even acknowledged her existence much of the time. He didn’t know much about Duke Teerman, but he seemed self-absorbed, self-righteous, and cruel, which was not much different than any of the Ascended he had encountered. Their unyielding refusal to “petition the Gods” so the Tulis family could keep their third son, when their first two had already died so young, was only further proof of their evil. Of course, those first two hadn’t been lost to a “blood disease”, but to the Ascended’s bloodlust – they had been fed upon until there was nothing left. And yet the Duke and Duchess would only insist on taking the third as well. Had it been one of them who had bled those poor children dry? It made his stomach twist to stand with Jansen, making small talk with the pale blonde Duchess as they waited for the meeting to start.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again. And there she was.

This was how he had expected to meet the Maiden. Veiled, so he could only see her lips and chin. Hair pulled back so it was not visible beneath the veil, either. That was a shame. Her hair had unlocked something in him that night at the Red Pearl. It had been so unexpected. And then there was the ridiculous, frilly, white lace and pleats of a dress that covered everything from her neck to her wrists to her ankles. Surely a garment such as that was an affront to the Gods, sleeping though they were. This was the Maiden, pure and docile and silent. It was a stark contrast to the woman who had snuck into his room not so long ago. In a brothel, no less.

“Please. Close the door Vikter,” the Duke nodded as he sat behind the black painted desk. Casteel looked toward the older guard with the sandy blond hair as he pulled the doors closed. He knew more about Vikter than he should for his supposed station, but what was most important was his closeness with the Maiden. Penellaphe. He would need to be thorough in his dedication to win over the seasoned soldier.

“Thank you.” Teerman nodded. “Please, sit, Penellaphe.”

He watched the Maiden as she lowered herself to the bench. Gods he hated that dress. It was such a pity to hide the curves that he knew were underneath. It was an effort to keep himself from smirking. If only those in this chamber knew what she had been up to.

“I hope you’re feeling well, Penellaphe,” the Duchess spoke, a sickeningly sweet voice that felt practiced and false. The veiled Maiden nodded. “I’m relieved to hear that. I was worried that attending the city council so soon after your attack would be too much.” Casteel had watched the Maiden through the entirety of the meeting, trying to decipher anything from the full lips and curve of jaw that he and the rest of the world were allowed to see. Had he seen her skin flush while the Tulis family begged for their son’s life? What had she been thinking as her keepers were tearing yet another family apart?

“What happened in the garden is why we’re all here.” The Duke’s voice was cold. “With the death of… what was his name? The guard?” It made the prince angrier than it should, that this beast could not even be bothered to know the name of the man who had given his life to protect their precious Maiden.

“Rylan Kiel, your Grace,” Vikter answered.

“Ah yes, Ryan. With Ryan’s death you are down one guard… Again. Two guards lost in one year. I hope this isn’t becoming a habit.” What that a joke? Was he trying to imply that this girl could have stopped it? Casteel had to contain a sneer. The guards would continue to fall, if it meant getting his brother back and burning Solis to the ground. Nobody would stop him – not the Maiden, not the Teermans, not Vikter, not the Blood Queen herself. “Anyway, with the upcoming Rite, and as you draw closer to your Ascension, Vikter cannot be expected to be the only one keeping a close watch on you. We need to replace Ryan, which - as I’m sure you realize now - explains why Commander Jansen and guard Flynn are here. Guard Flynn will take Ryan’s place effective immediately.”

“I’m sure this is surprising, as he is new to our city and quite young for a member of the Royal Guard. There are several Rise guards in line to be promoted, and bringing on Hawke is no slight to them. But the Commander has assured us that Hawke is better suited to this task.”

And so the diatribe began about why he was just so good at what he did that he was the next natural choice. Fresh eyes to see new threats. An impeccable record on the Rise and experience beyond it, which would naturally come in handy if the Queen summoned the Maiden earlier than anticipated for her Ascension. It could happen. Teerman Castle had been compromised more than once in the last week. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Queen Ileana determined that they were no longer capable of keeping the Maiden safe here in Masadonia.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that his sense of hearing and smell made him aware of an enemy’s presence long before the enemy knew he was there. If only they knew how much he had to dumb himself down to appear to be a mortal man, counting seconds so he wouldn’t move too fast or relaxing his muscles so he wouldn’t seem too strong. If only they knew that their Commander was a Descenter himself and was planting Prince Casteel himself – the Dark One – into the role of Royal Guard Hawke Flynn. If only they knew that today they were delivering the Maiden into the hands of the most dangerous creature in their nightmares.

“The Descenters and the Dark One are not the only things to fear out there, as you know,” the Duchess had been speaking. Gods they were making it terribly difficult not to laugh. They were so ignorant. The pale blonde Ascended turned to Casteel now. “As a member of the Maiden’s personal royal guard, it is likely that a situation may occur where you will see her unveiled. It can be distracting seeing someone’s face for the first time, especially a Chosen, and that could interfere with your ability to protect her. That is why the Gods allow this breach.”

“Commander Jansen, if you will please step outside,” the Duke gestured toward the door and Jansen took his leave. Casteel stood alone, now, looking toward the veiled young woman now standing before him. Oh, had he been looking forward to this.

“You are about to bear witness to what only a select few have seen: an unveiled Maiden. Penellaphe, please reveal yourself.”

She was too still, and Casteel could tell that her breathing was shallow. What could she be thinking? He was sure that part of her was anxious that she’d be found out.

“Penellaphe. We do not have all day,” the Duke cut out and his wife tried to soothe him.

“Give her a moment, Dorian. You know why she hesitates. We have time.”

Why did she hesitate? Of course, she was concerned about being recognized, but he couldn’t imagine the Duchess would know that. And why did the Duke have that glib smile plastered on his face? Casteel returned his gaze to Penellaphe as her lady’s maid assisted with the chains on the headdress before it fell from her head.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were dark as her gaze remained pinned on the Duke. He could only see the right side of her face as she glared at Teerman and from the corner of his eye he could see the Duke’s expression fall into icy stone. Then she took a breath and turned to face Casteel, lifting her chin slightly.

Gods. She was stunning.

Those lips, her jaw, those eyes as green as Atlantian spring. He was ready for those things, had seen them that night at the Red Pearl. He’d known even then that she was beautiful, and now with her stony gaze it was only confirmed. And then there were the scars. Two scars tracked down from her temple, one over her cheek and toward her nose and one down through her eyebrow. Where had those come from? Who or what had done that to her? He gazed at her, taking in every detail of her face before meeting her eyes. Those eyes. They were dark and stormy, betraying the lack of emotion on her face. It was as if she were steeling herself, although he didn’t know what against.

“She’s truly unique, isn’t she?” She flinched as the Duke spoke again. “Half of her face is a masterpiece, the other half a nightmare.”

That bastard. Her arms tremored slightly, and Casteel realized what she had been hardening herself to feel. He knew that this moment, where he could make Penellaphe feel small, was why the Duke had that slimy smile upon his face. Appearance was a fickle thing, and beauty and perfection were highly touted by the Ascended. The Maiden, chosen but scarred, was being raised and educated under the thumb of a man who likely took every opportunity he could to tell her what a shame it was that her face could never be pleasing to any of them. She was a pawn, a possession to them. But he saw her here, just as he had seen her in the Red Pearl. She was a person, with feelings and desires and insecurities. She was Penellaphe.

He made an oath to himself that he would only treat her as such.

“Both halves are as beautiful as the whole,” he stepped forward then, wishing he could see the Duke’s face when he said it. Her sharp intake of breath made him want to smile for her. She hadn’t been expecting that, and that was the nightmare – that she was not aware how truly lovely she was.

He gave a shallow bow and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Penellaphe. From this moment until the last moment I am yours.” Bowing to Duke Teerman had been torturous, but bowing before her was almost natural. So was swearing his fealty to her. The ease with which he did so kindled something inside of him. He had come here to play a part and set into motion the resurgence of Atlantia, and that was exactly what he was doing. But those emerald eyes, lush red lips, and two pink scars were already threatening to unravel him.

And he wasn’t so sure that he was going to fight it.

[and-there-were-words]

A Spider Life: Slow days (Chapter 05)

I first wanted to write something out of the Spider Queen’s POV, but struggled to keep it within the narrative I am going for at the moment. I will write something for her after what’s show-canon though. A slow one with some more HCs, but I hope you still enjoy this chapter!

Also “Ask questions” had been enabled, I did not notice they weren’t before /o/

---

Taking place some time before “Minor scale”.

After the last two, rather smooth successes of gathering the artifacts, things had turned… slow. With everyone doing their best to busy themselves, Syntax makes some (for him at least) interesting observations. (Wordcount: around 2150)

---

With the mirror in their possession, the little lady had grown silent while working on the furnace. Aside from that whisper business of course, that had been a constant the last few days. And while nobody wanted to admit it out loud, it put everyone on the edge. Even the Queen.

However, nothing would stop Syntax from working on his spiderbots, even trying to improve the additional arms on his back. Not the easiest thing to do when you don’t have eyes on the back of your head, but making sure they just won’t snap in the heat of a moment felt rather crucial. The additional weight to this upgrade wasn’t exactly a worry to him at all, in the end he wasn’t one of the brawler types.

Something in the air changed, making him halt for a second.

“Yes Huntsman, how can I help you?”, he spoke without needing to look up. The other spider made a frustrated noise at being detected, he had been just mere inches away to give the scientist a poke. With an annoyed huff he turned around to stomp back to Goliath. Syntax would be lying to say if the other's frustration didn't plug on a string of satisfaction. This sort of interactions had been going on for a while now.

Leaning back, just to give his spine a proper stretch, the scientist couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. Just the progress he had made the last few days was satisfying, and not only the ones on his machines – but himself too. Huntsman had taken a sadistic joy in startling him whenever he could, and he was infuriatingly good at it. Though, Syntax started to pick up on the faint noises the hunter made when stepping on stone, the shuffling of clothes. Eventually he could catch him prior to a scare.

Which only goaded Huntsman to try even harder, becoming more and more silent and careful in his steps. Syntax had taken recordings to measure the changes of skill level (and for his own sanity) – by now, the hunting spider was so silent that even his gadgets could barely pick up the sounds anymore. Certainly a skill Huntsman had all along, but finally seemed to shake off the initial rust after his involuntary slumber. With the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to catch him on that anymore, the scientist tried to focus on other giveaways.

What had started as an obvious attempt on grilling his nerves, developed into a near playful banter. Just the wordless back and forth to get the other to try harder. In an odd way, it almost felt like Huntsman was training him, but he was careful to keep that thought to himself. Syntax knew better than to read too much into the hunter's actions, as chaotic as they were.

Nonetheless, the scientist found himself trying to imitate the hunter now and then. Since the guy was going on about smelling all kind of stuff, he gave it a try himself. At first not picking up much more than the damp air in the cave, the metal of the machines. It took him a while to find stronger differences, trying to casually walk past Goliath and the Queen. He found it rather surprising that they didn't seem to do much to hide their presence, but maybe it was simply the comfort of the cave that allowed them to do so.

Picking up on Huntsman was an entirely different beast. The man always seemingly on guard, always ready to appear and disappear. However with time, the scientist managed to actually pick up on Huntsman’s scent, as faint as it was. Kind of earthy, a little bit mildewed, and Syntax could swear there was the ever lingering hint of fresh blood. Did this guy ever wash that pelt of his?

Of course, he would never claim that his own sense of scent was as powerful as the hunter’s, but it was enough to know who was currently around the cave. The little lady didn't seem to have any telltales like these, which usually would've raised red flags in his mind but… he didn't question it, nobody else did either. Anything else he came in contact with, the scents of the surface… became a mixed blend of too much too quickly. Maybe a task for another time.

Aside from that, scent and hearing weren’t the only senses he had noticed an improvement in! Their lair seemed to have become much less dark, he wasn’t as dependable on his goggles as he used to be anymore. What before had looked like chunky and random bits of webbing, now unveiled themselves as carefully crafted pieces with intriguing patterns, with uses he was still starting to understand. Goliath did his best to explain them in more 'common' terms, and it was always a pleasant surprise to see how excited the large spider became to share his knowledge. The more time Syntax spent within the Silk Web Cave, the more beautiful this place became to him. A pride welling up that he lived here.

However their hideout wasn’t the only thing that was much more layered than he previously thought. Turning around in his seat, he watched the other two henchmen going about their day. Currently sticking their heads together over something he couldn't see from his position. Still, he watched them a little, while he was sorting further observations in his mind.

...to no one’s surprise, when he wasn’t within the lair, Huntsman was hunting. Or at least, somewhere outside doing who knows what for days on end. Yet always coming back with some good pieces of meat, roots and berries (but mainly meat). The first time Syntax saw the hunter preparing food for dinner, he nearly refused to partake in it. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine his meals to taste anything but bland, or worse, be poisoned. Color him surprised, that stew was better than most dishes the Queen would concoct on a daily basis. Another thought Syntax would take to his grave before speaking it out loud.

When Huntsman wasn’t around for dinner, and everyone else felt too lazy to scavenge for some proper food options, Goliath and he would order takeout. The strong spider clearly intrigued by this concept, always wanting to try something new. Syntax often questioned the sanity of the cityfolk, considering that the delivery people didn’t had much care to come down near a spider den. The food from the surface world had something comforting to the scientist, as cheap and artifical as it sometimes was. Though he was really craving noodle soup as of late and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Syntax let out a little sigh while standing up.

This whole food thing had also shown an interesting side on Goliath. While the Queen and Huntsman didn’t seem to particularly care about human food (the latter even openly showing his distaste for it), the strong spider had taken a deep fascination. Especially sweets and candies seemed to have struck his attention the most. More than once did Syntax catch him just trying some new trendy food or colorful jawbreaker that he got from… who knows where. Goliath didn’t make any of this a secret, however he clearly wasn’t one with a rotten sweet-tooth as he barely finished anything. “For science.”, he once said with a wink and didn’t elaborate any further. Okay then.

“What are you two doing?”, Syntax casually asked as he wandered closer to the two. The strong spider looked up in confusion for a second before giving the younger man a smirk, “Secrets”. The scientist blinked owlishly, circling around them to look over the smaller spider’s shoulder. There were parchments of leather, deer if Syntax would have to guess, with Huntsman trying to draw squares and circles. Large black smudges here and there told the story of many previous attempts, letting the edges of the material look almost black by now.

"Get away from me.", the kneeling spider hissed, Syntax complying with an annoyed eye roll. Looking back at the larger man in an unspoken question. "We want to make a new robe for the Queen.", the giant almost beamed with excitement. Only for the big smile to water down in mild disappointment, "Buddy ain't good at designing though."

"If you wouldn't be just so damn picky!", Huntsman shot back, smudging away his latest attempt. "Just let me do what I do best, I know what I am d-"

"No!", Syntax flinched a little in surprise. It wasn't exactly an usual thing for Goliath to argue, or to even interrupt someone. "I want this to be special and you just can't get the patterns right! For the Queen's sake, just follow a plan for once!"

The scientist had to raise a brow. This was the first time he ever saw the two of them actually butting heads and… he had to admit, it was a little bit refreshing. Letting his eyes wander to some other pieces of leather, recognizing the sketches as copies from the patterns all over the cave. This one was a sigil of warding, as he had learned the other day, and a few were the Queen's own emblem. In case some other spider demon decided to come here, they would immediately know who's domain they dared to enter. The rest of those, he had not gotten an explanation yet.

"If I may.", mechanical arms shoved Huntsman unceremoniously to the side. Crouching down to pick up one of the charcoal, he started to draw. He was no expert on how to draw people by any means, but it certainly resembled the queen more than any of Huntsman's attempts. With careful strokes, he designed a fairly simple cut, working in the patterns on how he would think would look good on the Queen. It didn't pass him that the other two were watching with bated breath.

Once done, the scientist sat back on his heels, giving his creation a proper look. Not too shabby, if he may say so himself.

"Oh this is really good, Syntax!", Goliath cheered, looking like he wanted to touch the sketch but didn't dare to. On the other end of the emotional spectrum, Huntsman almost looked like he was about to explode.

"The fuck is your problem.", the elder hissed in dreadful silence, whole body tense and twitching. "What do you think you are!", he now became louder but Syntax did his best to just give him a neutral expression and not to budge. Which may not have been the best idea, as it only agitated the other further. The hunter was now standing, looming over him. "You really think you can just come in here and do whatever?! Think you can just be part of this??"

Large and sharp spider legs lashed out, in reflex Syntax let out a startled cry and raised his arms in an attempt of protection. But the pain didn't come. They hadn't aimed at him, instead… having shred the parchment with the sketches to bits. "I REFUSE TO WEAVE THIS."

Like an angry lion, the hunter had bared his fangs in a snarl. For a moment, Syntax was still prepared to be hit by the other, but the hunter suddenly turned around and just. Left. Goliath looked torn between the two men, mouthing a silent "Sorry" before hurrying after his friend.

A breath he didn't know he was holding, escaped his lungs. Syntax crumbled a bit to the floor, bitter thoughts flooding in. Just when he thought things were doing okay. Of course he had to step right into a sensitive nerve for the older spider. Heavy clicking pulled him out of his thoughts, but he couldn't care at the moment to look presentable before the Queen.

Spider Queen looked between the tired scientist and shredded pieces of leather, no apparent expression showing. But of course there was a glint of recognition in her eyes. "Why y'all causing such a ruckus?" Syntax sighed silently, giving a brief summary of the recent events.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, the scientist not entirely sure how his Queen would react. To his surprise, she let out a little tired sigh. "Weaving is something quite personal to us. Especially if we do it for someone else.", she explained without really looking back at him. Instead giving the destroyed sketches another glance. "Just pretend this never happened. He'll get over it." With that, she simply left.

Syntax pulled his lips into a frown. Just ignore this all? If Huntsman got over it or not, it did not matter. His fists clenched a little, looking at the floor, choking and holding back bitter tears he could feel burning in hte back of his eyes. Syntax was more upset that he apparently wasn't allowed to be an actual part of this clan, no matter how hard he tried.

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 14

Oof!au, part 14. I got cute with the prompt for this one. They are a found family but it’s also, you know, found: family. I know I said there weren’t any more split POVs but that was before Ahsoka and Rex decided they had a lot more to say than I planned, and so.... split POVs return for a few segments. Also this part is very long.

General Information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending (soon). Past/eventual Codywan. Past one-sided Vaderwan.

WARNINGS: Discussion of trauma, torture, non-con, mind control, and death. Allusions to suicide. So much mental and emotional trauma.

Alt 7. Found Family

Messages from Ahsoka’s contacts in the Core worlds were few and far between. Usually, they didn’t add up to much. The one that had plunged them across Wild Space had been flagged urgent. “It’s probably nothing,” Ahsoka said, even as they cut across the black of space, and Rex believed her.

It was usually nothing.

When it wasn’t, it was a problem.

They came out of hyperspace alongside one the new Imperial cruisers, a hulking beast of a ship, all sharp lines and jagged edges. They’d been monitoring it, on their approach, and it showed no signs of arming weapons, or raising shields, but…

Rex whistled anyway, looking at the ship. “You seeing this?” he asked, looking over when Ahsoka didn’t answer, her gaze gone distant. “Ahsoka?”

She shook her head and said, “There’s something… strange.”

Strange meant trouble, as far as Rex was concerned. He checked his blaster as they docked, watched her draw both her sabers, and nudged her in the side. “Sure we shouldn’t just bolt?” he asked, waiting for the port to open.

“No,” she said, staring forward, “there’s--I think we need to be here. I…” She trailed off, shaking her head, lekku curling up on the ends as the only display of her nerves as the airlock opened and--

Rex didn’t waste breath cursing, jerking his blaster up, because there were troopers on the other side of the hatch, and they might not kill him on sight, but Ahsoka--

And a ghost, a dead man walking, stepped between Rex and - and kriffing hell, that was Cody - and said, “Don’t shoot!” Rex stared across into General Kenobi’s impossible face, and felt the entire galaxy lurch into a brand new alignment, dragging Rex along with it, the next moments all confusing madness.

“There still a chip in your head?” Cody asked Rex, as Ahsoka grabbed General Kenobi. He hadn’t holstered his blaster, Rex noticed, just lowered it a little at Kenobi’s request. He was tense across his shoulders, unblinking.

“Not for three years,” Rex said, carefully, because he’d never come upon any of his brothers already unchipped; he should have known if anyone would start doing it en masse, it would be Kenobi and the 212th.

“Good,” Cody said, with a brief nod, “but you understand that we’re going to need to confirm that. Crys. Take him to the infirmary. Have Bones look him over.”

And Rex almost protested. He didn’t - technically - take orders from Cody anymore. The GAR was nothing but smashed pieces. But he looked past Cody’s shoulder, to General Kenobi - what was left of General Kenobi - he didn’t look like himself, not at all, his hair shaved close to his scalp and his beard barely a scruff across his jaw, swimming in trooper blacks, the left sleeve tied off and--

Most of the Jedi had died within moments of Order 66 being issued. A few had survived longer. They’d found some of them. What was left of them.

Rex swallowed, hard, gaze drawn back to Ahsoka’s back, because it was easy - too easy - to imagine what could have happened to her, to imagine her eyes gone all faded and distant like Kenobi’s. He cut his eyes towards Cody and wondered what the kriff, exactly, had happened. He said, “Sure. Ahsoka, I’ll catch up.”

She looked over at him, her expression a mix of yearning and hope, and nodded.

It felt wrong, leaving her there surrounded by troopers, but General Kenobi was at her side. Even with one arm, even looking like death warmed over, Rex couldn’t quite believe that he’d ever let anything happen to Ahsoka.

“So,” he said, falling into step beside Crys, “what the kriff happened to you?”

#

A part of Ahsoka had always hoped Master Obi-Wan was still alive, out there somewhere. She’d heard his message, transmitting out across the stars, warning any survivors away from the Temple.

She’d known he survived the initial kill order, and she’d thought… well. If anyone could survive with the entire galaxy trying to kill them, it would have been Master Obi-Wan. She’d imagined, sometimes, coming upon him in some dive bar or on a battlefield, meeting each other’s eyes and falling into step, back to back--

She found him on an Imperial ship. When she’d thought about finding him, he’d looked the same way she last saw him, tired and worn down, but alright. She’d always imagined that he’d crook a smile at her.

Obi-Wan smiled there in the halls of the Recompense. But it didn’t touch his eyes. He looked different, wrong, with his hair trimmed so short and his beard just growing in. He was, for some reason, wearing trooper blacks. He swam in them. And the left sleeve was tied off, empty….

“We can put you in touch with the rest of the rebellion,” she said, trying to stay focused, shooting him another look as they walked towards the bridge.

Obi-Wan nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Cody, who, she noticed, was following a step back. His hand was still resting on his blaster. He looked different, too, the lines around his mouth graven deeper, his eyes harder.

He’d always seemed warm to her, before. Even through the Force.

He felt cold, walking down the hall of the ship, as Obi-Wan said, “I’ll have to talk to the men. See what they want to do.”

Ahsoka made a soft sound of acknowledgement. She hadn’t been around so many troopers since everything fell apart. It made her lekku itch, knowing they were all around. She wished Rex hadn’t gone off to the infirmary. She said, setting that thought aside, “We can find places for them, if they...don’t want to join. They don’t have to stay with--”

“We’re staying with the General,” Cody said, and even his voice sounded different, full of sharper edges that threatened to draw blood.

“Well, that’s fine, too,” Ahsoka said, glancing back and forth between them, cautiously tracing their emotions with the Force and recoiling after the briefest brush because it was all -- hurt. Terrible hurt, open wounds in need of immediate tending. 

The agony lingered there, right below the surface as they reached the bridge and punched in coordinates to, at least, get further away from their current position, just in case they were discovered. Ahsoka looked around the bridge - it reminded her, achingly, or both the Resolute and the Peacemaker, but it felt...wrong.

Everything felt wrong. 

“You’ve been well?” Obi-Wan asked, something shadowed in his eyes, and Ahsoka considered the past three years, the fear and the desperation and the slow slog towards some kind of healing, some kind of life.

It seemed strange to realize, that, compared to him, she had most definitely been doing well. She nodded, and said, “Yes, Master.” And she flushed as she spoke, because she hadn’t called anyone by that title for so long, and it felt both presumptuous and embarrassing, mader her feel like the child she wasn’t anymore, and--

And it made Obi-Wan go still, his emotions blossoming huge for just a moment before he controlled them all down and away, where she couldn’t feel them. He cleared his throat, and said, “Why don’t you tell me more about what I’ve missed?”

#

Rex had seen plenty of his brothers over the past three years. Most of them had been on the other side of a blaster. It never hurt less, killing them, but he’d gotten… better at it. They’d saved a few of them, freed them, brought them back to themselves. But that had been scattered souls, here and there.

And so many of them had…. Not handled freedom well.

Rex had come out of it with something to live for, someone to keep fighting for.

Too many of his brothers had only come out with crushing guilt and despair. Too many of them recalled killing their generals, their friends. Too many of them remembered the atrocities they’d been used to carry out.

They found ways to get away from it.

Rex looked into the faces of the survivors of the 212th on his way to the infirmary and felt a shiver down his spine. They looked, to a man, exhausted and worn down, with shadows in their eyes, tension in every move they made.

He listened to Crys’ brief run down of what had happened, freezing for a step when Crys said, “Skywalker rounded us up. As many of the 212th as he could find.” By the time he started moving again, Crys was explaining that they’d been kept on Mustafar. Waiting.

“It’s good to see you again,” Crys said, outside the door to the infirmary, gripping Rex’s forearm and flashing him a thin smile.

“Not going to stay and chat?” Rex asked, raising an eyebrow, getting the feeling he was only digging at the surface of whatever was going on, and Crys shook his head.

“I need to go check on the General,” he said, like it was obvious.

Rex blinked. “He’s still a General, huh?” he asked, trying to inject some levity into the situation. 

The look Crys gave him curdled any hope of that. “Yes,” Crys said, and nothing else, turning on his heel and walking down the hall. 

Rex shook off the feeling of tension in the middle of his shoulder blades, ducking into the infirmary and it was so strange to see one of his brothers in there, working, instead of a droid or the medics that had joined the rebellion. It threw him into a strange headspace, made him feel almost like the last three years hadn’t happened.

He’d ended up in the Negotiator’s medical bay more than once, getting treatment for all his hurts. He said, “Hey, Bones,” as the medic turned to face him, and got a long whistle for his trouble.

“Look at you,” Bones said, shaking his head, before his mouth hardened. “Unchipped?”

“You’re supposed to double-check,” he said, and Bones nodded, waving him forward. Rex submitted to the examination, thankfully brief, and said, as he sat back up, “How’d you all…” he waved a hand. “Get past them, anyway?” Bones froze, looking to one side, quickly. Rex watched him, going still in response. “Bones?”

“We…” Bones blinked rapidly a few times and cleared his throat. “I assume the same way you did. And any others of us, who got away.”

Rex swallowed, aching inside. “Not many of us have,” he said, focusing on a spot on the far wall. He didn’t want to admit, yet, that he hadn’t seen so many of his brothers free before. Ever. Even during the war, it had been lurking inside them. He shuddered. “Kenobi freed you, then?”

Bones sucked in a breath. When he spoke, the words seemed to come from far away. “Yes. I suppose he did. Indirectly. A few of us managed to...break them.”

Rex stared at him. He had no reason to believe such a thing was even possible. “Are you serious?”

Bones jerked out a nod, turning away to look at a scan that was reporting, as far as Rex could tell, nothing. “Yeah. You push hard enough against them, you give yourself an aneurysm. On the plus side, it also breaks them.” Bones scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You didn’t know about this?”

“Kriffing hell,” Rex said, shuddering down his back. “No, I’ve never heard of anyone breaking them.” 

“Not surprised,” Bones said, gaze going distant and unfocused. “Half of us that managed it died. If the Commander hadn’t dragged us to the medbay…” He trailed off, and then shook his head, hard. “You’re clean. Free to go.”

“Go where?” Rex asked, still trying to process the idea that they’d - they’d broken the thing in their heads, somehow. All on their own. He swallowed bile, thinking about his finger on the trigger, Ahsoka’s eyes on the other end of the barrel, thinking--

Well.

He hadn’t given himself an aneurysm.

“Wherever you want,” Bones said. “Tell the Commander he missed a check-in, if you see him.”

#

It took time to describe everything Obi-Wan had missed. They talked on the bridge, for a long time, about what the Rebellion had gotten up to, slowly trying to build some way to resist the Imperial forces sent against them.

Ahsoka watched Obi-Wan’s expression get still with each word she spoke. She wished she had more good news to share, but there was...so little to bring a spark of brightness into the world. 

“I should show you around,” Obi-Wan said, eventually, as she ran out of things to tell him. “Have you seen one of these models?”

“Not yet,” Ahsoka said. “This is a bigger target than we usually try to take.” They’d been scrambling, for years, trying to make a dent against an enemy that had beaten them before they even knew what was happening.

Holding onto even the barest scraps of hope had felt impossible. Ahsoka knew, most days, that they were doing little more than throwing pebbles at a krayt dragon. Most likely they weren’t even an irritation, but…

But it was better than giving up. At least she thought so, most days.

She listened to Obi-Wan talk about the ship as they moved through the halls, watched by troopers wherever they went. “And we have plenty of quarters,” Obi-Wan said, eventually, waving a door open along the hall and gesturing inside. “If you’d like to stay aboard during the trip. Your shuttle can stay docked.”

Ahsoka stepped into the room with a lurch in her chest, abruptly thrown back in time, to her quarters on the Resolute and the Peacemaker. If she looked at it just right, she could imagine her room, she could imagine turning and seeing Anakin standing in the doorway, come to check on her after a mission and--

And when she turned it was Obi-Wan still in the hall, talking with Cody, quietly. She cleared her throat, and said, “Could I talk to you, for a moment? Just… you?” Cody was making her feel more and more uneasy. The longer she was around him, the more off-balance she felt. 

She felt the whip-snap fast shift of his emotions at the suggestion, watched him stiffen his shoulders, but Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ll catch up with you shortly, Commander,” he said, and it seemed so odd to Ahsoka that they were using ranks, still.

She and Rex had stopped using them almost immediately.

She shook that thought aside as they resumed walking, before she drew a breath and asked, “Have you--have you seen Anakin?”

Obi-Wan’s emotions withdrew completely. She’d barely been aware of the soft touch of his mind against hers, soothing and familiar. It had been so long since she’d been around another Force user, much less someone she knew. It was startling to have it jerked away again, abruptly.

When he spoke, his voice was even, “Yes. He… found me. A few months ago.”

Ahsoka’s heart jerked in her chest. She’d seen Anakin a few times, from a distance. He’d looked so different, covered in his awful dark suit. Ahsoka swallowed. There’d been rumors, recently, that something had happened to him. She asked, quietly, “Where is he now?”

Obi-Wan stopped walking, just for a moment. He took a breath and said, “He’s one with the Force, now.”

“What?” That matched the reports they’d heard, but Ahsoka hadn’t believed those reports, not really. So many people had thought Anakin was dead, over the years, and they’d all of them been wrong. “Are you sure?”

Obi-Wan stared forward, expression some strange and still thing. “Yes,” he said, “I’m very sure.”

“But…” Ahsoka shifted her weight back and forth. Some part of her had always held out the hope that she’d find Anakin, find a way to get through to him. She’d left him, once, and -- and she’d thought, so many nights, that maybe if she’d been there, she could have protected him, kept him from Falling, if she hadn’t run away when he needed her-- “How?”

“He Fell,” Obi-Wan said, tone odd and blank. “Long ago. The Anakin you knew was gone, and--”

“I don’t believe that,” Ahsoka said, shaking her head. The Anakin she knew had been many things, including full of such sharp bright anger, sometimes. But she knew he’d been good, at the core. “He -- you were around him, are you telling me that you don’t think he could have come back?”

Something moved through the Force, an undercurrent that threatened to drag her under for a moment. Nothing showed on Obi-Wan’s expression. “He was gone,” he said, voice a rasp.

Ahsoka frowned, emotions twisting around in her gut. She’d always held onto the hope of bringing him back, of making things right, of making up for leaving, for not being there when he needed her, for-- “So - so you didn’t even try?” she asked, aware her voice was getting louder. “You were his Master, and you didn’t help him?”

#

Rex ended up in the mess. There were clusters of his brother there, talking to one another, and they pulled him over eagerly. They wanted to know everything, all about what had happened in the last three years, outside of their little bubble. 

He pulled up a chair and looked at the intent expressions on their faces, and told him what he knew. Mav looked shocked when he asked how long Rex had been under. “A few minutes,” he echoed, sounding numb and far away, his expression mirrored by the others gathered around.

“Yeah.” Rex had known he was lucky, known it even when he felt like the rest of the world was coming down. He’d escaped whatever had left his brothers all looking like hollowed out shells. He twirled the cup in his fingers and asked, “What about...all of you? How long…?”

“Until a few days ago,” Crys said, gaze cutting over to the side, tone getting flatter by the word, and Rex flinched, thinking about spending three years under, about what they must have gone through--

“What the kriff happened?”

Crys stared at nothing for a moment, and then looked his way, blinking. “What?”

Rex gestured around the room. “To all of you. I, kriffing hell, we got word, a few days back, that the Emperor was in a royal snit because - because Vader and his entire base got blown all to hell and--”

“Skywalker,” Mav cut in, sharp, tensing across his shoulders.

Rex blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Call him his name,” Mav said, flat, taking another long swallow of caff. “That’s who he always was.”

Rex processed that, slowly, leaning back in his chair. “So he is dead, then?” He got nods from all around, his brothers’ mouths curling up in the corners, brief flashes of fierce satisfaction passing across their expressions. “You’re sure?”

The look in Crys’ eyes made Rex want to reach for his blaster. He resisted. “The Commander killed him. Personally. Got confirmation himself,” Crys said, sure and calm and terrible. “He’s dead. Body is gone completely. Nothing to bring back, this time.”

“Kriff.” Rex scrubbed a hand over his face. “I--how?” Because he’d heard nothing but horror stories about Vader - Anakin - after the war. He’d turned into a monster. Some machine that just murdered everything in its path. Rex had done his best to keep Ahsoka away from him, succeeded, but…

“He left the Commander in charge,” Mav said, finger tapping on the side of his mug, that code the 212th had used, back in the day. Rex had never learned it, they’d been greedy with the secret. “While we were all chipped. When he got free…” He shrugged, eloquently.

Rex could imagine. Cody had been Marshal Commander for a reason. He’d always been good at finding the solutions to problems. “I still don’t… the Commander killed him?” He knew - though she didn’t talk about it much - that Ahsoka had still hoped to find Anakin one day. Bring him back. That happened, Rex supposed, sometimes.

“Put him down,” Mav said, grim and satisfied, taking a deep drink of his caff and twisting his mouth. “A better death than that motherkriffer deserved.”

Rex shivered. The chill around his brothers, the shadows in their eyes, reminded him too much of Umbara. He knew, very well, what his brothers looked like when they were pushed too far. “Because he’d turned to the Dark?” he asked, half because he’d gotten into the habit of digging for intel automatically, half because he knew his family, and he thought if they didn’t keep talking they might all implode.

Crys snorted, Mav shook his head, it was Ults - a medic Rex hadn’t ever seen much - who answered, “Because of what he did to the General.” And that got nods and murmurs of agreement from all the rest clustered around.

Rex turned his cup, kept his tone even when he asked, “What’d he do?”

“You’ve seen him,” Crys snapped, looking to the side, hands in fists again, knuckles standing against skin. Rex watched them all wind tighter, all at once, and wondered if digging at the subject actually was the right call. 

“It’s been three years since I saw General Kenobi,” he said, quietly, and it felt strange to call anyone General, these days, but he could read a room. Kenobi was still the General to all of his brothers. They didn’t need another shove closer to whatever cliff they were teetering on in their heads. “I didn’t know--”

“Skywalker did it,” Mav snarled, pushing to his feet and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, taking a few agitated steps and pacing back. “All of it. For three months. Skywalker hurt him. Tried to tear him apart.” He paused, breathing heavily, and then admitted, tone cracking, “Made us help.”

“We tried not to,” Crys said, voice trembling, “Fought it, but he--he made us. We tried, but we couldn’t help him. Skywalker burned him and - and raped him and took his arm and we--”

“We should have tried harder,” Ults said, into the silence, when Crys cut off, covering his face with his hands, Rex staring at them with a pit opening in his chest, nothing at the bottom of it but darkness. 

He had a lurching, awful moment where his mind raced forward, dragging him into possibilities he didn’t want to consider. It was terribly easy to imagine Anakin finding Ahsoka, instead of Obi-Wan, terribly easy to consider her blue eyes shadowed and--

“Yes,” Cody said, startling Rex out of the spiralling horror of his thoughts. Rex twisted in his seat, watching Cody stalk over, a cup of caff in his hand. “We should have.” Cody kept going, apparently finished, and Rex rose to follow him, because none of his brothers looked well, but Cody...

Rex said, falling into step beside Cody as he made his way to a far table, empty of anyone else, “Bones is looking for you.” 

“He can keep looking.” Cody hissed a little at the burn of the caff, sitting with a scowl, one leg immediately bouncing up and down.

Rex stood for a moment, feeling the urge to wait for permission to sit, and then remembered he didn’t have to do that, any longer. He sat, watching Cody frown at nothing, and then said, carefully, “Doing alright?”

“Fine,” Cody said, not looking at him. 

Rex felt like he was balancing on a wire. When they’d come out to check out the intel, he hadn’t expected to walk into a situation like this. The entire ship felt like a bomb about to go off, like an explosion waiting to happen.

He didn’t like to think what would happen to his brothers, if that happened.

And so he cleared his throat and said, quietly, “It really wasn’t your fault.”

Cody’s mouth twisted, terribly. Everyone else had avoided Rex’s eyes, but Cody looked at him, and Rex wished, immediately, that he hadn’t. “The fuck would you know about whose fault it is?” Cody snarled. “You weren’t there. You got free, you looked after Ahsoka--”

“I got lucky,” Rex said, feeling it more than ever. “She figured out how to--”

“I beat him. Obi-Wan,” Cody cut in. Rex wasn’t sure he’d heard the interjection. Rex froze, bracing a hand on the table. “Skywalker ordered me to, and I did. He pleaded with me to stop and I didn’t listen. And I…” Cody’s jaw worked, soundlessly, for a moment, before he hissed, “and I raped him, so, you don’t get to come here, and tell me it wasn’t my fault, I--”

“Sithspit,” Rex whispered, as Cody’s words cut off again, both his hands balled to fists. “That’s -- Cody. You didn’t want to, that’s--the chip--”

“I broke the chip,” Cody spat, flat and hard, “So that’s no excuse. I broke it. Just not fast enough. I wasn’t strong enough. Didn’t want to do it badly enough, when I was--” 

“I’ve never heard of anyone else breaking the kriffing things,” Rex said, reaching out cautiously, gently putting a hand on Cody’s shoulder. He jumped, beneath Rex’s touch, muscles knotted and hard. “The things they made us do--”

“Made us do? What’d they make you do?” Cody demanded, looking over, and meeting his gaze was like taking a punch. 

“They would have made me kill her. Ahsoka,” Rex said, calm and honest, feeling Cody flinch under his hand. “I would have done it. Pulled the trigger and put a blaster bolt between her eyes and--and I couldn’t have stopped it. Wolffe killed General Koon. Bly killed Secura. Are you calling them murderers, because you know they’d have never--”

Cody pushed up and out of his chair, and for a moment Rex thought that he’d gone too far, pushed too much, but Cody wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was across the room, towards the door, where other troopers were pushing out, the atmosphere of the room changing, all at once.

“What’s going on?” Rex demanded, standing himself, following Cody as he crossed the room.

#

Ahsoka thought she’d seen Obi-Wan’s expression break, before. She’d seen him hurt, many times, certainly. Seen him walk off battlefields, seen him bent over the dead, seen him grieving so openly it hurt.

His expression had never done what it did in the corridor, her last words still echoing around them. She watched him curl in, somehow, without ever seeming to move, eyes shuttered for all that they remained open. He asked, quietly, as someone pushed through the door at his back, “What?”

Ahsoka blinked the stinging blur from her eyes. Nothing seemed quite real yet, it hadn’t all settled. She’d thought, told herself, that she’d be able to help Anakin, for so long, and-- “You were his Master,” she said, choking, “he trusted you, you should have tried to save him--”

And there were troopers there, then, in the hall with them. She watched two of them just - just catch Obi-Wan and only realized then that he’d swayed, staring forward, sightlessly. 

“What the kriff did you just say?” Stripes demanded, stepping in front of Obi-Wan, blocking him from her view, bristling, and they were all, every single one of them, radiating anger, fierce and jagged edged.

She took a step back, bracing, hands itching to reach for her lightsabers as Rex came through the door, a single piece of relief, even as he demanded to know what was happening. Stripes didn’t look away from Ahsoka to answer. “She said the General didn’t do enough to save Skywalker.”

It was odd, how the hall went quiet, then, just for an instant, before Cody said, tone harder than durasteel, “Rex. Take Commander Tano out of here.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was a surprise, small and rasping, “It’s al--”

“Now,” Cody cut in, and Ahsoka could see him gripping the doorframe, see a muscle jumping in his jaw, over and over again.

Rex only jerked out a nod, even though he didn’t have to take Cody’s orders anymore, stepping forward and taking her arm. She said, “I don’t--”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Rex said, quiet, close to her ear, and something about his emotions, pulled taunt with worry and concern, made her shut her jaw, her teeth closing with a little click. He said, without turning back, “We’ll just… be in our shuttle. For a while.”

Ahsoka waited until they were down the hall, around a corner, to hiss, “Rex, what the kriff--”

“Not here,” he gritted back, gaze moving to the side as they passed a trooper, who watched them with a curious expression. Rex refused to say anything else until they were through the airlock, into their little ship, and then he only said, sounding agonized, “Tell me you didn’t.”

Ahsoka blinked at him, feeling unnerved and on-edge. The sheer tension radiating out of everyone on the Recompense made it hard to think clearly. They were filling the Force up with their hurt and she had to work to keep it out. “Didn’t what?” she asked, stepping back from him and frowning. 

“Say that about--”

“Rex,” she cut in, shaking her head and spinning around the pilot’s chair so she could drop down into it, wishing she’d sent someone else to check this all out. “He - he was Anakin’s Master, he - if anyone should have been able--”

“Skywalker did this to them,” Rex said, quiet, leaning his shoulder against the wall, looking down and the to the side.

Ahsoka took a breath to recover and then said, “What?”

He jerked out a nod. “He - he took the 212th, from what I can tell. Kept them on Mustafar. And then he, well. Captured General Kenobi. And... “ He swallowed, loudly enough that she heard it, his hands in fists. “And…” 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Anakin wouldn’t--”

“They weren’t lying to me.” There was a jagged edge in Rex’s voice, something she’d never heard much. “He spent months--”

“No,” Ahsoka repeated, because she’d kept a flame of hope burning inside her chest for three years. Knowledge that if she just - just got close enough, she could find a way. Bring Anakin back. Rescue him from the darkness he’d fallen into. 

Rex sighed, scrubbing a hand back over his head and moving forward, sinking down into the chair across from her. He reached out, after a moment, snagging her hand and threading their fingers together. When he looked up, his eyes were dark and shining.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” he said, quietly, “but you need to. You’ve got to feel how they’re hurting.” She nodded, throat getting tight. She could feel the agony, had to work to keep it away, losing her grip on it as he sat there and spoke, quietly, trailing off sometimes, the words beating their way into her head.

And she tried to say “no” again, when he was finished. He’d leaned forward, back bowing as though he couldn’t bear the weight of what he’d learned, and she leaned forward to meet him, resting her forehead against his. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she’d known Anakin well, after all. Once upon a time. She’d seen him get angry, seen what that anger could drive him to, and she’d thought….

She said, “Sithspit,” into the space between them, and Rex nodded. She scrubbed at her face; it had been a long time since she rubbed at her cheeks and had her fingers come away wet. “What are we supposed to do for them?”

Rex sighed, staring down at their hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never...dealt with anything like this.”

She thought about her last words to Obi-Wan, the way he’d looked at her, blank and distant and kriffing hell, if he was sitting in the Recompense, thinking he should have saved the man who beat and raped and--and she swallowed, heavily. “Me either.”

He stroked his thumb across the side of her hand and said, “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

[princess-of-the-corner]

Human After All: I'd like to know more about A) Lust realizing that Hohenheim had an actual life in Resembool and B) everyone's reactions to Ed and Al sneaking off to do the human transmutation and the aftermath.

Oh boy here we fuckin go!!!!!

Lust realizing that Hohenheim had a life in Resembool:

Oh boy. Okay so this has some setup.

When Lust first meets Ed and Al, she assumes the situation is a lot different. Basically They're close enough to be mistaken for twins, so she thought it was more "one night stand and disappeared from town but their mom remembered the name and told the kids". Because... Why would he stay?

But then Lust babysits Ed and Al on a trip back to Resembool to visit Winry and her grandma. And like.

Lust gets curious about some things. And she happens to see a photo album out that she can't help but look through.

Of course Granny finds her snooping but just lets her look through it and explains that it's from Winry's parents' wedding. And Lust eventually flips to a page where Hohenheim is in the photo.

Lust pauses on it because it's so strange. First in general, of how Hohenheim looks just like Father but also nothing like him at the same time. Physically identical, but the way they carry themselves is.. Entirely different.

Especially as this picture is kinda goofy. Granny tells her how everyone was hinting to Hohenheim that he should marry Trisha since they were already "basically married". And the newly married Sarah Rockbell had given up pn subtly, and chucked her boquet right at Hohenheim's face with a "sorry I was aiming for Trisha!"(which no one belives because she has incredible aim).

Lust asks more on that. And Granny mentions how Hohenheim and Trisha had been together for a bit amd were already living in the same home. And that pretty much immediatly after that whole "lack of subtly" the pair decided "despite not going through legal paperwork we are married now fuck you' and also bonus pregnancy announcement. Which has Lust relize Ed and Al aren't twins.

But it's weird to her. Because like. Hohenheim had a life here? He was with this woman for a few years and essentially got married (clearly the "don't go through the paperwork" is because he doesn't legally exist). But like. He had a wife and kids. One of the kids seems to have been actually planned. Why would he do that? And why did he leave? No one has answers on that, but Granny says that if he did leave, it was for good reasons. Not whatever the town gossips make up for fun.

Granny is a little sus about Lust's interests in all this because like. I kiiinda mentioned this before on my artblog but he way I draw Lust she actually looks a lot like "if Ed was a girl" and considering how much Ed looks like Hohenheim... They basically look somewhat related. Granny points that out and kinda pulls some Gaslight Girlboss Gatekeep of "nope no relation whatsoever my father just worked with him long ago but it's totally not relevant to anything!"

Anyway!

Later, Lust is wandering around Ed and Al's home because that fucker hasn't burned yet. And she just... Sees more of it.

True. It's been just the boys for years but there's still things like his clothes in the bedroom closet or something casually put on a shelf too high for Trisha to have reached.

The two rooms that really hit are the bedroom and the study.

Tbe bedroom is mostly untouched. But she sees a shelf of little statues. It's strange to her, but she realizes all the statutes are made from Alchemy. About half of them have very obvious marks, a sign of a talented but inexperienced maker. Seeing two distinct styles, she cam guess Ed and Al made those.

The rest are perfect. Intricate and flawless. If they weren't on the shelf with the others, she would've thought they were made by some master clay artist.

Alchemically made trinkets as gifts for someone they love.

The study is another beast altogether. A whole library on Alchemical texts. Some even older than Lust. All marked up with someone's notes in the margins. The same person's notes, as the handwriting doesn't differ. Clearly all these are important. So why leave them?

The real hard hitter is a journal Hohenheim left. Of course Lust reads it. The fact that the journal is written in Xerxian is just another punch to the gut, but thankfully Lust can read it.

It has a lot of things but the main info she reads is an entry from when Ed was just born and Hohenheim is discussing worries over how his whole "Philosophers Stone in Human Form" deal might be effecting Ed in terms of like. Genetics and stuff.

But the main thing Lust focuses on is that Hohenheim mentions discussing those fears with Trisha. That he told her what he was and his whole history and everything.

It's... Confusing to Lust. Why did Hohenheim just settle down here in this small ass rural town with a normal woman? What was it about her that compelled him to stay in one place so long? To settle down after years and have a kid? Having a second kid? And telling her about... Everything?

She finds no answer because, from all accounts, it seems like Trisha was just a normal, small-town girl. She didn't even have an interest in Alchemy! Just gardening. Why her? Why not someone at least... Great and powerful to match what he was? Even if no one could truly compare to what he was.

Everyone's reactions to Ed and Al sneaking off to do Human Transmutation:

Oh boy. This is a big plot point.

So the boys had quite a plan to trick the adults. Lust has gone on trips out of town for weekends(reporting back to Father), and she's also babysat the boys on a trip to Resembool before. So the boys wait until one of her trips and tell Roy and Riza that she's taking them on a different trip to Resembool. None of the adults know this until Lust comes back without them and has no idea where they were.

They put it together real fast and all three book it to the train station. Several hours of worried pacing of what could've happened.

Roy and Riza are entirely in the dark of what might happen. Lust though... She knows how the Gate works. And what could have happened.

She knows that There's a Price to pay. And while she was planning on encouraging the boys to go through the Gate anyway, she was supposed to be involved with it so she could trade a part of her Philosopher's Stone for their safety. Obviously just so they don't loose a Sacrifice to blood loss or later infection! Not because she cares or anything! But yeah without her, who knows what the Price may be?

They check the boys house first. They see plenty of blood, which is a terrifying sight. But they also see a trail leading out. And that if the boys are still alive, they probably went to the Rockbell place.

Which yeah. Granny's already waiting for them. She wants to yell at them for failing, but it would be hypocritical sinve she didn't notice the first time around.

She tells them the boys are alive but fucked up. Ed lost a couple limbs and Al is... Hard to explain.

Lust is the first to notice the suit of armor in the living room. The way it's arranged like a child, curled up and hiding, barely peeking out from behind the "arms". Light in it's "eyes", like someone's in there watching her.

She remembers the experiments done on the death row inmates. Puttin Souls in suits of armor. She's horrified, but not surprised, when it moves.

That is a whole conversation. Lust has to pretend she doesn't know how that works(while also questioning how the boys managed it). Al tells them what he remembers, which is just everythiny going wrong and then being in the armor and Ed missing some limbs.

We have a long emotional scene when Roy goes to talk to Ed.

Ed is very much not okay at this point and he's trying to be angry but it's just not really there. And he just asks why Roy is still there. He failed to keep them from fucking up why does he still care? Just go back home and leave them so he doesn't have to deal with them anymore.

Well that's just heartbreaking. Roy just talks to him about a lot of things. And the main thing was that this wasn't just "I'm gonna try and stop you but whoops failed that bye bitch" situation. He's not just going to drop the kids because he failed once. He's not even going ti drop them after months of pushing him away and being stubborn about the whole situation. They're a family now damn it.

And Ed kinda feels like that might be worse, because he threw that away ti go fuck up. But Roy tells him it's not "thrown away". They're still going to be here for him. And figure things out.

Later at night, Roy, Riza and Lust all kinda sneaknout individually. Which does lead to some comedy until Granny catches them and calls them idiots. But all of them were thinking of going to the boy's house and looking over their notes.

Roy and Lust are the only ones who can make heads or tails of the notes. Riza can follow some but gets lost and Granny never was an Alchemy person. Roy's looking more for "what went wrong" while Lust is focused more on "what went right". And Lust does find that though they came very close to making a Homunculus, they did do everything pretty right. She accidentally comments on that, which leads to a horrifying theoretical of "what if the boys managed to make a fake Trisha that looked and acted like her but wasn't her?". This also leads to the more disturbing question of "what was it they did manage to make"?

This is a thing that came up in Canon, but here they get answers of the thing that they made wasn't their mom, and you can't bring back the dead. Ed and Al take that news about as well as they did in Canon as well.

The "possible homunculus" thing comes up too with the others wondering if Al really is Al and not just... Something vaguely like him that Ed accidentally created. (Lust knows but can't tell how she knows rip!). Riza to the rescue on this one by asking Al about something Ed shouldn't know about. So that existential crisis is averted!

Of course there's discussion of what to do to help Ed and Al. Which... Does lead to getting back toward Canon of "have Ed become a State Alchemist". It's debated a lot because ya know. Sure it's the best option to help them have the freedom and access to stuff tk find shit but. Ya know. Roy already feels like he failed to protect these kids once already this is not helping.

Anyway! One more fun scene!

Please imagine once Ed gets the automail arm and just does the clap-slap Alchemy. And Roy and Riza are like "yo what the FUCK???"

[florenceandthemachine]

@hearteyesforbuck asked:

I have been dying for a meet-cute au where Eddie takes Chris to the gym once a week and they box a little together before Eddie spars; usually Chris sits by the ring and reads but one day Eddie finds him laying on a bench, lifting an empty bar while this really cute blond guy spots him and gives him encouragement ....

guess who’s asks are still broken?

Tumblr keeps adding the “Read More” into the ask box, which breaks the entire post when I try to post it. Why is it happening? No idea, but if anyone knows how to fix it, please let me know, this is getting really old.

anyway, fun fact that I just learned about myself—if you want me to dedicate 100% of my brainpower to writing 4.5k of something in one sitting, you just throw in Christopher Diaz.

Eddie liked to think of himself as some kind of a “do it yourself” kind of dad.

Most of the time, that was a good thing.

Kitchen faucet broke? No worries, Eddie has some plumbers tape and three different YouTube videos telling him how to fix it.

Car wouldn’t start? Not a problem, Eddie bought the full repair manual offline and knows his way around a wrench.

Christopher needed forty gluten free, egg free, dairy free cupcakes for class tomorrow? Eddie was perfectly capable of... admitting when he was outmatched by a stand mixer and calling thirteen local bakeries to see if they delivered, because his car still wasn’t starting.

Point is, if there was a way he could work on something, Eddie would at least try it—and needless to say, that got a little complicated where Christopher was involved.

Eddie still wanted to do a lot of it on his own. Chris was his kid, and no one else's, and he didn’t even like being away from him while Chris was at school—he wasn’t sure if that was guilt stemming from leaving Chris as a kid, or guilt about introducing Shannon back into his life only to have her wind up dead, or guilt about... well, pick-a-thing, but he was pretty damn sensitive about what he perceived he could do to help his kid.

Which is why, when Chris’ physical therapist gave Eddie some suggestions about how Chris could work on strength training at home, Eddie dove completely into the deep end, head first, no floaties.

Working on Chris’ fine motor skills had been cake. Writing, drawing, arts and crafts, even playing video games, all helped improve Chris’ hand eye coordination (and if Eddie ran out of room on the fridge for Chris’ masterpieces and started framing them instead, well, that was his own business, no matter how nosy the busybodies at Michael’s got).

Working on his gross motor skills, though, that was another story. They could go on walks, sure, and they did every day. Eddie could hook up the trail-a-bike to his own once or twice a week so Chris could ride along with him, without worrying about his balance, but those were both leg heavy activities—and while it was great that Chris was building his core strength and leg strength, Eddie wasn’t about to just strap a wrist weight to Chris’ arms and call it a ‘well rounded workout’.

Short of more physical therapy, Eddie was at a loss as to what to do—so when Google Maps pushed him off the 101 to avoid a wreck on his way home from work and he got caught by a stop light right next to "Ricky’s Boxing Gym”, Eddie felt like his prayers had been answered.

Over the next few months, they had set up a pretty good routine. Eddie would bring Chris to the gym, they would hop into one of the many rings, and he and his son would get a half hour of quality time, three times a week. Eddie had his own set of boxing mitts, and Chris thought that spending a half hour trying to punch his dad’s hand was the most fun a kid could have after school. Chris would tire himself out and sit on the bench, drawing or reading for a while more, while Eddie would actually spar with one of the staff members, get his own workout in, and then they’d go home.

Nine times out of ten, they’d stop for ice cream or pizza, and completely undo any of the workout they had actually done, but Eddie thought that was a small price to pay for the whoop of joy Chris let out when he actually managed to hit Eddie’s glove dead center.

Eddie’s sparring partner of choice (well, after Chris) was Tommy Kinard. He was nice enough, and kept Eddie on his toes, giving him plenty of time to look over to Chris to make sure he was safe, and happy, and occupied, and (“Dad, I’m fine! Go punch someone!”) okay, maybe he was helicoptering a little bit. He hadn’t really thought it was a problem until Kinard went on paternity leave, leaving him in the capable, and brutal, hands of Boscoe.

Boscoe was a beast. He didn’t know her first name—didn’t know if she had a first name—but what she lacked in pleasantries she more than made up with strength. If Eddie was being honest, though, he kind of loved it; even after the first day they sparred together, when he wound up limping into the 118, proudly admitting to Hen that he had been beat up by a girl.

The thing was, Boscoe was intense, and while that was a good thing, it gave him less of a chance to helicopter over Chris.

Which, okay, maybe that was a good thing too. Whatever.

He knew the gym pretty well by that point, and knew the people who worked there, knew he could trust Chris with any of them—which is why when he looked up after dodging a jab from Boscoe, and saw Chris absent from his bench, he only panicked a little bit.

When he managed to take a wider look around the gym and saw a familiar pair of shoes laying down on a workout bench, the rest of him obscured by a bigger, bulkier body, that panic went from 0-60 real quick.

“Hey!”

He only barely managed to dodge a glancing blow from Boscoe as he ducked beneath the ropes, grabbing a towel to blot at his face as he hopped down. His voice was little more than a quick bark through the gym as he stepped around another group of machines, his frantic pace slowing a little as he got into earshot.

“... yeah, come on buddy, you can do it! Come on, give me one more rep! You got this little man!”

Fuck, had this stranger actually given Chris a set of weights?

His temper was white hot by the time he finally got around the front of the machine, opening his mouth to shout, to get a manager, to do something, but the words died in his throat as he took in the scene before him.

Because Chris was definitely on the bench, and he definitely had his hands on the bar—the bar that was completely devoid of weights, Eddie noticed, the same bar that had two much larger, stronger hands attached to them. Hands that were probably doing all the actual work of lifting the bar, because Chris was laying back, unable to speak, because he was giggling so hard.

The bar landed back on the rack with a dull thunk as Chris pulled his hands back, sticking them straight up in the air triumphantly as he sat up. The man behind the bar gave a big show of leaning against the frame of the bench dramatically, fanning himself, giving Eddie a full view of an employee shirt, name badge, and the gym logo stitched across the polo he was wearing.

Whelp, that was almost very embarrassing for him.

“Holy cow, that was such a good job! Man, you have got to be the strongest kid I’ve ever met in my life!”

“Dad, did you see me? Buck says I’m super strong!”

Eddie had to admit, he was a little thrown by whatever was happening here, but Chris was obviously having a good time, and he felt the white hot anger dissipate into something a little less angry and a little more embarrassed.

“That was some pretty impressive work, buddy! Have you been holding out on me?” Eddie dipped down and tossed a few playful jabs at Chris, selfish only because he wanted to prolong the joy his son was obviously feeling, but it was all worth it as he was handsomely rewarded when Chris started giggling again.

The man—Buck, Eddie gathered—laughed, drawing Eddie’s attention upward, and for a moment, his brain short circuited, because there was no way on earth a gym rat could be this... pretty.

Because damn. Buck was pretty.

Pretty enough that Eddie was easily distracted, waxing poetic (internally, thankfully) about beefy arms and a plush lip that he didn’t notice what was happening until Buck stuck a hand out, smiling, and Eddie could only guess what was going on. He reached out and took the hand, his own smile hitching as Buck’s face slipped into confusion.

“Uhh—”

“...I was asking if you wanted me to take your towel for you and get you a fresh one.”

Oh. Right. Towel.

Eddie’s face burned as he pulled the towel off his shoulder, handing it over, giving a too-tight laugh as he nodded his head. “Yes! If you could get me a new towel so I could strangle myself in embarrassment, that would be great.”

Well, at the very least, that got Buck to laugh again—death would be worth it if that was the last sound he heard. “Sorry I kind of stole your kid. He was wandering in between the machines, and it’s my first week off of the evening shift, so I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt—but then he started asking about all the weights and pulleys and stuff, you have a really smart kid!”

Total Gym Hottie (Buck, his mind corrected. If he was going to drool over someone the least he could do was use their name) was complimenting his kid now, and Eddie was so star struck he was actually proud to say he didn’t stumble when Buck nudged his shoulder, head jerking back to the ring he had abandoned.

"...anyway, I think strangulation is the least of your worries, if I know that look, Boscoe has an entirely different death planned for you if you don’t get back in the ring. Go on, I’ll help little man here wheel you out on a gurney when she’s done with you.”

Buck sounded way too positive about that, and it was all Eddie could do to groan and walk back to the ring, tail between his legs.

Sure enough, even after he had the next day off, he was still sore when he walked into the 118 for his next shift.

--

Buck became easily, seamlessly, a part of their routine, in a way that probably deserved a little more insight on Eddie’s part, but insight was for suckers. At least two days out of the week, their schedules aligned—Eddie and Chris still worked on their exercises, but now it included Buck giving a dramatic play by play on the sidelines, talking up Chris like an announcer, or just otherwise causing shenanigans.

It was worth it, easily, because while Chris was certainly never a negative kid, Eddie had never seen him in brighter spirits. And Buck... well, anyone that could find a way to help out his son in a way that Chris clearly enjoyed earned an instant gold star in Eddie’s book. The fact that he was easy on the eyes wasn’t a bad thing, either.

“Diaz, I swear to God—”

Eddie only barely ducked under Boscoe’s extended hand, forcibly rooting himself back in the moment, looking guiltily back to her instead of watching Buck and Chris.

“—can you pay attention for like three minutes so I can hit you without feeling bad about it?”

Eddie tried, he really did, but it was hard. A few weeks had gone by since their initial meeting, and Eddie had gone from “wow he’s pretty” to “full high school crush” in no time flat. It wasn’t his fault, though—because what sealed the deal wasn’t the moment Buck had switched to tank tops over polos, or how happy Eddie was to spend time staring at Buck’s magnificent ass (and it was really, really magnificent, let the record show), it was how he interacted with Chris that sent him over the edge.

Buck was good with Chris, but somehow that was the understatement of the year. He was kind, and he was bubbly, and he was just in sync in a way that Eddie wasn’t even sure he had reached, and Chris was his son. Buck was patient in a way that seemed effortless, easily slowing himself down or changing what he was doing when he noticed Chris struggling, wether it was in going over a math problem while Eddie got the crap beat out of him or just showing him how some of the different machines worked.

Hell, right now, Eddie had his hands securely around Chris’ hips as he lifted the other male to a chin-up bar, helping Chris count out the pull-up’s he was doing—and while all Eddie could hear was Chris’ laughter, all he could see were the thick cords of muscle attached to Buck’s arms, lifting Chris like he weighed nothing.

Eddie wondered, not for the first time, if Buck could lift him like that.

Like she was a horrible mind reading pervert, Boscoe smacked him with an open hand—not hard enough to hurt, but not soft enough that he was going to ignore it.

“Diaz, this will be our last session together. Kinard is back next week—” Another punch, a quick jab that Eddie blocked with his forearms. “—so the least you could do is focus on me and not the apple of your eye over there.”

“Buck isn’t the apple of my—fuck—my eye, grow up.” Eddie huffed as he threw out a punch of his own, his hand knocked away violently, only barely dodging the sharp hook that Boscoe sent to him.

“God, I was talking about your kid, Diaz. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Oh.

Ignoring how red his face was, Eddie grumbled and threw another quick jab, though he missed completely as Boscoe stepped back, a grin on her face, and Eddie knew better than to trust that look. The last time he trusted that look, he had been talked into fighting bare-handed, and he still wasn’t sure his knuckles would ever really work again.

“You know, Kinard is supposed to take you back as a client, but I bet if you asked nice enough...”

Oh no.

“Hey, Buck!”

Oh no. Eddie looked up in horror as Buck easily lifted Christopher onto his shoulders—god, so much muscle—and jogged over, with the nerve to not even be out of breath when he smiled up to the pair in the ring. Eddie bit his tongue and leaned over to high five his kid, fully prepared to deal with whatever terrible thing was about to come his way.

“Kinard was supposed to take Diaz here back after he’s off leave next week, but I know he wanted to ease back into things after being away from the gym for a few months. You think you could spar with him in the interim?”

Oh, no, didn’t seem to cover it anymore. Eddie was having a hard enough time focusing on the task at hand when Buck was in the same building, he would be signing his own death certificate if he had to stare Buck in the face, and then try to hit said face. He hadn’t even seen Buck break a sweat before—he didn’t know if his little bisexual heart could take it.

He was somehow both relieved and regretful when Buck shook his head, looking plenty apologetic as he pulled Chris up and off of his shoulders, making sure that he was steady on his feet before he leaned up against the ropes. “Sorry, Eddie. I don’t really box, and besides, I think Chris and I are making real progress while you get your butt kicked. Show him the guns, Chris!” Buck said, and Chris immediately started some classic strong-man poses, Buck posing dramatically behind him, and Eddie felt his heart melt for two entirely different reasons.

Buck turned around mid pose as the door chime went off, giving Eddie ample time to count out the individual strands of muscle fiber in the moment before Buck relaxed, turning with a smile back to the gang in the ring. “Lena, that's my next client. Chris, Eddie, I’ll see you both next week, yeah?” He said with a grin before he fist bumped Chris and waved to Eddie, slipping back into Professional Buck mode. Eddie waved back, brows almost in his hairline as he looked back to Boscoe, who was scowling at him.

“So—”

“No, Diaz.”

“Wait, why not? Buck gets to call you Lena!”

“Beat me in the ring as often as Buck does and I’ll consider it.”

Eddie had his mouth open to retort when Chris cut him off, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he tilted his head. “Can I call you Lena?”

She didn’t even hesitate a moment, nodding her head seriously. “You can absolutely call me Lena, squirt.”

Chris promptly stuck his tongue out at his dad, and Eddie reacted in sort, falling to the floor of the ring as he grabbed at his chest. “The nerve! Betrayed by my own child, my own flesh and blood!”

Chris looked thoroughly unimpressed, sitting back on the bench as he started to pack up his schoolwork. “Lena, can you tell my dad to stop being such a drama queen?”

It wasn’t until they were both in the car, that Eddie, thoroughly beaten down by his son, his trainer, and his own brain for providing a play by play of Buck that day while he was in the locker room shower stall, really thought about what Buck said.

He didn’t box. Which was strange enough in a boxing gym, but whatever, there were plenty of machines that Buck could be working on instead.

But them Boscoe (god, he couldn’t even call her Lena in his head, it felt like she would figure it out and beat him to death) basically admitted that Buck regularly whooped her behind the ropes

If Buck wasn’t boxing in a boxing gym, what the hell was he doing?

--

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. Barely a week had passed before Eddie had received a call from Chim, all but begging Eddie to switch shifts so he could take the girl he had been seeing out on a proper date. The switch was a no brainer—Maddie seemed like a great girl, and as much shit as he gave Chim for... well, being Chim, he obviously wanted to see his teammate happy, especially when the only thing he would have to change was a gym day from a Monday to a Sunday.

If he had known that this would be the day that sealed his fate, he probably would have reconsidered the switch all together.

The gym was packed—which probably wasn’t surprising for a weekend day, but damn, Eddie had been glad he booked a ring with Kinard ahead of time. It was nice to see a familiar face in the gym anyway, one that wasn’t trying to beat the crap out of him in the ring, and once Kinard joined up with them, it was easy to shoot the shit. Eddie congratulated him on his step into fatherhood, ruffling Chris’ hair as he did—not that Chris noticed, busy scanning through the machines for a familiar blond head.

Not that Eddie could judge, when he was doing the same thing.

“Hey, I’m gonna toss my stuff in a locker. See you out here in a sec?”

“Yeah, sounds good! Buck and Boscoe are almost done in their ring, we have it next.”

Eddie was halfway to the locker room before what Kinard had said clicked in his brain, and he immediately did a 180, making a beeline to the rings set up on the far side of the gym, easily spotting the pair when he knew what to look for.

It was no wonder that neither he nor Chris had recognized Buck when they walked in—he was literally drenched in sweat, his usually fluffy blonde hair dark and slicked to his forehead, scowling around his mouth guard as he danced around Boscoe.

Boscoe, who Eddie had never seen so worked up. Damn, she really hadn’t even had to try during his matches. Wasn’t that a blow to the ego.

No, Buck definitely wasn’t a boxer, because this was a dance. Every move he made, he made with his entire body, his energy flowing through each form, moving easily and gracefully in a way that shouldn’t have been possible with such an incredible amount of force and flat out violence. He almost felt dazed as he followed Buck’s movements, but in the best possible way, his eyes snapping back and forth as he tried to trace where one hit ended and the next began.

“Wow.”

Eddie was glad that Chris said it, because he still couldn’t find the muscles needed to pick his jaw up off the floor. He didn’t know if Chris had followed him over to the ring or if his Buck-radar was just that good, but for the time being, Eddie was more than thankful for the minute distraction as he ruffled his kids hair again.

Boscue was moving more desperately as the match continued, launching into a series of quick jabs, but even Eddie could see where that was her downfall. Buck knocked her arm back with her last punch and sent a kick straight for her shoulder, but then he twisted his entire body off of the mat and his other leg was in the air too, and Eddie instinctively sucked in a breath as Buck locked her neck between his thighs. They both came crashing down to the mat, struggling impressively until Boscoe slapped Buck’s thigh twice, and then—

—and then Buck was all smiles again, beaming as he released her and took a knee on the ring, helping her back into a sitting position, spitting out his mouth guard with an excited moment of praise for her technique.

Eddie could not compute. This was his downfall. Eddie is dead, long live Eddie.

“Holy cow, Buck! That was amazing! You’re like... you’re like a ninja crime fighting super hero!”

Well, that was one way to put it.

Buck’s head whipped around at Chris’ excited outburst, lighting up when he spotted Eddie and Chris near the bench, eagerly scooting forward into a sitting position closer to the ropes.

“Thanks, little man! That was some mixed martial arts, it’s super fun. I’ve been teaching Lena for a few years, she’s getting pretty good!”

Buck’s grin slid into something a little more proud and pleased as he looked to Eddie, and Eddie felt every muscle in his body tighten as Buck’s gaze burned through him.

“What did you think of that leg lock, Eddie? Total knock out, right?”

Oh fuck, was Buck flirting with him now? That had to have been flirty, right? Come on, Brain, do something.

“... legs.”

“...my legs?”

“Buck, your... your legs.”

Buck’s smile looked a little more pinched as Eddie groaned, shaking his head. “Okay, I, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you this or I will completely die. Can I take you out to dinner sometime? I know a great place off the strip, you’ll love it, my treat.”

The look on Buck’s face was skeptical, at best, but at least he wasn’t shutting him down, giving Eddie the benefit of the doubt (and giving him a moment to get his brain back online). “Because of my legs?”

“No. Well, okay, you have amazing legs. And arms, though, and like... a stupidly handsome face, and I would be blind not to notice those things—” shit, Eddie probably sounded like such a shallow asshole right now. “—but I’m asking because you’re really smart. And you’re kind, so kind to Chris too, and you’re patient, and... Buck, you’re really really sweet. And I would love to take you out for a dinner date the moment you can look past my apparent inability to form a single coherent thought.”

After a moment that felt much longer than the three seconds it was, Buck sighed and leaned past Eddie, looking critically to Chris. He slid down to his stomach, squinting as he dropped down to eye level with the boy. “What do you think, Chris? Should I give your dad a shot?”

Well, at the very least, Buck was asking the one person that Eddie knew he always had in his corner; and sure enough, Chris delivered. “I think so. Dad really likes you.”

That’s his boy.

“Last week he spent my whole entire physical therapy appointment telling Dr. Wilson how much help you gave me and how nice you were and how much he appreciated it. It got kinda annoying.”

...well damn, Eddie wasn’t expecting to be called out by his own kid like that, but if the suddenly soft look Buck was giving him was any indication, it might have been the necessary push to get him to understand how serious Eddie was.

Eddie tried to keep his excitement tamped down when Buck nodded, sitting back up. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. Only because you managed to ask me out before I could ask you.”

Wait, Buck wanted to ask him out anyway?

“If you can land three hits on me in three minutes—should be easy after spending a weeks with Boscoe—then you can pick the time, the place, and I’ll even talk Lena in to letting you call her Lena. But if you don’t...” Buck reached through the ropes to help Eddie up, tossing him a wrap for his hands as he did. “... then I get to pick the time, the place, and you start training with me in MMA instead of going back to boring old boxing.”

Eddie blinked at him in abject horror as Buck dipped his voice low, seeing with terrible clarity exactly where Boscoe had learned her terrifying grin.

“That way you can see my leg choke up close and personal. Deal?”

The stakes were too high, and Eddie couldn’t say no.

He was screwed.

He was elated.

But fuck, he was screwed.

(Three minutes later, Buck asked if Eddie was free on Friday at seven, promised to pick somewhere nice, and gave him a searing kiss before he disappeared into the staff locker room. Eddie, on the other hand, needed a spatula to peel himself off of the floor of the ring.

He had never been so happy that he could barely move in his life.)

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 19

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky make the drive back home where he’s introduced to the family as your fake boyfriend. Absolutely everything is going to go great.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Domestic fluff

Word Count: 3.8k

AO3

The trip from New York to Boston was four hours filled with awkward silence. The only sounds to punctuate the tension were those of the drive itself, the hum of the engine, the sound of the windshield wipers, and the hiss of tires on wet pavement.

It was snowing fairly heavily, so when Bucky had offered to drive, you hadn’t given it a second thought. Chances of icy roads were high, and you figured he probably had some fast demon reflexes he could rely on to get you there safely.

Plus, it gave you an excuse to sneak subtle glances while he drove. Bucky was distractedly handsome in profile, and you wondered if he understood just how attractive he was. Even with his demon features hidden, tucked away under a kind of magical illusion you still didn’t understand, there was something about him that was… different. Like he was just a little too perfect to exist in the real world.

Or maybe you had it worse than you thought. You had half-hoped your feelings for him after the heigore attack had been the result of your close brush with death. That you had just been overwhelmed with gratitude and your self-confession had been a mistake. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case, and with each feeding you were only falling deeper in love with Bucky.

This trip, having him spend time with your family, in your childhood home, was only going to make it worse.

Shit.

The click of the turn signal drew you from your thoughts, and you looked out the snow-battered windshield to find the car exiting on the off-ramp. You hadn’t been paying attention but Bucky had known which exit to take without your guidance. An overwhelming mixture of emotions bubbled in your chest. You didn’t know what to do with them.

Ten minutes of navigating the streets of suburban Boston and you reached your destination. Bucky pulled up to the curb, put the car in park, and turned off the ignition. You couldn’t stop staring up at the two-story house, looking quaint and delicate covered in fresh snow. You hadn’t been here since last Christmas, and you didn’t know how to feel about it now. Too many things had happened and you weren’t the same. The last person who had walked into that house was a stranger to you now.

“Ready?”

Maybe he sensed your trepidation because Bucky’s question was soft and patient. You gave him a quick nod, unable to meet his eye. If you did, you’d start blushing all over again, reminded of how insane this plan was. But it was your plan, and if anything you were stubborn enough to see it through.

You got out of the car, immediately shivering and pulling your coat tighter around you as the snowflakes hit your face. You quickly opened the backseat and pulled out the carrier, shielding it with your body so poor Monster wouldn’t get pelted with snow.

You had always taken Monster on you with trips back home, and this would be no exception, even when Bucky had told you ‘the little beast can make it there on his own.’ When you asked what he meant, he’d tried to explain interdimensional travel through ‘wrinkles in physical space’ but your brain had shut off around that point. It had sounded more like a Tony Stark thing than hobgoblin magic, but what the hell did you know about cracks in the foundation of the physical realm?

Hurrying up to the front step, you shivered and scraped your boots on the doormat. You were just about to reach up to the doorbell when a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders.

You looked up at Bucky and he gave you a raised, amused brow. Right. Stage one of your plan and you’d already forgotten. Operation: Pretend to Have a Hot Boyfriend Who is Clearly Way out of Your League.

With an arm still slung around your shoulder Bucky reached up and pressed the doorbell. You clutched the carrier nervously, swallowing as the chimes echoed inside the house, accompanied by the sound of barking.

You’d forgotten Uncle Walter was bringing one of his dogs.

Shit. Shit.

Bucky stiffened beside you and your heart raced in panic. What if the dogs could sense he was a demon? They could tell these things, couldn’t they? Monster seemed to like Bucky, but he wasn’t a typical cat, and you were realizing you might be in over your head way more than you had originally thought—

The door swung open and you were pulled into a pair of warm arms in a tight hug before you could open your mouth to say hi. Bucky managed to retrieve the carrier from your hand as your mother hugged you tightly, squeezing the rest of the air out of your lungs.

“I missed you so much, sweetie! How was the drive? Did you have any trouble getting here? They said it was going to snow at least five inches and I know your car doesn’t handle the snow. You really should buy a new one, I keep telling you to—Oh, hello. You must be Jacob.”

Your mother finally released you, allowing you to breathe and try to sort out her whirlwind of questions, but all you could do was watch with a pounding heart as she turned to face Bucky.

You’d planned out most of the details of your fake relationship on the drive over. How long you’d been dating, where you’d met, etc. etc. It helped that Bucky already had a false identity that any of your family could look up if they wanted to (and they would, knowing how nosey they were), but…

…it didn’t prepare you for the actual encounter. Bucky had assured you he could handle himself, but now you were terrified. Not for your family for having a demon in their midst, but for the poor demon that was about to be exposed to the embarrassment that was your family.

“I am, ma’am,” Bucky said with a smooth, charming smile full of white teeth. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

You blinked. The person you were looking at wasn’t Bucky. Or if it was, he was a Bucky you didn’t know. There was a bright, sincere smile on his face, lighting up his blue eyes in ways you didn’t think was possible. He held out his hand to her, the absolute picture of a polite gentleman, and you didn’t recognize the grump, cantankerous demon you’d come to know at all.

Your mom broke into a smile herself, something you’d never seen her do with a stranger before.

“Oh, come here, give me a hug.”

Before you could say anything, she drew Bucky into a tight hug, leaving you stunned and speechless. She had never warmed up to any of the (few) boyfriends you’d brought home, and now she was embracing him like Bucky was…

…part of the family.

Oh, no.

What was possibly worse was the vaguely amused smile Bucky was giving you over her shoulder. You couldn’t blame him; the look on your face was probably quite the sight.

By the time your mother pulled back from the hug, Bucky’s charming poster boy smile was back on his face. Where he’d learned to do that, you had no idea, but your mother seemed immediately enamored.

Greeting Aunt Rena and Uncle Walter next was more intense. Not because of them, they were both sweet and welcoming to Bucky, but because of the dog. They’d left most of their small herd of Chihuahuas at home, thankfully, and Uncle Walter had only brought the one—his oldest. She was an ancient thing, white fur covering her face, but she ran up to Bucky as if she had very important business to attend to.

Bucky froze as if the dog was a Doberman and not a wad of fur that barely weighed five pounds. She sniffed at the toes of his boots, and then his ankles, unable to reach higher, and she stared up at him through big glassy eyes.

When you sure she was about to start growling or barking, warning the humans of the demon amongst them, she jumped up onto her hind legs and scratched at his leg, wagging her tail and drawing her lips back into a doggy grin.

“Honey never likes anyone,” Aunt Rena said with a startled look at your uncle before looking back to Bucky. “You must be a dog-person.”

Bucky had knelt down and cautiously put his right hand forward after pulling off the glove. He kept his demonic arm covered, and would have to do so for the entire trip, but he let the dog sniff his human hand.

When he went to pet her, she jumped up and licked his chin, startling a laugh out of him. Like all the other rare times you’d heard him laugh, it left you warm and flushed and gawking like an idiot.

“Yeah, I used to be,” Bucky answered, still smiling. He had pulled the little Chihuahua into his arms where she squirmed happily, still trying to lick his face. “Haven’t had a dog in a few years.”

There was a hint of wistful sadness there so faint you wondered if anyone else but you noticed. You hoped they didn’t. It was stupid and childish, but you were starting to feel… jealous? Left out? Over the fact everyone adored your fake boyfriend, and he seemed to like them back.

“I’m going to go get the bags,” you said, setting down Monster’s carrier and opening the door. The hobgoblin sauntered his way out of the cage and peered around as if looking over his kingdom.

Honey hunkered down in Bucky’s arms, trembling and whining at the sight of the pseudo-cat. The dogs had always been terrified of Monster, even though he’d largely ignored them, and now you knew why. Apparently they were fine with demons, but hobgoblins went too far.

“I’ll grab them,” Bucky immediately volunteered with an easy smile, setting the Chihuahua gently on the ground. You narrowed your eyes at him, seeing right through his attempts to win over your family, which was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. So why were you suddenly so annoyed about it?

“Be right back.”

Bucky kissed you on the head before retreating out the front door, and just like that, your annoyance was gone and filled instead with mortifying embarrassment when all three adults gave you various expressions of affectionate fondness and teasing.

You didn’t know if anyone had ever died from being kissed on the forehead, but if not, you were going to be the first.

Bucky brought in the bags and your mother directed him up to the guest bedroom. You were trapped downstairs for the next half hour with the obligatory catching up with your family, which was a trial even during the best of times, let alone right now when you were desperate to get away to talk to Bucky. He hadn’t come back downstairs since putting away the bags, and you’d wondered where he’d disappeared to.

Sure, they were your family, but you didn’t want to have to suffer with them alone.

When you were able to finally excuse yourself, pointedly ignoring your mother’s curious look, you went upstairs and found Bucky in the guest bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression blank and far away. The snow in his hair had melted and dried, leaving his long brown strands slightly wavy.

“Bucky?”

He drew in a sharp breath and looked up at you, blinking before rubbing his face.

“Sorry. Was… lost in thought. I didn’t mean to—I can come down if—“

You interrupted him by sitting beside him on the bed, close enough for your arm to brush his, but you didn’t reach out to touch him. You had a suspicion as to what had happened, and your stomach churned uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry about my family. They’re a little weird at first, but they mean well. I can tell them to lay off if they’re being too much.”

To your surprise, Bucky merely smiled. It was close-lipped and soft, but somehow still warm. Once you met his eye you couldn’t look away, and a part of you wondered if he realized the hold he had on you. A power that had nothing to do with demon pacts and bonds.

“It’s not that. Your aunt and uncle are wonderful, and your mom is… She reminds me of my own mother.”

It took everything in your power not to reach out and hug him, and you gripped the edge of the better tighter so you wouldn’t.

“What’s wrong, then?”

Bucky chewed his lip and looked away. It wasn’t until his gaze fell on the closet on the opposite side of the room that it finally clicked for you.

“Oh.” The breath rushed out of you as if you’d been gut-punched. “I didn’t… think to warn you.”

Of all the things you could have forgotten, how could you forget to tell him you would be staying in your old room? The room where he’d first come through the portal. Where the pact had first been made. Where you’d first met in an encounter you didn’t remember, the memories taken away by Buck himself?

“This is where your bed used to be,” he said, slightly patting the mattress you were both sitting on. “Only it was sideways against the wall. You had a dresser over there. Some kind of poster on that wall; I think it had dinosaurs on it. And…”

His brows furrowed but a small smile touched his lips. “A large stuffed animal cat in that corner. You really liked cats, didn’t you?”

You hunched your shoulders, but it was too late to stop the warmth on your cheeks. He really remembered all that?

“Yeah. Cats were my thing, I guess.”

Remaining quiet for a moment, you finally had the courage to ask. “Should… should we rent a hotel? I mean, if it’s too… too weird staying here. Because of… you know. The whole portal thing… and… all that.”

“Why would it be weird for me?”

His genuinely confused tone forced you to look him in the face. He really didn’t seem to understand what you were getting at judging by the furrow on his brow.

“It sounded like it had been kind of traumatizing for you, right?” you asked. “I mean, I really don’t mind if you want to go somewhere else—“

He said your name, softly and with so much fondness it made your face burn again.

“I don’t think I’ve made this clear, but… you saved me that day. Did you know that?”

You shook your head, eyes firmly planted on the faded pink carpet under your feet.

“Well, you did,” he continued, his voice a gentle rumble that sent chills up your spine. “I was in a literal Hell before I came through that portal. And I was trapped there for a long, long time. I don’t know how you did it, and frankly, I don’t really care. I’m just grateful it happened, though I wish…”

You chanced a glance up at him when he stopped speaking, forcing yourself to meet his eye no matter how difficult it was. This seemed important to him, so it was important to you, too.

His blue eyes roved over your face slowly, as if memorizing every detail, and it was very difficult to keep still under that piercing stare. It had always had the strange effect of both making you want to hide from it while also making you want to drown in it.

“I wish what had followed hadn’t happened. If I hadn’t accepted that toy from you, none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be trapped, forced to be a… a sex slave.”

“A sex slave?” You scoffed, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “Bucky, I’m not a—“

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, desperate and earnest, as if needing you to understand. “That’s exactly what you are. No matter how we dress it up. You bringing me home to your family doesn’t change that. Nothing will.”

You turned away from him, now out of frustration rather than shyness.

“Bucky, we’ve been over this already. However this happened, whatever the situation is, I’m not going to blame you. You’re not a monster, you’re not hurting me, and I refuse to hate you no matter how much you hate yourself.”

He opened his mouth to argue but you beat him to it, and interrupted him to say, “I like you, Bucky. Okay? I like you a lot. So… shut up.”

His brows rose high on his forehead and you flushed but refused to look away, ready to argue with him if he refused to listen.

But all Bucky did was smile the tiniest amount and said, “I haven’t had someone tell me to shut up in a long time. Maybe it was due.”

He was definitely teasing you now, and the tension in your shoulders relaxed. You much preferred teasing over self-loathing.

“Yeah, well, sometimes you say dumb stuff.” You raised your chin, daring him to contradict you. “You’re kind, likeable. Charming. My family is already about to adopt you and they’ve known you for less than a day.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause they don’t know me. If anything, they’re fond of the chipper, bright-eyed idiot I used to be. That’s where I’m pulling that act from. My methods may be a few decades old but parents are parents.”

“You weren’t an idiot,” you said softly, remembering now the pictures you had pulled up when you first researched the demon you’d encountered in your bedroom. He really had been the starry-eyed youth Bucky described, but you remembered very clearly the stark difference between some pictures during the war. The ones where he’d looked like any other young man in his 20s, excited to go off and fight for his country.

And then there had been the ones where he’d still smiled at the camera, but his cheeks had been gaunt, the circles under his eyes dark, and the glaze of his eyes had been haunting.

The after-HYDRA pictures.

Blowing out a breath, trying to expel your sadness physically as well as mentally, you leaned your head against his shoulder. You waited to see if he tensed or moved away, but all you felt was the warm hardness of the plates of his arm underneath his jacket.

“You don’t know that,” Bucky said, voice equally soft. “I could have been the biggest idiot in the world. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was. Steve would agree with me.”

“Steve Rogers?” you asked, perking up. Captain Rogers’ backstory was practically known to everyone on the planet, and you’d waited for Bucky to mention him. You’d never imagined you’d get to know Steve Rogers’ best friend. Or that his best friend had turned into a demon.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he said, voice lilted with amusement. You took it as a sign that this was a safe topic, so you pressed on.

“What was he like?”

Bucky snorted again, and you weren’t expecting the arm that wrapped around your shoulders. You prayed he didn’t feel your heart thumping against your ribcage.

“Reckless. Too eager to jump into a fight he knew he would lose. Stupid and brave in equal parts. Reminds me of you, actually.”

“Thanks.”

He chuckled at your dry tone. “I mean it, though. About the brave thing. Most people would have turned tail and run at the first sight of me.”

You shrugged under his arm, nestling your cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m not brave. I’m afraid, all the time, of lots of things. But you didn’t scare me.”

He squeezed his arm tighter around you and a pleasant warmth prickled along your skin.

“You probably should have been. Not very smart of you to try and befriend a demon.”

“Hmm. Guess we’re both idiots then, huh.”

“Guess so.”

After a few seconds of silence, you added, “So, we’re definitely friends then, right?”

“Oh, my God,” he groaned.

“You did say I befriended a demon—“

“Woman.”

You snorted out a laugh, and his long-suffering sigh brought out a few more muffled giggles. He was too easy a target, and you were pretty sure he liked the teasing regardless of how much he moaned and groaned about it.

Besides, he hadn’t contradicted you. Knowing that he saw you as at least a friend, if nothing else, made the trip already worthwhile.

You could have remained like that for the rest of the day, leaning against Bucky’s warm side with his heavy arm around your shoulders. Hell, you would have been content with this for the rest of your life.

Did Bucky have any idea how you felt? What would he have thought, if he did? Knowing his levels of self-loathing, he wouldn’t be ready to hear it.

Which was one of the reasons you had invited him on this trip. All the excuses you had given Bucky were true: you had the feeding to think about, and there was the possibility of other demons lurking around.

But the true reason you’d asked him to come was to show him how you felt. That you trusted him, cared for him, and wanted him to be a part of your life, bond or not. There was always the chance it would backfire and that he would push you away again, but you would rather try and fail then never try at all. Imagining leaving Bucky alone during the holidays, holed up in that freezing tower, was unacceptable.

He would just have to suffer with overbearing family, Christmas carols on the TV, and heavily-spiked eggnog with you instead.

“We should probably go back downstairs,” Bucky said, gentle puffs of air tickling your hair. “Don’t want them to think I abducted you.”

“Mmm.”

You’d meant to say something more intelligent than that, but you hadn’t realized how tired you were from packing this morning and then the drive. It was getting close to dinnertime, and you could already smell the spices from something being cooked downstairs.

“Come on.”

Bucky easily lifted you to your feet and you protested with a resentful sigh. His returning smile made your stomach do funny flips, but it was nothing compared to the squirming it did when you remembered you would be sharing a bed with Bucky for the next few days.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Next Chapter

[decalinethespacecat]

The Games that We Play-Ch.1

A simple exploration.

That's all this mission was supposed to entail.

Well, in a sense, perhaps they had accomplished such. Stranded on a new, foreign world, brimming with energy, and teeming with organic life. And with that, it was the very life that they had been forced to alter themselves to, the very lifeblood that dwelt on this strange sphere in too great an excess, and thus, should they not adhere to the laws set by this new world, it could mean the loss of their functionality, or even more, their own sparks. Of course, ironically enough, it hadn't just been themselves that had to follow this code: the very ones that had caused their stranding here had also been subject to it. And even more, one amongst their former pursuers had, albeit forcibly at first, integrated amongst their numbers. Now, as the two parties faced each other atop this mountain, five against five, the playing field had been leveled.

The two heads of the opposing sides made direct eye contact with each other, the differences between them evident in far more than just their conflicting ideals and ambitions. On one side stood the stalwart, strong form of a darkly furred primate, leaning on his knuckles as the species he had scanned were inclined to do. His eyes were dark, yet soulful, and in the minds of some of his fellow explorers, dare they say, they appeared almost akin to the small creatures that had aided and catered to their ancestors. On the other was, for all intents and purposes, a complete antithesis of everything the primate was. He bore the outer flesh of a large theropod coated in a sheen of violet with a series of green ridges trailing along his back, ending at the base of his tail. Rows of sharpened, ivory teeth lined the inside of his powerful jaws, small, yet menacing red eyes full of intent glowering back at the primate opposite of him.

"Across the galaxy," the ancient reptile spoke, voice low and smooth. "It has come to this, Optimus Primal." The primate stood his ground, along with the other four organically based Cybertronians with him. "Face to face," a smile crept onto the theropod's features. "Tooth to claw...yesss." Oh yes indeed, he had been clamoring for this very moment! "Have you anything to say?"

The primate's face grew stern. True, he had not set out on this expedition with the intent to seek combat. Yet ultimately, Primus, it seemed, held other plans for them. "I'd say, that's prime." he simply stated before bearing his elongated canines. "Let's do it!"

...

"YEAHHHH!" a chorus of young voices cried out, five to be exact, as they charged in unison at a collection of five pieces of notebook paper held up by a used popsicle stick glued onto the back, each of them stuck into the ground so they would stay in place. The owners of the voices came forward and did 'battle' with the pieces of cut-out paper, lightly striking and flicking the fragile, crudely drawn depictions of their current 'adversaries'.

This was the third time they needed to be redrawn, and frankly, no one was wanting to have to do all five Predacons all over again. Especially if one of them was a young adolescent with questionable drawing skills. If anything, at least they LOOKED like how they were supposed to this time. Sort of.

One amongst the five, a boy with tannish skin and a darkly colored buzz cut, grabbed the cutout of Megatron (at least, it was supposed to be Megatron) and purposefully fell to the ground, bringing the piece of colored paper on a stick close to his face, raising one hand to keep it back, as if it weighed a good deal of weight.

...

The jaws were close. So insultingly close. Just a few centimeters more, and that slagging ape's head would be firmly in his jaws! "Admit defeat, Maximal!" Megatron bellowed, Primal not wavering, yet it was evident that he was struggling against the Tyrannosaurus' massive head. "The Energon shall be ours!"

The silverback needed to act fast. He held no intention of obeying the violet Predacon's demand, yet he needed some leeway. He needed to at least get the larger beast off of him! "Not if I can help it!"

...

"Yah!" the tan boy hollered, behaving as if he had just flung a two-ton boulder off of him, yet the paper cutout landed in the grass with little more than a soft crinkle. "Surrender, Megatron!" he proclaimed, his voice far from the authoritative, triumphant Maximal he was imitating. "You're scrapped!"

'Megatron didn't retort back, the boy realizing then what kind of corner he had just put himself in.

"Uh, guys?" he called out, the other four children ceasing their 'battle' against their respective Predacons and turning towards him. "Who's not fighting at this part?"

One boy amongst them, African and with a top of short, black curls, turned to him. "They all are!" he answered back.

"Yeah, but who's being shown fighting?"

"Uh…" the other boy paused, thinking for a moment. "I think it's just Optimus and Megatron."

"Ok." the tan boy went over to pick up the Megatron cutout, his dark eyes taking notice of a nearby tree. "You mind? I can't really chase myself."

...

The impact was immediate, and even if it had been mere seconds, the shock that came with the splintering rock formation behind them both clearly affected Primal more than his adversary.

A fact that they wasted no time in taking advantage of.

With one swift, precise bite, Megatron put the jaws of the mighty beast he had donned as his alternate form to proper use, the premaxillary teeth that once belonged to the likes of the extinct predator tore through the alpha primate's thigh, right above the joint. Primal released an involuntary wail of agony, the sharpened instruments having torn through his alt mode's synthetic flesh and down to the fragile circuitry and wiring underneath. Not feeling satisfied with just one sample of the Maximal's mech fluid lightly bathing his tongue, Megatron bit yet again, only this time, Primal seemed to have better prepared for it. He was still in a great deal of pain, yes, yet now he could better channel it, using the horrid sensations and transferring it into an unquenchable need to fight back, beginning with delivering a hardened chop with both hands to the top of Megatron's scaly dome.

This blow had put the behemoth reptile in the same position Optimus had been mere seconds prior. And due to the blow he had delivered, it took the Tyrannosaurus a moment to realize that, surprisingly enough, the foolish ape had somehow found it in him to up and began swinging him around by the tail! As soon as the world had begun spinning for him, it stopped, only to then realize he was flying right into the ceiling of the mountainous structure, crashing down with a resounding thud that shook the entire landscape.

"Gah!" Optimus cried out, hissing as he analyzed the injury done to his leg. True, he had managed to stand to deliver that rather 'creative' maneuver against his aggressor, yet it now dawned on him that there was no way he could walk with a tear like this. And internalized repairs wouldn't be able to undo damage such as this. As if to add insult to injury (literally in a sense), the reptile had somehow managed to get up. "It…" Optimus stammered, forcing himself to rise. "It's over, Megatron!"

"It is NEVER over! Nooo!" He could scarcely believe it at first, yet given how the brute's forces traveled all this way to engage them, perhaps anything was possible. After all, what other Cybertronian before them had been forced to adopt a secondary skin of organic flesh? Despite the painful surges the multiple Energon crystals sent through his true form, Megatron did not waver, aiming and sending a missile right in the direction of the wounded Primal. "For if I must die...I shall take you with me!"

There was no way he could avoid this. Its proximity was too close. The urge to flee was great, yet Primal stood firm. He would stand tall and accept this. He had begun to shut his eyes, awaiting the inevitable. 'Till all are one…'

Yet one, he was not yet to be.

The missile had never come to meet him.

...

"Wait, you want me to do what?" one amongst the group questioned with a quirked brow, this time the child, despite the role, a young girl with skin slightly darker than the boy roleplaying as Primal, her thick, black hair tied back in a low ponytail. In her hands was a wooden sword, one that she had made sure to bring each and every time she met with the others. Yet now, the African boy was asking her to do something a little...odd with it.

"Well, in the episode, Dinobot blocks it with his tail."

"So, what? You want me to put this on my butt?"

"Uh...well, it'd be accurate."

It sounded absurd, not to mention difficult to pull off. Sure, she didn't really know how to properly use the sword, yet at least she could make use of it as something of an improv baseball bat. But nooooo, when she batted the "missile" away like that, they had to stop so that they could do it 'the right way'.

"Fine." she moaned, rolling her eyes and tossing the crumpled piece of paper (Waspinator got stepped on, AGAIN) in the African boy's direction. "Throw it again."

...

The one that had once been under Megatron's command, the one that had blocked their way and saw fit to end his life on the stone bridge, allowing the Predacons to catch up with them, had just been the one to strike the incoming projectile with his striped, reptilian tail, sending it off course and away from them both.

The former Predacon and his would-be usurper had just miraculously saved him from certain death.

This revelation was given no time to truly be dwelt on at the present, for the missile had found itself a new target, the explosion sending a chain reaction that soon caused the entire mountain to shake.

"It's going to blow!" a brown rhinoceros bellowed, the once battling Predacons quickly realizing the danger they were all in and making a hasty retreat, leaving their downed leader behind.

"Time to fade, heroes!" one amongst the Maximals shouted, a green-eyed cheetah, he making himself scarce along with Primal and the rhino, a large, grey rat also atop of the horned creature's back, a velociraptor racing alongside with them off of the mountain. None dare to look back, lest they waste precious seconds before the entire formation exploded.

Thankfully, they thought as they now found themselves a good distance away, all of them had managed to make it out of that close call in one piece. All four...no, all five of them.

Optimus turned his gaze towards the newest member of their group, his pale eyes gazing back into the silverback's own. "Thanks." he simply stated, the ancient reptile somewhat taken aback by this gesture.

"My actions did not imply loyalty, Optimus." the striped theropod clarified, momentarily averting his gaze, his voice low and raspy, yet strangely enough, sincere. "I owe you my life." He admitted the act, even if he dare not openly say it, was rather humbling. "Now we are merely...even."

The silverback took no offense to this. In fact, to the raptor's befuddlement, he simply presented him with a satisfied grin. "I'll accept that."

"Yeah, well, uh.." The rat, having long gotten off the rhino's back, wasn't exactly ready to allow this saurian into their ranks, no matter what Optimus declared. Orders or not, he'd make his opinion on "Chopperface", or rather, "Choppahface", known for a long while. Still, there was a burning question on his mind. "At least Megatron's gone, and so is the Energon!" he declared, voice rising in hope. "Can we go home now?"

It was too good to be true. The shaking of his leader's head cemented this fact. "No, Rattrap." the gorilla solemnly stated. "For now, we're stranded here with the Predacons on this unknown planet." the situation sunk in for all of them now, truly. "Megatron may be back, and there is still more Energon. If they ever get enough, they could conquer the galaxy." he could see the trepidation etched into their features. Indeed, he would be a liar if he said he did not share in their collective concern. Still...there was no other way. Their opposition had to be stopped. And whether it be here, Earth, or even Cybertron, his conviction would have remained the same. "So for now," he began, looking towards the endless, blue horizon above. "Let the battle be here, on this strange, primitive world. And let it be called," he shouted, extending his fist towards the skies. "The Beast Wars!"

...

"YEAH!" The five shouted in chorus, full of nothing short of absolute triumph and exhilaration, the sight of the untamed, unconquered canyon and mountainous landscape the Maximals stood upon at the forefront of their mind's eye.

Of course, after a few moments of this, said landscape steadily began to fade, the mowed, fertile, green lawn of the African boy's yard coming to consume the place stationed in their imaginations.

"Uh, ok." a voice amongst them spoke, said voice belonging to another girl in the group, though contrary to the other young lady with them, she bore lighter skin and a head of long, red locks. "So...do we go over the toy fund now or later?"

"I think we've got a more immediate problem than that." the African boy said, picking up the crumpled-up piece of paper. "Somebody's got to redraw Waspinator. Again."

The skies had darkened, the sun just beginning to set. Yet in the small, packed enclosure of the cubical-shaped treehouse, none of the five children paid any mind, a serious and passionate debate taking place amongst them.

"No way! I did it last week! It's Tim's turn!" a blonde boy with scruffy hair protested, crossing his arms.

"Last time I checked," the African boy clarified, gesturing an accusing finger back at the blonde. "You only did it last week because you skipped out on the last time it was your turn."

"Hey, I was sick that week!" he protested.

"Yeah, that was boring." The black-haired girl admitted. "I was tired of acting out that episode where Cheetor got kidnapped by Tarantulas."

"You got tired?" another girl questioned, she of lighter skin and a head of fiery red hair, even if her voice was meek and smooth. "I had to make sure the cutout we made didn't get too messed up."

"At least Rattrap got to do stuff in that episode!' the other girl retorted, looking to her wooden sword. "Dinobot was barely in that one!"

"And we can only do so many with just five of us!" the blonde added in. "Soon, it's going to get to where we're going to have to start making up our own episodes!"

"Ok, look!" the tan boy interjected, the other four quieting down. "We're getting off track. The point is that Waspinator got messed up, again, and somebody's got to make another cutout-"

"Again." the other children finished for him, he somewhat startled by how quickly they picked up on what he was about to say.

"Right, so one of us is going to have to do it. But we've got to find out who's turn it is to make a new one-"

"Timothy Leblanc!" each and every one of the five adolescents jumped at the voice piercing through their private space up in the crudely constructed, yet still standing treehouse. And whilst the feminine, rather irritable voice called out for just one of them, each didn't need to ask what this also meant for them. "It's thirty minutes past five now, and you're STILL up there?! Your father's going to get here in less than five, and your dinner's had to be heated up twice already!"

The African boy winced, looking at his friends with a rather sheepish expression. "I've got to probably get going too." the red-haired girl confessed.

"Me too." the blonde added. "Mom's going to kill me if I don't do the dishwasher before the day's done."

"And my mom wants me to help her with the...the…" the black-haired girl paused. "I think she called it a…bistek tagalog?"

"A what?" Tim questioned.

"Your mom always makes the weirdest stuff." the blonde added.

"Whatever it is, she wants me to help mix the sauce and put the onions in."

"So, who's going to redraw…" the tan boy began, only to find that all eyes were on him.

A few hours later

"Thanks a lot!"

"Yeah, totally!"

"You're always so thoughtful!"

"Yeah, the best!"

Even now, he was STILL seething mad at all of them.

True, there really wasn't a rush, and he could probably get it done during study hall tomorrow, but still, once again, he had been sacked with the task of redrawing Predacons (correction: one particular Predacon) AGAIN, when the rest of them knew well and good that it was someone else's turn! Still, in a way, he sort of knew why he got this particular task the most, mainly because he was the only one that could actually make them LOOK sort of accurate. As accurate as a fourth grader that had a decent enough grade in Art could get.

'Yeah, well, let's see them when we act out 'Starscream's Ghost'!' the boy thought, scribbling a green crayon in the thick pencil lines that made up Waspinator's outline. 'I'll be Waspinator on that one! And...oh wait, no.' he just remembered. 'We don't have anyone that can be Tigetron or Airazor.' let alone did they have anyone that could've filled in the role of Blackarachnia or Inferno.

'And we can only do so many with just five of us!' the blonde boy's words echoed in his mind.. 'Soon, it's going to get where we're going to have to start making up our own episodes!'

"Inuksuk!" a man's voice said from the other side of the door, the young boy ceasing his doodling. "Don't tell me you're still up!" the child inwardly groaned at hearing his full name. Culture and heritage aside, he still hated it. "Have you even brushed your teeth yet, young man?"

Brushed...oh shoot!

The older, far taller adult standing outside of the boy's room was knocked back by the door, quite literally, slamming in his face, a small figure rushing out and into the bathroom. "Well, at least you know to stand out of the way next time." a woman shouted at the bottom of the stairs.

"Y-Yeah...guess so…"

Bathroom

Not so much brushing as he was grinding the bristles in and around his teeth, yet from what he could see in the mirror, his mouth was foamy enough for it to count! Speaking of which, he took a moment to eject said foam from his mouth and into the sink, washing it down and getting out the dental floss, tearing off just enough (just as mom showed him) and tying the ends around his fingers (just as mom showed him, though he struggled more with that particular step). Inuksuk looked good and hard in the mirror at his still growing teeth, a couple of empty spaces from recently pulled ones serving as areas he needed to keep extra clean, this particular tip from his father (of whom he just realized he might've just slammed in the face with a door).

He'd have to apologize when he got out. Assuming he hit him hard.

Still, as the young boy garbed in a simple, grey t-shirt and worn down, dark grey sweatpants navigated the floss through his available teeth, he found one thought running through his mind on repeat as he went on with his (very belated) nightly routine.

"Soon, it's going to get where we're going to have to start making up our own episodes!"

...

"...making up our own episodes!"

Making up their own episodes...hmm.

Perhaps the better term for it would've been 'making up our own stories, as really, how were a bunch of kids going to get ahold of anything better than a handheld camera, let alone, by some miracle, contact Mainframe with a stack of papers detailing these new exploits and adventures of the Maximals?

Still, Tim thought, as he spit out the strong tasting, even stronger stinging Listerine, it could work.

Yeah, they'd have to go through the process of deciding on a plot, a script, who'd be the 'star', all things that, frankly, he would've been more than content to leave for the fine folks who were in charge of the show to decide. But, seeing as it was evident that they'd probably be playing out these reenactments with just five, Timothy couldn't help but entertain the potential Mathis' proposal brought with it. What if, just if, they did go through with it...what could they do? Or perhaps the better question was, what COULDN'T they do?

Oh man, oh geez, oh gosh, oh man! He had just meant it as a way so that they wouldn't have to act out the same stuff over and over again! But thinking about it now...oh geez, he was near slapping himself for not suggesting it earlier!

...

"Mathis, bed!"

"Ok, mom! Just a minute!"

The blonde boy heard the door to his room open, a hand setting itself on his shoulder.

"It's been ten." a low, feminine voice told him. "And unless you want to go through the ritual of me setting the radio on at max volume for you in the morning...and also, did you even brush, let alone take your pills yet-"

"Ok, fine." Mathis groaned, getting up from the dining room table and to the foot of the stairs.

"Clean up first."

He turned back to face his mother, she bearing his blonde locks, yet not his chocolate brown eyes. "But didn't you just say-"

"It's going to take you five minutes to get all these crayons and pencils up." she answered, a small, curt grin coming to her lips. Once again, she foiled him. As the young boy went back over to the table and began putting the art supplies back in their proper boxes, correctly, as she was watching him, the woman couldn't help but notice what her child had been drawing. "Who's that?" she asked, picking up the piece of lined paper. "One of the characters from that show you and your friends watch? Um…" she tapped her finger on her chin, trying to recall whom exactly her son fawned over. "Cheetara or something?"

"That's Thundercats, mom." Mathis moaned. "It's Cheetor from Beast Wars." well, technically, that wasn't what it was called over here, yet he and his friends were in mutual agreement that 'Beasties' sounded ridiculous, not to mention stupid. Besides, Optimus outright even said that the fight they were in was called the flipping 'Beast Wars'!

"Ah, right. He's the...leopard, right?" This earned the woman another groan. "Kidding, kidding." She scanned the crude markings meant to resemble the computer-generated robot cat (at least she thought that was what he was, she only saw the show in brief intervals), and found a strange, new figure beside him. "Who's this?" she questioned her child, gesturing to the right of (what was supposed to be) Cheetor.

"Oh, that's…" Mathis began to answer, stopping before he could finish. "Well...I don't really know what his name is, but he's somebody I made up."

"Ah, like it's supposed to be you in the show?"

"No, it's not me. It's someone I made up." the boy affirmed. "He's a Saber-toothed Tiger."

(AN-I know it's more accurate to call it a Saber-toothed cat or Smilodon, but being a kid in the 90s, and in general, a kid, everyone I knew, both other kids and adults around me, just called it a Saber-toothed Tiger.)

"Oh, ok. That explains the teeth." his mother nodded.

"Yeah," Mathis confirmed. "There's only five of us, so we only have so many episodes we can act out as the Maximals. So I got to thinking we could maybe make up our own episodes."

"And in turn, make up your own characters?"

"...yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

"Yeah, well," the woman ruffled the younger boy's hair. "You have all the time in the world to do that tomorrow and on the weekend. Right now, everyone, even Saber-toothed Tigers, need to get up into bed. And they definitely need to keep their teeth clean"

"Before they have pills in some ice cream?"

She smiled, going over to the freezer. "I guess that can be arranged. Though, I'm not sure how you could eat anything with chompers like that."

...

'Making up our own episodes…' she wondered, as she climbed on into bed, her long, red locks contrasting greatly with the ivory fabric of her pillow and pale pink of her sheets, as well as a majority of her room, of which followed in a similar color scheme. 'How are we going to do that when we can't even save up enough to get some actual toys?'

Indeed, before the whole discussion involving who was going to be tasked with re-drawing Waspinator, she had collected what everyone had to offer that week to the 'toy-fund'. Inu (of which she and the rest had called Inuksuk, seeing as his name was somewhat difficult to pronounce) was the only one to have actually brought a full dollar along with herself. Everyone else ranged from fifty to no more than five cents.

'Five cents?!' she remembered losing her cool at that. 'Really, Mathis?!'

'Hey, it was hot out!' he in turn retorted to her. 'And Dr. Pepper was RIGHT there in the machine!'

She was still more than a little peeved about it, but ultimately, there was little that could be done now. 'We've gotten up to twenty-five, but if each toy costs around ten dollars, each separate toy, then…' her hand traveled to her forehead, realizing in horror what this meant. 'We're going to have to get around fifty dollars total! And that's not even with tax!' she flopped onto her bed, her red hair fanning out underneath her. 'We're going to be stuck using paper cutouts for the Predacons forever!'

This pessimistic musing, however, was cut off by the cracking of her door, her blue eyes watching as a large, furred, quadrupedal creature squeezed through the opening it had created and made its way to her bedside, sitting on the small, white floor mat stationed beside it.

"Hey, Zoe." The young girl greeted the massive Main Coon, this vocal utterance being all the greyish-brown feline needed to act, hopping on her bed and planting herself at the footboard, curling up and tucking her head under her tail. She folded her hands underneath her head, still more than a little perturbed that it'd be even longer before she and her friends would reach the desired goal of however many dollars before all the Predacons could be purchased. Assuming they would even be able to find any at a Wal-Mart or Toys R' Us. "If anything," she spoke aloud to herself, Mathis' words coming back to her. "Making up our own episodes would probably mean that we'd have to do even MORE work. Because then, we're going to start making up our own Maximals and Predacons!"

...

'Which would be so cool!' The Filipino, black-haired adolescent mentally declared, having been warned already to not be too loud, and that she had school to look forward to in the morning. 'Looking forward to school...yeah, dad, that was a REAL good one.'

'It'll be even better if you get in those eight hours. Now haul yourself up to bed.'

Frankly, she wasn't sure she'd be getting any sleep tonight. Not with this running through her head.

'Like...like there are already characters that are toys that aren't in the show yet! Like Claw Jaw, or Armordillo, Wolfang, and…' as she continued on, listing each and every Maximal and Predacon she had seen on the shelves (Dinobot WOULD be hers! Eventually.), her brown eyes surveyed her environment before she got out of bed and locked the door to her room, then went back to her bed and cut on the lamp stationed on her dresser. She then opened the single drawer on the small, wooden dresser, an even smaller, black notebook, and a single, number-two pencil residing in the compact space, the label 'Lulu' stuck on the cover via a small piece of paper and tape.

'Ok,' she mused to herself, grabbing the two objects and flipping open to a page with just enough room. Then, she began writing. 'Now...there was Claw Jaw, Armordillo, Wolfang…'

...

'...some guy that's a German Shepard...don't know how that happened.' indeed, he didn't, but lo and behold, it WAS indeed a toy. Inu rolled around on his left side. 'Maybe we could start with something a little more simple. Like...like after they left the mountain, they got the ship up and running better.' Despite his eyes being closed, scenarios and 'what ifs' began playing out in his mind. Yeah, that could work. Lulu could maybe play out how Dinobot settled in...and Mikaela could come up with some stuff to throw at her as Rattrap does in the show. Granted, that in itself might've been a little difficult. The Filipino girl could play out her role well enough without much assistance, yet the redhead kind of needed some 'coaching' on how to be snarky. Bizarrely enough, she could channel the rodent-based Maximal quite well whenever the subject of the 'toy fund' was brought up.

Inu continued to ponder and think, drowsiness steadily beginning to creep in, the faces and forms of his small circle of friends steadily transforming into the characters they portrayed in their reenactments.

'Hey.'

Yet...as he drifted off, the smallest bit of his mind that was still conscious noticed that despite the boy himself playing the role, the transformed silverback in his mind seemed to be paying attention to something or someone ahead of him. Something or someone that clearly wasn't present there before, yet he behaved as if they had been there all along.

'Thanks for the help back there.' Inu took a moment. This had to be a dream, yet...he certainly wasn't complaining. 'If it wasn't for you clearing out that path for us, we probably wouldn't have gotten off that mountain at all.'

"Oh, uh, no problem, sir." the young child answered, standing to attention like a soldier, salute and everything. He was far from a Maximal in this developing vision, let alone anything that could've ever had the potential to supposedly clear out a path, yet such details were trivial and minute to him. This was getting good, and he wasn't about to risk spoiling it.

"Despite your size, I'd be more than willing to allow you into our, heh," Primal chuckled, looking at the variety of fauna around him that were his comrades. "Ranks. Besides," he continued, extending one large, darkly colored hand. "I've always been curious about humanity and their culture."

...

Normally he'd totally be against this.

"Ah, here are some nice ones."

Here he was, some kid, in a time where people didn't exist yet, riding upon a talking rhinoceros as if it were the most mundane, normal thing in the world!

"Tim, you mind getting a few samples of these also?"

And even more...he didn't have a single problem with it.

"Sure thing. Just a second.'' The boy addressed both his transportation and 'favorite', hopping down from the Maximal's back and to the fertile, grassy plain below, said plain coincidently teeming with flowering specimens of all kinds. Some of these he had never seen before in his life, let alone in the pages of any book he could potentially check out from the school's library. Thus, he wanted to get the best one. The most fascinating and intriguing, not to mention definitely alien specimen…"Aha!" he cried out, wasting no time in plucking the desired flora from its place and bringing it to the brown rhinoceros. "Here.'' He presented his 'present', a strange, budding thing with fanned-out petals of primary colors.

"Now THAT'S one I might have to keep for myself," Rhinox admitted, the human boy in turn put the flower in a glass compartment he (somehow) had on his person. Dream logic, but he wasn't willing to spoil this. "Truly though, Timothy, sometimes I feel like you, aside from Optimus, are the only ones that can understand and appreciate the majesty of this place."

It was then that the child swore his heart had stopped. True, it probably hadn't, as he certainly didn't feel like he was dying in his sleep, yet to hear those words from the disguised robot, his 'favorite'...well, he was quite ready to go and pick every single thing that was growing in this imaginary field, should the rhino wish it.

...

His two legs carried him forward, the grassy plain and clear, summer sky nothing short of a picturesque perfect day. The slim spotted big cat with vibrant, green eyes that ran beside him was far from allowing the blonde boy to catch up. Far from it.

"Awesome!"

Impossible as it was, Mathis was actually catching up with HIM.

"You're almost as fast as I am!"

"Wait, almost?!"

"Yeah, almost!" With that, Cheetor gave himself a little bit of a boost, propelling forward and leaving the blonde a short distance behind.

Oh, it was on now.

The boy wasn't even getting tired. His legs were burning, his entire body drunk on adrenaline and whatever other chemical that flowed through his body (he'd have to remember to copy the notes off of Tim for Science class again), but by God, he was in absolute nirvana.

"Whoa, you actually caught up?!" the younger Maximal exclaimed to the human child, more than a little surprised at this.

"Y-Yeah!" Mathis shouted back. "Yeah, guess I did!" who cared about being a Sabertooth Tiger or whatever other animal, he was killing it just being an ordinary, boring….well, kid!

...

"..."

"..."

"...ok, look kid, you gonna stare all day?"

The red-haired girl giggled at the grey rat's annoyance. Even if she was the current source of such, she found she didn't particularly mind it. "I guess I just never realized how…"

Rattrap quirked a brow, taking another bite of the rotted blue apple (another indication this was no more than a dream. Not the giant, talking rat, oh no). "How what? You said it now, you can't leave me hanging."

Her teal eyes shifted. "I don't think you'll like it."

"I reiterate my prior statement."

"Fine," she said. In truth, she was somewhat anxious about how he'd react, yet all the same, a part of her hoped it'd be something he'd react to. "I never realized how fuzzy you are."

Any contents that once rested inside his mouth were promptly spat out. "Wh-WHAT?!" he exclaimed, scarcely believing what he had just heard. "What'd ya just say?!"

"I said you were fuzzy!" she repeated, a part of her somewhat fearful she offended him, yet another just as excited. "Right now! Your fur's getting all ruffled up!"

"It-it is not!" it clearly was. Robotic at spark he might've been, his outer skin was still a slave to its species' "quirks".

"Yes it is!" she chortled, fear finally gone and replaced with total amusement.

"It is not, kid!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it ain't!"

The vocal back and forth continued on and on, his growing frustration and embarrassment seemingly only channeling more and more humor for the human child, she then actually having the gall to come over and stroke him. Actually stroke him, as if he were some pet she had owned! Even worse, as he came to see as she continued to do it over and over, her hand traveling through his grey fur, Rattrap didn't entirely seem to mind. Daresay, it actually felt kind of...nice.

"Still don't know which of yous is worse. You or Choppahface."

"...you're still fuzzy."

"...it's you."

...

Block.

Thrust.

Block.

Swing.

Block.

Upward swing.

How she had managed to conjure up this particular kata in such a small amount of time, mattered not to her.

"Come now!" all that mattered was whom she was doing it for. "You're surely more capable than that!" Twisting herself around, the Filipino girl lifted her wooden sword and brought it down on the winding blade of Cybertronian origin, the wood miraculously not splintering upon impact. The azure features of her idol transformed into something of a curt grin of amusement. "You really believe you have a chance against me?"

"M-Maybe?" she answered. How she was doing this, she didn't know, yet frankly, she didn't care. And now she just up and made herself look like an idiot in front of him. Great.

Their weapons continue to strike and hit against each other, Dinobot outranking her in strength and size, yet she found that her smaller frame led to her gaining some clear advantages. Ducking under his legs, she aimed to stab upwards, he, in turn, whirling around and leaping forward, away from her strike. She got up, ready to go at it again, yet on the transformed Maximal's azure features, she beheld something that, had she not been so determined to keep her composure in front of him, she could've died happy right then and there in her sleep.

A smile.

A smile that echoed nothing short of absolute pride. Pride for her, of her, of one that had called him her favorite.

"You're far from ready to be partaking in any battle." the transformed velociraptor told her. "Yet...I will say this: there is a degree of potential in you."

...

Despite the distance between each of them, some greater than others, the same consensus was shared among all of them that night. And for many more nights to come. If their fantasies could either become their reality or better yet, have the ones they fantasized of step into the one they were unfortunately stuck in, then their young barely lived lives would be nothing short of absolutely perfect.

Primal's best soldier.

Rhinox's number one assistant.

Cheetor's best friend.

Rattrap's favorite (though he'd never say it).

Dinobot's best student.

The ideal scenario, should it ever be granted to them.

Though even in their young minds, they all knew such things, and their idols were regulated to the television and their own minds. True, it far from curbed or starved the desire to wish and hope for it, yet ultimately, it would be for naught.

For now, they had to make do with what they had at their disposal, regulated and limited to the simple, partially fulfilling games that they played.

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 22 - The Echo

You stare at Elidibus, confused, yet intrigued as his query strikes a chord within you. “The Echo?” you parrot back at him, your rush to eat breakfast before your usual spar with Zenos forgotten. “I’m afraid I haven’t. What is it?”

Elidibus maintains his easy smile, ruby eyes twinkling with the unknown. “You’ve been thinking about what I had said last time, have you not? About your paranormal abilities?”

Furrowing your brow, you stare at him, concerned. “How do you know--”

“In Gyr Abania, you had given thought to what I had said, and actively tried to use your powers.” He cuts you off, gaze boring into you as your distress grows. “Until that point you had unknowingly triggered it, reaching deep within to call forth a power you didn’t even know lay inside you.” Releasing your arm, his hand falls limply at his side. “It is amazing you have remained out of his sight this long...though I suppose for how your abilities have manifested, it would be easy to keep a low profile…”

Your face breaks up, not understanding what he’s saying. You feel as if you should cry, but you do not know if it is from sadness or fear or anger. He keeps speaking in riddles as if he knows who you are, but won’t say a word about it. “What do you know about me?” You ask, practically begging with the desperation in your tone, reaching to clasp his hand between yours. “Do you know something about me? What is the Echo?”

Elidibus glances down at his hand clutched between your own, flexing his fingers slightly. A look of pity pulls at his features as his free hand comes up and rubs against the back of your own, his skin soft to the touch and smooth like porcelain. “I suppose there is no harm…” he trails off, eyes looking off to the side for a moment before they glide back to you. “Very well. You are free to do as you wish in the evenings, correct?” He asks, to which you nod in affirmation. “Excellent. Meet me out in the gardens this evening, after you’ve eaten your supper. Then, I will explain what I can.”

Giving you a final, reassuring pat on your hand, he pries his from your hold, crossing his arms behind his back. “If you worry about either Lord Varis or young Zenos, do not worry, I have way ways.” He finishes with a small smile. Nodding, he makes a little shooing motion. “Go on, I’m sure I’ve delayed you enough. Surely your breakfast is getting colder by the second and I know Lyngsath detests microwaves.”

Nodding, you purse your lips together turning around, heading straight for the kitchens. When you take a quick glance behind you, Elidibus is still there, eyebrow raised as you shake your mind free of thoughts and head straight for your destination.

When you greet Lyngsath it is absentmindedly, giving him a silent wave as he deposits your still warm breakfast on a plate before you. Thankfully Lyngsath is understanding and doesn’t take your sudden silence personally, merely setting a warming cup of tea with two cubes of sugar next to your breakfast and going on his way, leaving you to your thoughts.

Your mind was going malms a minute trying to think of what The Echo could possibly mean; and what it meant for you. Elidibus had always seemed strangely cryptic, but now more so with his recent actions as if he was using you to prove a theory of his. Would he shine light on why you felt a strange sense of ease, a weird sense of familiarity around him? Did he know you as a child?

Did he know what happened to Minfilia?

Your silence as you stewed in your thoughts of course did not go unnoticed by Zenos, though he refrained from commenting on the matter. You could tell he desperately wanted to ask, but for reasons unknown he kept to himself. You wonder what he must think of you, his bodyguard, once so confident and sure, now looking as if they might break from the strain of their job.

If only he had known you had never signed up for any of this.

Somedays you wanted to bawl and tell him everything, especially that night he had held you as you cried. You wanted to tell him how you were just a girl looking for answers on her missing friend, joining the police in hopes of climbing the ranks to find clues. And instead, you had gotten yourself involved with possibly one of the largest crime lords in history, with no way out to tell any kind of news station or authorities without putting everyone at risk.

To top it off, your only comfort was in the arms of the son of said crime lord, who you may or may not like more than you had originally planned.

“You’ve been quiet all morning,” Zenos begins, drawing your attention from the reflective ceiling above. He had been scribbling away at some documents or whatever for a while, and it looked like he had finally had enough of the quiet. However, his phrasing put the ball in your court, said as an observation and not an outright question.

“Yeah.” You respond, sparing him a glance. He hasn’t looked away from his desk yet, and you sigh, wondering what you should say. “Just...a lot on my mind.”

“It’s unlike you to not speak it.” He responds swiftly, his pen moving with ease across the paper. “I will not pester you, but I will also not allow you to drown in your grief.” He flips the paper over into his pile of finished documents, beginning to work on the next. “You always become this way around death. You have been blessed with an innate talent for combat, but lack the heart to truly revel in battle.”

Frowning, you glare at him from your space on the couch. “I enjoy fighting.”

“Enjoying the battle is the same as truly reveling in it.” Zenos responds, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. To him, perhaps it is, for you’ve already gathered that he experiences things so much differently than you. Tempering your anger, you take a calming breath and keep a cool head.

“What do you mean by reveling in the battle? Do I seem upset when we fight?” You ask, genuinely trying to figure out what on earth he could mean.

Zenos pauses his writing to gaze at you from beneath his lashes, almost stealing your breath away. “I must answer your question with another: What do you feel when we fight?”

He gives you a moment to think on it, to analyze your feelings about your previous duels. Most mornings you’re just focused on the warm up and the comfort of routine, even back when you hated him with every fiber of your being. Deep down you couldn’t deny you looked forward to your sparring each morning, having never found anyone near your level of skill. Whether it be grappling each other until someone was flat on their back or Zenos’ practice blade at your throat, you always found yourself having fun and enjoying the match.

“I feel...happy.” You admit, the words sounding strange but no less truthful. Really, there was no other word better to describe it. Looking at him he seems almost surprised by your response, but he quickly schools his face back to one of indifference.

“But you do not feel the rush of blood? The time between the seconds?” He questions, staring at you fiercely now. There is a passion in his eyes you have only seen a few times, capturing your attention entirely. “To revel in battle, Honey, is to give yourself over completely to your desire to fight. Even in our tamest of duels, I experience a bliss that I cannot attain anywhere else. Whether it is the feel of your fist connecting with my face, the sound of my own breath as I push my body to keep up with your own, there is no greater joy than giving myself to battle.”

“Well that doesn’t sound so bad--”

“I wasn’t done.” He cuts off, eyes pinning you in place. He gains a far away look, as if lost in a fantasy. “I confess, I often think about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of your rage; to experience firsthand the flame of your fury as your hands wrap themselves around my throat and snap my neck. To feel my blade slice through your flesh and bone, to know the grueling pain of your hand breaking my arm--”

He releases a shuddering sigh, one that almost bordered on lewd. “Oftentimes in the early days of when I had started as my father’s hitman, I would give myself impossible odds. I had entire swathes of gang members at my disposal, but nothing could stop me from entering hideouts with nothing but myself, and my sword.” He smiles as he loses himself in his memories, eyes twinkling. “I would return home covered in blood, always scaring the house staff, but happy. Each brush with death, each time I barely escaped with my life, I felt such bliss.” His smile falls. “And then one day, nothing. I felt nothing.”

While listening intently, your concern mounted with each word, but especially at how defeated he had sounded at the end.

“Perhaps I had desensitized myself to the thrill. It was not until I had met you that I had met that same feeling once more.” He gives you a surprisingly warm smile, a feeling of affection so strong that you could not mistake it for anything else.

"It is a wonder you're still alive given how you placed yourself in danger." you comment, unsure how to really respond. What did it say about him mentally that the only way he could feel was when his life was in jeopardy? That his father cared so little for him that it didn’t matter to him that his son returned home drenched in the blood of his kills?

"I am a warrior without equal," he responds, as if it was a force of habit. However, his eyes turn ravenous upon you, the flame of desire burning within them. "Or, so I had thought."

Feeling warm beneath his gaze, you decide the ceiling is suddenly interesting again. "Well, I'm glad that at least I can calm you down from doing anything stupid." You tease, trying to turn the conversation back toward lighter spirits.

"Would that I could say the same for you, my beast."

The severity of his tone is enough to catch your attention immediately, watching as he slowly stands from his desk. He slowly strolls around it, prowling toward you with measured steps as he doesn’t let you break eye contact for even a second.

As he nears your place on the couch, you move to sit up but he’s already keeping you in place with one hand as he braces himself to hover just above your prone form on the couch. One hand rests upon the back of it, while the other rests upon the arm where your head is. Like this, his hair slips from its resting place upon his shoulders, wisps of the golden strands tickling you even through your clothes. You're painfully aware of just how large he is, his broad shoulders leading toned biceps. A muscled back leading the way to shapely glutes.

Your legs part without you realizing it but there is no hint of smugness in his gaze, only a need to possess, to claim. "Zenos?" you murmur, tongue swiping across your lips in an unconscious show of nerves, eyes gazing up at the Garlean as he crowds even closer.

"Do not go and do something stupid." He hums, eyes searching yours as if daring you to speak against him. "Your behavior as of late has been concerning. You have become driven, but dangerously so." His beautiful eyes narrow on you scrutinously. "Are you planning something?"

Swallowing thickly, you once again find it hard to lie to him. You weren't a huge liar in the first place, but his constant honesty made you feel nothing but guilty for even the whitest of lies. "What would I even have to plan?" you whisper, taking your hands to reach for his wrists, gently rubbing along them.

"Ever since I had told you my father could be responsible, you have acted strangely." He comments, shifting his hands to where they now rest on either side of your head and his legs trap your own between his. "You cannot afford to do anything to him. Not from your position."

Something in the way he emphasizes you specifically hints that he knows something you do not, a feeling you're getting quite tired of. However, he's right; there's no way you can take down Varis solely from Zenos' side. His own father has seen fit to not keep him apprised of his own machinations as of late, leaving both of you in the dark. His campaign trail would be starting soon, and you couldn't afford to waste any time looking for scraps of info while he prepared to get into a position of power.

"Even now I can see the gears in your head turning." Zenos huffs, grabbing you by the chin and fixing your focus to him. "You are planning something. Something stupid."

Face crumpling with indignation, you huff back at him. "Planning is a bit too advanced for a savage isn't it?" you sneer, knowing he can feel your pulse pounding beneath his fingers.

"Your savagery doesnt make you stupid," he chuckles, rubbing his thumb along your chin. "But your inability to quash your feelings and think rationally does."

Offended, you shove his hand from your face. "Have you ever thought your inability to feel has alienated you?"

"It's cute, the way you try and strike back at me, my beast." He laughs, the hand you swatted away reaching down for your left thigh and hitching it on his hip. "I believe I've shown myself quite capable of having feelings. The only difference between us is I am in control of mine." He shifts his right arm to brace his weight upon his forearm instead of his hand, bringing him steadily closer. "I have no need of shame, or fear." The more he speaks the more you are enraptured by him, mesmerized by his voice even as he lays your heart bare before you.

"How do you see right through me?" you ask, breath ghosting across his lips as you hitch your other leg around his hip, pulling him to you.

Unable to resist temptation, he kisses you, lips hungry yet moving slowly across your own. Your legs tighten around his hips even as he pulls away."I see only what you allow me to." He grins, flipping his hair from his face. "You've convinced yourself for so long I am some unfeeling monster," he growls as his left hand begins to untuck your blouse from your pants, "buy I have always made my feelings clear. You have been ignorant to them."

"That's not true," you insist, despite arching your back to allow him to free the fabric from your backside as well.

"Oh? Then what would you call me saving your life in that dump the night we met? Did I not feel interested?" He questions, voice like a balm over your senses, pulling you deeper and deeper into his spell. "When I had learned of your first kill, did I not feel pride?" Your arms loop around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he leans closer, burrowing his nose against your neck and breathing you in. "Do I not feel something too strong for words when you are in my arms?"

His tongue licks a sensual stripe on your skin and you moan despite him barely touching you. "You...I want to hate you. So badly." You whimper as he roughly shoves your pants down a sudden burst of impatience.

"Don't." He responds, as if it is that simple. "Merely stay by my side, and belong to me." He demands, but it comes out as a whisper, a secret that only the two of you share. Trapped beneath him you are arrested by the earnest look in his eyes, a determination that mixes with traces of desperation as if he is convinced you will abandon him. "Promise me."

Reaching up to caress his face, your heart twinges in pain, finding it hard to deny him. “I promise.” You breathe, trapped in his eyes as he once again presses his lips to your own, the kiss passionate, but charged with so much feeling it is overwhelming in its intensity. It should frighten you how far you have fallen for this man, your heart already knowing the words your lips will not speak.

So you touch him instead, letting your hands rove across his body as clothes are shed and you’re pressed face first into the leather of the couch, your skin sticking to it uncomfortably, but not so much so that you would even think about pushing him off you as he fucks you into it. The door is locked but employees are still in the building, and even the possibility of someone getting close enough to the door to hear how you wail for your boss to fuck you harder does nothing to deter this need to show him you won’t be going anywhere.

At least, not while he’s watching.

The hour is late; all of the housekeepers and maids have gone home, tending to their own families while you creep out your room and try to sneak to the backdoor. Moonlight pours in from the windows by the grand staircase, the halls eerily quiet to the point it is slightly unnerving. Hazarding a cautious glance at the winding stairwell, all seems well, praying to whatever gods will listen that both Varis and his son are asleep.

Creeping through one last hallway, you flash your badge at the backdoor, allowing you to slip out into the backyard without the security alarm giving you away. The grass is lush even beneath your slippered feet, the winter chill biting into your skin, making you huddle further into your puffy coat. Glancing over the garden, all that remains are a few choice evergreens, but the majority of plants lie dormant, waiting to bloom in the Spring. Given that the majority of plants are currently without leaves, you find that you cannot spot Elidibus immediately.

The garden is still well lit, but you find you cannot find the Emissary anywhere. Biting down on your lip, you trudge further into the garden, the sprawling grounds somehow seeming larger in the cover of night. You are drawn to the fountain in the middle, eyes gazing at the turbulent waters, losing yourself in the memory of Zenos’ arms bringing you close and pulling you from its murky waters.

“Deep in thought?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Elidibus’ voice, losing your footing as you slip on the smooth stone that makes up the fountain, bracing yourself for a chilly bath that does not come. Unclenching your eyes, you find ruby ones staring back, realizing Elidbus’ arm is looped behind your back as he saved you the trouble of having to explain why you had hypothermia in the morning.

“Well, I suppose that answers my question. I thought you would have sensed my presence.” He hums, setting you to stand up straight, his touch gentle and sure. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with him, at least physically, and the fact that it feels familiar somehow unsettles you. Visibly so.

“Careful, Honey. Eorzeans have a saying that if you make a face, it’ll get stuck that way.” He laughs to himself, ruby eyes twinkling with mirth. Staring at him, he is still dressed in one of his trademark, white suits, as if it is not nearly midnight. He looks as clean and coiffed as he does any other time, making you feel a little ridiculous for being out in the cold in your puff coat and pajamas.

“What do you mean...sense your presence? Don’t you mean ‘heard you coming?’” You frown, brushing yourself off, trying to fix your hair so you don’t feel nearly as crazy in comparison.

His eyebrows raise up into his hairline, before his lips twitch as if to grin. “Perceptive.” He finally does smile, except it feels so familiar and warm and...as if he admires you. “I’m glad to see that has not changed about you.”

Frustrated, you shove past him and march toward a nearby bench, deciding to sit down. “You keep saying that-- that you know me or something. But I’ve never met you until you came here.” Staring him down, you put on your bravest face, trying your best to be mad at him. “I want answers. Why did you call me here?”

Shrugging, Elidibus turns to face you, grin leaving his face. “Very well. I will answer you to the best of my abilities.” He begins, sliding his hands in his pockets, looking relaxed and at ease. “The Echo. I asked what you knew of it, correct?”

You nod, and he continues. “Judging by your silence, you were unable to find anything out about it, which is good. In truth, it is a wonder you have lived this long without finding trouble…” he murmurs, seeming to think on something for a moment before returning his focus to you. “But I digress. Let me present you with another question then; do you believe in magic?”

Pursing your lips, you think about your experiences as a child. Like any country, Hingashi had its share of magicians, from cheap parlor tricks to professionals who had their own shows. You knew it wasn’t really magic, that something within you said you would know magic if you really saw it.

Having your answer, you shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt ‘magic’ isn’t real magic.”

Chuckling, Elidibus nears you, pulling his hands from his pockets. “An interesting answer...which will make explaining this tale, much easier.”

Waving his fingers, you watch as motes of light shine from his very hands, small and glowing like fireflies in the dark. They swirl into a galaxy, a beautiful, blue-green star appearing at the center of it all. “In a time before time, did mortals live for an age. Society was nothing the way it was now. Technology had reached a point of advancement unheard of on this star. The very sky was littered with creatures of all shapes and sizes. But most importantly...the people had the power to create.”

The lights change into spiring towers, much like the skyscrapers of Kugane, but the architecture was unlike anything you had ever seen. Robed figures walked their streets, clutching crystal-like shards to their chests, conversing, living.

“The Ancients, they were called, such terribly magnificent beings they would seem to the mortals of this age. Able to create concepts on a whim, breathe life into creatures and inventions unheard of. This was not an ability given to a select few you see, but a gift bestowed upon all in that world. Surely such power would cause strife would it not?” He pauses for a moment, his voice sounding strangely fond. “No, it was not so. The Ancients took their power to create and used it to further their society. All were equal in this world, even those on the Convocation.”

“The Convocation?” You ask, watching the lights change to match his story.

“The Convocation was a group of fourteen people, chosen to head academia for the entire star.” Elidibus explains, his voice taking on a note of sadness. A group of fourteen figures in robes stand in a circle, all of their robes black save for one in the purest white. The city shimmers brightly behind them, creating a dazzling image. “The best and brightest minds the star had to offer, gathered together to push the star into a new age.” The lights change, the hues of blues and greens changing to oranges and reds. “The best and brightest, gathered together to save the star from certain doom.”

You watch mystified at the panic; the ash and fire as the Convocation scrambles about, their faces looking lost and full of despair. “The laws of life itself were being unwritten, the Convocation at a loss of what to do. It was then that the idea of summoning a god to save them from their peril had been given, but only at the cost of civilian lives.” Elidibus’ voice is hardly above a whisper, his eyes seeming almost as transfixed on his story as you are.

“Yet there were those who stood against such an idea, calling the others cowards for placing themselves above their friends, their colleagues. Were they not all created equal? For what reason were those on the Convocation exempt from sacrifice? Could no one else ascend to their seat?” The robed figures visibly split apart, the divide in how to proceed clear. “It was with this contention that the Convocation had split in two, each summoning their own god. One, from the lifeforce of civilians, the other, with the lives of those who abhorred the very idea.”

Figures of light twinkle into existence, one tinged with a deep, dark purple, the other shining a striking white light. “The gods had warred and fought, both doing their best to fulfill the outcry of their people. But it would be the ones who sacrificed themselves who would win in the end. To save the star, the god had severed the star into bits, saving it the only way they knew how.” The blue-green planet returns, visibly fracturing, breaking to glistening shards of dust adrift in a sea of stars. “It is for this reason that most mortals do not live for more than a century, that the art of magic is lost to time…” The image vanishes, your eyes snapping up to Elidibus’. “Or so, the legends say.”

Confused, but intrigued, you hang on his every word. “What does that story have to do with the Echo?”

“The Echo is what remains of the Convocation.” He answers, coming to take a seat next to you. “Legend says that over history, that across the many shards, the spirits of the Convocation persist. They manifest in different ways...Othardian legends such as Azim and Nhaama were rumored to have the Echo, for they were of the sun and moon, gaining spectacular powers based on the respective time of day.” Shrugging, he brushes a stray hair from his face. “Or perhaps you have heard of Krile Baldesion, a scholar a few centuries ago said to have the power of clairvoyance.”

Giving you a small smile, one you could almost call boyish, he gives you with a knowing look. “Or even someone named Honey, gifted with supernatural combat skills and strength.”

Standing to your feet, you stare down at him wide eyed, shock dancing through your veins. “A-Are you saying,”

“I’m not saying anything, Honey.” He murmurs, voice carrying to you on the night wind. He stands with you, taking a solitary step toward you that has you taking one back. “It is merely a legend after all; whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

The wind blows but you do not feel its icy sting, too focused on trying to make sense of what the Emissary has told you. He wouldn’t make you come out here just to mess with you, he doesn’t seem the type, but it makes no sense. Those images; he had created those, he had used magic. The Echo, did he really think you had it? What did it mean for you?

Wanting to scream, you opt instead to let tears silently roll down your cheeks, as you feel that once again, you are way in over your head. Something bad is going on, something bad, and you landed yourself right in the middle of it. “Why did you tell me all this?”

Elidibus stands there in silence, his eyes giving off that strange glow that you know isn’t a result from the lamps that keep the grounds lit even at night. He regards you with a sudden seriousness you had never felt from him before, gaze unflinching as his lips part for his next words: “I believe even you can feel a certain...attraction between the two of us Honey.” He crosses his hands behind his back, eyes taking on a darker note. “Not in the way you feel for Zenos, oh no, but a magnetism that despite us never having met each other, it is as if we have known each other our whole lives.” Tilting his head back, his gaze could only be described as intrigued. “Perhaps, we knew each other in a past life.”

The lights on the grounds flicker, wind howling loud in your ear, the breeze numbing your legs and killing any feeling in your face. As the lights get darker, the wind louder, you finally bring your arms up to block the abrupt gales, the last thing you see being ruby eyes in the dark before the lights go out entirely. The wind stops as fast as it came, rays of light shining through your arms as you finally lower them to find yourself alone.

Looking around, Elidibus really is gone, leaving you with more questions than answers. Frustrated and sleepy, you stumble your way back into the estate, unaware of ice blue eyes watching you from on high.

“We’re here, ma’am.”

Looking up from your phone, you lock the screen as Yuyusho pulls into the driveway of the Garlond estate. Much like home, the flowers and shrubs all lie dormant, biding their time until Spring. You’re not surprised to find that Cid is not outside waiting for you, dressed in some khaki shorts and a tacky, tropical shirt. Stepping from the car, you bid Yuyusho your goodbyes and a promise to be ready for him to pick you up in no more than two bells.

The door opens as soon as you press down upon the lever, making you silently pray that Cid doesn’t carelessly leave his doors unlocked as you step inside. Toeing your shoes off, you switch to your designated slippers, trying to not let your eyes dwell too long on a familiar large pair that sits in the cubby that has begun to collect dust. Taking a deep breath, you place your shoes in the cubby alongside them, making sure the door locks behind you and heading deeper into the house.

With as big as his house is, there’s no telling where Cid could be within it. As many times as you had been over here, you actually hadn’t had the chance to explore the sprawling grounds, usually chatting with Cid for a while in the kitchen before Estinien would surface from his hermit cave and fetch you to go train. “Cid?” you call, knowing that if he was on the other side of the estate there was no way he was hearing you. “Cid?” you call again, ambling down a random hall, hoping that you might just happen across him.

The house is quiet much like Varis’, except it doesn’t have the white noise of maids and such shuffling about, ensuring not a speck of dust lands upon his prized possessions. As you make your way deeper into the house, the rooms become less for leisure and more for business, beginning to house robots and magitek instead of plush lounge chairs and expensive cigars. One door catches your attention, clearly shut, but it doesn’t stop you from seeing if it will open.

With a simple touch of the button on the wall, the door slides open, cool air brushing over your face as the sounds of beeps and whirrs assault your ears. Before you stands a large piece of magitek of some sort, covered in a glossy, black paint, standing taller than it is wide. It looks as if it made more for battle than for peace, seeming out of place amongst the other things you’ve seen Cid create. Surely enough, it does belong to him, for the Ironworks logo is emblazoned on the side, though instead of neatly printed, it looks as if it was messily spray painted on.

“I see you’ve found Maggie.”

Spinning around, Cid stands behind you, leaning one broad shoulder on the doorframe as he gazes at the tall robot before you. “A real joy that one. Bet you wonder what I’m doing with an old war machine, huh?” He asks, pushing himself off the frame and stepping into the room, allowing the door to shut behind him. Dressed in some comfortable cotton pants and a matching t-shirt, you realize that this is the most casually dressed you have seen him. His usually brushed hair is now unkempt, his keen eyes watered down by obvious fatigue.

“She was my first piece of rebellion, that one. Wanted to prove to my father that there was more than just conquering and war and the glory of Garlemald.” He sighs, stepping past you, his eyes having never left the polished metal. “She’s made for battle. Made to withstand firing enough ammunition to bring multiple platoons to their knees.” He gently runs a hand along its leg, staring intently at the logo embellished on the side. “I had made her better, instead turning her from a war machine, into one capable of rescue.”

Pointing toward its center, you follow his line of sight to where a metal claw protrudes from the front. “With the amount of power she had, it was easy work to make her capable of moving entire tonnes of rubble to free trapped civilians. I was only twelve at the time.” Arm falling to hang limply at his side, he stares up at his trophy, a mix of bitterness and grief in his eyes. “My father hated it. Told me it would never find favor with the emperor.”

Frowning, you stand there unsure what to say, or how to comfort him. “I’m sorry.” An apology is all you can offer, wringing your hands together as he finally turns to face you.

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes. “Come. Let’s go get us some wine to drink, hm?”

Deciding it best not to argue, you follow him out the room, silent the entire way as he makes his way to a sitting room furnished with two chairs and a fireplace he lights with nothing but a spoken command. Immediately, the room is further warmed by its crackling fire, but Cid goes the extra mile to offer you a downy blanket to help fight off the chill as the entire back wall is made of glass allowing you to see the rest of the grounds.

“I was surprised to hear you had wanted to visit.” Cid begins, grabbing two glasses from the counter and reaching for a bottle of wine. “Or rather, that you specifically had requested to visit. I had expected Varis to do something as underhanded to send you over to try and squeeze some info out of me when I am at my lowest.”

Heaving out a dry laugh, you graciously accept the glass of wine offered to you, burrowing further into cushy chair as you stare blankly into the fire. “I wouldn’t put it past him either, if it’s any consolation.” You joke, watching as he comes to take a seat in his own seat. Taking a sip of the wine, you let the flavors wash over your tongue, doing your best to seem sophisticated, but sure enough it tastes like...wine.

“In that case, I must ask, what is the reason for your visit, Honey?” He asks, taking a quick glance at your neck. “I see you are missing a certain piece of jewelry. Wearing something a bit less...conspicuous, perhaps?”

Shaking your head, you giggle, unable to mope for too long around him. “No, and if anything that really lets you know I came for myself and no one but myself. He is too busy on his campaign trail to pay me any mind.” You take a long sip, hoping it makes what you’re about to say a little bit easier. “I can’t lie that I did come over with ulterior motives but...really I also just wanted to ask how you were holding up.”

You don’t break eye contact with him, knowing the pain of loss in his eyes is reflected just as strongly in your own. Cid is the first to cave, a hand roughly dabbing away a tear that had managed to escape as he takes a long chug of his wine. “I would’ve gotten something stronger if I had known you were going to ask that.”

Genuinely worried, you watch as he finishes the rest of his glass in one go. “Cid? Are you...have you been drinking?”

Giving you a haggard glance, he has the sense to at least look guilty and ashamed before standing to his feet to lumber over to the counter, tilting the bottle lazily to allow more wine to pour forth. He nearly drains the bottle to where his glass is completely full, taking a sip to ensure none will spill over the edge as he makes his way back to his seat. Gingerly sitting, he keeps his glass upraised as he allows the chair to catch his weight, sighing deeply as he does so.

He takes another long swig, nearly draining a third of the glass before finally setting the glass on the small coffee table between you. “Maybe I should have grabbed a cigar…”

“Cid.”

He still looks ashamed, but you only display your concern, unable to judge him given how poorly you’ve been coping. “I’m...I’m hurting too.” Your voice cracks as you say it, vision warbling as tears catch on your eyelashes. Your face scrunches tight as you sniffle, a sob breaking free from your chest. “I miss him too.”

It hasn’t been long, barely even a month, and yet the pain has shown no signs of ebbing. The loss of Estinien still feels as fresh as it had when you both saw him be killed before your very eyes, your hearts struggling to accept that he really is gone.

Cid begins to tear up as well, spiraling into a sob much faster than you, hand coming up to cover his eyes as he sinks into the chair and lets it all go. The two of you cry and cry, able to share your pain with the only other person who could. With no next of kin, no friends, no coworkers, the only ones who would remember him were the two who at least ensured he didn’t die alone.

Quiet sweeps over the house as you dry your eyes, dabbing at them with your sleeve. You feel better, if only a little bit, unable to sob so openly at home without feeling like Zenos would break down your door and demand to know what's wrong. Cid dries his own eyes with a handkerchief, his breaths shaky and rough. “Gods...I think you needed that as badly as I did, huh?”

Nodding, you find while you can’t give voice to your feelings, you agree all the same.

“Thank you for that, Honey.” Cid reaches for his glass again, but decides against it, settling to thread his fingers together and get comfortable. “I loved him, you know. Like a little brother.” He mumbles, losing himself in the dancing flames. “I knew he could be more than just a thug. He had the skills to be more. And he was.” Shaking his head, he finally drags his gaze to you. “He loved you too.”

It stings just as much to hear it from Cid as it did from Estinien’s lips. “I know.” You whisper under your breath, unable to look at him, the two of you knowing just who you had chosen instead. “It’s why I want to avenge him. I...he didn’t deserve to die.”

Cid shrugs defeatedly, reaching for his glass absentmindedly and taking a small sip. “He was my bodyguard. I willingly put him in the position to put my life above his own. Was part of the job description.” He huffs out a weary laugh. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

Shaking your head, you nearly crush your glass in your hand. “No. It wasn’t you.” Lips pursed together, you debate on whether or not you should say anything. You weren’t going to get anywhere by hesitating, and hesitating is exactly what got Estinien killed in the first place. “It was...it was Varis.”

Cid’s expression turns to be deathly serious. “Honey. That’s a severe accusation.”

“Do I sound like I’m not being serious?” You snap back, placing your wine glass down. “Varis was responsible, I know he was. Who else could it be? What other enemies do you have that would be so vile as to try and have you killed?”

Cid remains quiet, as if he wants to say something but is holding himself back. “Still,”

“Like that stuff they shot me with. I was still conscious. I could still feel the cold floor, could still hear, could still see. I just couldn’t fucking move--” your mind threatens to take you back into that moment: the regret, the pain, the trauma, but you press it down, “--I couldn’t move. It felt like my very being was being restrained.”

Cid only shakes his head, groaning as he begins to slouch. “I had hoped it would never come to this…” he mumbles, staring into nothing. “That wasn’t a tranquilizer they shot you or Estinien with.” He regards you wearily, blue eyes tired and not just from lack of sleep. “It was a destabilizer.”

“Destabilizer?”

“Does exactly what it says on the tin.” Resting his head on the back of the chair, he stares blankly at the ceiling. “The point of it is to render you helpless by causing your aether, essentially your life force to become unstable; it specifically targets you at level far past molecular. It targets your very existence and Varis is a fool and a coward for using it on you just to ensure his cronies didn’t kill you off before you could kill them.”

“Wait,” you sit up fully, truly grasping what he’s saying. “You knew it was Varis who had done this?”

“Who else could it be?” he slaps his hand over his face, dragging it down roughly over his beard. “And not for the reasons you think mind you. You see Varis and I have a long history, Honey. We are connected through my father.”

If there was ever a time to back out, it would be now.

Cid continues, ignorant to your inner turmoil. “Remember how I told you my father did research for the Empire? Well, it was a half truth.” You watch as he sits up straight again and reaches for his glass, clearly needing more liquor to get through this. “For a time, he did work for the crown directly. Until Garlemald finally threw in the towel that its days of colonizing and glory had long passed, and to take on a more...approachable image. This meant that my father’s more interesting projects could not be allowed to continue.”

“He was formally let go by the Emperor, but still had one of the best gold stars on his resume that you could get as a pureblooded Garlean. He found fault in the then Emissary’s decision, and continued to do his research in private.” It’s a wonder Cid hasn’t started to slow down at all given how much wine he’s downed, already you’re starting to feel the warm buzz of it beneath your skin. “It was when Varis had gotten into his late teens he had heard of my father’s studies, and used the crown’s money to secretly fund my father’s research. As you know I had already rebelled against my father’s ideologies, beginning to forge my own path. Had I taken but a moment to try and talk some sense into my father…”

Standing to your feet, you cross over to Cid, placing a comforting hand on his own. The look he gives you is appreciative, flipping his hand over to clutch yours in his own. “You don’t have to talk about such painful memories.” You tell him, unable to deal with the regret in his voice. He had made it seem like he had made peace with his father’s death, but in truth, it seemed like it tore him apart like nothing else.

“While I appreciate your concern, I don’t mind talking about it.” He urges, giving your hand a firm squeeze. “It’s therapeutic to tell someone else; for so long I had no one else to tell. Save Estinien.” He gives you a reassuring smile, coaxing you to return to your chair. “He’d want me to keep going.”

Nodding, you return to your seat, but not before grabbing the blanket he had offered you earlier, getting snuggled up. Cid takes a deep breath, preparing himself to continue. “Varis and my father had entered a parasitic, yet mutual business relationship. Varis would show up with a check, and my father would show his latest findings.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I must ask…” Taking a deep breath of your own, you let the question fly past your lips. “...how do you know about aether?”

Frowning, Cid looks plagued by too many sins for one to bear. “Aether is what my father researched. It is what he provided to Varis.” Groaning he leans forward, cradling his face in both hands. “My hands are as dirty as Varis’, Honey. Not from supporting the acts themselves, but for my own cowardice.” He sounds on the verge of tears, shoulders shaking as he tries to hold himself back.

“My father...he had found in his research that a certain demographic of people were immune to his studies on aether. The test subjects he had subjected to his experiments, they had all rejected anything involving aether. It would imbalance their very makeup, most times killing them.” Bitterly laughing, he runs a hand through his hair. “They were just a few gang members, right? Misfits and rejects. Unwanted children. Who would miss them?”

“But it was this way he had stumbled across the Echo.”

On the edge of your seat, you hang on his every word. “The Echo?”

“A myth made reality.” Cid explains, as if it’s nothing. “There are strange forces at work in this world, Honey. Forces that give people extraordinary, dare I say, supernatural abilities. I am a man of science, as was my father, but there was no refuting the hard evidence that a select few were birthed with something special about them.”

“It is merely a legend after all; whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

“There are people with...the Echo?” You urge Cid, desperate for him to keep going.

“There are. Well. If there are any left.”

That statement alone chills your blood to the bone.

“What...what do you,”

Cid pins you in place with a grave stare. “What I am about to tell you...promise me you will never tell another soul. Promise me, Honey.”

Nodding, you feel the weight of your own promises pile high. “Not a word.”

Satisfied, Cid clasps his hands in front of him, resting his elbows upon his thighs. He hasn’t looked away, hardly even blinked. “I’m not ignorant to Varis’ more underhanded dealings. I am sure of the things he has you do.” He pauses, having to breathe a calming breath before continuing. “Those who have the Echo are said to be descendants of some of the very first beings from a time before time. A world so far away and long ago that is beyond our comprehension. Mere shells of their former selves according to the stories, but no less amazing and awe inspiring to the average man.”

“And it is for this reason Varis had hunted them down and experimented on them.”

Your hands slowly reach up to cover your mouth as it hangs agape, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you realize Cid is completely serious.

“I am not a good...I’m not a good man, Honey. Would that I even had an iota of your courage...the people I could have saved…” Cid does cry then, too overwhelmed by his own shame. “I was still mostly a child when I had left home, crossing over to Kugane when I was only nineteen. I had sworn off all that my father had done, not just because I despised his methods, but because I was afraid.”

Tears stream down his face in a river, catching in his beard. “When I had finally resolved to try and bring to light the atrocities my father had committed, Varis had already risen to great power with his own business...and my father…” He chokes out a sob, “--he had been killed. Murdered in cold blood by one of his own experiments, and when I had returned home to Garlemald to give him a proper burial, I thought to make things right by at least turning Varis in. But I was too late. All of his research, his labs, everything, had been reduced to ash.”

"I had nothing, nothing to prove my father or Varis' crimes. It’s haunted me for years, and will continue to do so to think of all the innocents I let disappear due to my own cowardice…" He buries his head in hands, running his hands through his hair like a madman. "I fear I am beyond saving."

Staring into the fire, the sound of screams fill your ears. "You said...Varis has been abducting people...for years?"

"Yes." Cid’s voice sounds further away. "Anyone suspected of having the Echo, stolen from their beds under the cover of night…"

"You must hide."

Minfilia's panicked voice wakes you from your sleep, her arms wrapping around you urgently as she pulls you from the bed. But a child of eleven years you have grown too big to carry, but she does as best as she is able. "Minfilia?"

Your head is pounding, the memory fading in and out of your mind.

"I can't explain, my dear." Tears stream down her youthful face, Minfilia, who has always looked so mature to your childish view but is still a child herself. "But I need you to hide. Hide and don't make a sound. Not one peep, do you understand?"

"But why, "

"Promise me!" She shrieks before quieting her voice, quickly urging you into the bathroom. Grunting she grabs the small vanity and pulls, revealing a small crawl space within the wall. "Get in."

Darkness seems to close in around you, your breath caught in your throat.

There's a chorus of male laughter, the sound of several feet shuffling into the apartment. "We heard you had a gifted kid here...figured we'd take em off your hands."

"You're looking for me?" Minfilia asks immediately, her own footfalls soft and delicate compared to what must be huge men.

"You're a bit old to be a kid, huh?" The masculine voice asks, seeming to pause. "You ain't hiding anything from us, are you girly?"

"Search the apartment you'll find I'm alone," Minfilia takes a deep breath, "I had no way of knowing you were coming."

Your head won’t stop pounding and your lungs are struggling to breathe.

"Looks like your apartment is clean, but unfortunately for you...I can't go back empty handed."

"W-Wait,"

You hear a struggle, your tears starting anew as you press yourself against the vanity.

"Let go of me!"

"Let’s go boys. Maybe the boss will be happy to have some fresh meat to test on."

With small, grubby hands you do your best to push against the small vanity, weeping silently as you continue to hear Minfilia’s struggle. She’s crying, you can hear her, you have to help--

“Honey!”

Cid has you by the shoulders, grasping you fiercely, looking nearly distraught. As he realizes he’s pulled you back to the world of the living, he hardly even relaxes. “Honey. By the Twelve, are you alright?”

Reaching up, you feel dried tears on your cheeks, the skin sticky and taut. Hands shaking, you try to let the memory continue to play, but it won’t. Trembling, as soon as you try to force it past your hands trying to free yourself from your hiding place, your head throbs, causing you too much pain to continue further. Your lungs seize up, forcing you to stop trying.

“Honey, please, tell me what’s wrong.” Cid begs, shaking you desperately.

Deciding to stop causing yourself pain, wipe away fresh tears, shoving Cid’s arms off you. He looks noticeably hurt by the gesture, clenching his jaw as he stands straight. Your lungs struggle to breathe correctly as you try to calm yourself down, running a hand through your hair as more pieces fall into place.

The Echo was real.

Minfilia..she was protecting you.

The men who had searched your apartment...she had sacrificed herself to keep you safe.

Varis had to have kidnapped her. Which means...which means…

Standing to your feet, you bring Cid into a bone crushing hug, burrowing your face into his shoulder. He stands stock still for a moment, until his arms slowly wrap around your back and he returns your hug in full force.

“Cid...thank you.”

He knows not what you thank him for, but continues to accept the hug, the two of you needing the comfort more than words can explain. You urge him to do what you cannot: to get help. He might be unable to expose Varis’ crimes, but he could at least talk to a professional about working through his grief over Estinien.

Yuyusho awaits you outside, not at all bothered by you staying thirty minutes more than originally planned. Flashing him a thankful smile, you step into the car and allow him to drive you back home.

Home, where you begin to make a plan about how you were going to expose Varis for the horrors he’s committed.

Locking yourself in your room you immediately sit at your desk, yanking open the top drawer. Lifting the false bottom you find a small SD card, the same card Zenos had nearly crushed with his foot after he destroyed your original phone. Twirling it in your hands, you pull out a burner phone you had managed to swipe from an unsuspecting lackey, popping the card inside. The phone chirps as you turn it on, flipping through the apps until you pull up one of the many pictures on the device.

If you had to guess you must be maybe five or six years old in the picture, Minfilia’s petite frame still supporting you easily. Your face is covered in what must’ve been finger paint, the biggest grin on your face as you reach your grimy hands out toward the camera. Minfilia is all smiles as well, eyes crinkled with joy on her youthful face. She looks as if she maybe in her late teens, every bit a child as you were at the time.

A child who was taken away, never to be heard from again.

Looking back on your memories as a child through the eyes of an adult, you had always found it strange that such a teenage girl was tasked with the care of a child. Your memory is too damaged to recall Minfilia mentioning her parents, if she had them at all. Your own heritage was a mystery, Minfilia being the only thing you knew of having any sort of guardian, and even if she was far too young to take care of you herself, she was the closest thing you had to a mother.

Vision blurring as you start to cry, you continue to flip through the pictures, remembering a time that feels so far away. Those tendrils of warmth you had felt as a child being in her care, remembering her kindness and guidance as she raised you to the best of her ability. During your early teens you had resented her for a while, hating her for forcing you into a life of being a foster child, bouncing from home to home just so some couple could collect their check from the government. It wasn’t until you were nearly out of high school did you vow to find the reason for her disappearance, immediately signing up to join the police force.

You sailed through your training at the top of your class, surpassing men and women alike, your combat skills making you a force to be reckoned with. With the knowledge you have now, you realize it is only due to the Echo that you climbed as quickly as you did. With supernatural reflexes, no one stood a chance.

Resentment tried once more to find its way into your heart, thinking back on Elidibus’ words that in the past those blessed with the Echo had far more extraordinary powers, making you wonder why you were saddled with something so lame in comparison. It was only thanks to the more covert nature of your talents that you had been able to fly under the radar for as long as you had, at the cost of Minfilia’s life.

The next few days are spent pouring over every database you know you can find, unable to ask Zenos for help in trying to solve this mystery. If anyone knew where old records and things were kept, it would be him, but you couldn’t afford to tip him off to the fact you were a cop.

Or worse, the Echo.

What would he think, knowing the only reason you curb stomped him in a fight was due to some quirky ability? Zenos didn’t seem the type to believe in such tales, and would probably laugh about it to his father, who would then drag you to the closest testing facility where you’d never see the light of day again.

Groaning, you slam your laptop shut, throwing yourself onto your bed face first as you scream into a pillow. You were running yourself raw, hardly getting any sleep, often searching databases and old news sites until the sun came up. No matter what you tried, all you hit were dead ends. Varis had already committed enough crimes for several lifetimes, and he obviously wouldn’t suffer for any of them to come to light, especially as he starts his campaign trail.

Flipping over, you stare at the painting brushed onto the canopy of your bed, dragging your hand down your face. Loathe as you were to say it, you had no other choice.

You had succeeded in part of your mission. It was time for a change of paths.

Every foot step seemed final as you strode down the hall, head held high, not out of confidence, but knowing that if you allowed even a moment of hesitation to slip through the cracks in your armor, you would back down and you could not afford that.

Too many people were counting on you.

Those who have been lost. Those who can be yet saved.

Cid’s sins would become your own.

Estinien’s gift of life would drive you forward.

And maybe, just maybe, you could free Zenos from his father’s clutches and live a life of normalcy.

Funnily enough, the thought seems to be the most unrealistic, but it doesn’t stop you as you lightly knock upon the grand, mahogany door, waiting for an answer.

“Enter.”

Pushing down on the handle, Varis sits at his desk, papers neatly strewn across its surface. Dressed in a sleek turtleneck with reading glasses resting upon his nose, he looks surprisingly studious. Arching a strong brow, he regards you neutrally. “An unexpected visit. What do you want?”

Taking a deep breath, you relax your stance and lower your gaze. Erecting a balance of firm, yet demure, you gaze at your boss from beneath your lashes.

“I want to become your bodyguard.”

[thetwoplayergays]

During quarantine, my dad and I have been taking long drives and visiting some of the nearby forest-y places, how do the RFA and MC spend their time together?

Speaking of, I hope everyone out there is having a safe quarantine, including you anon (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥ I hope this satisfies what you had in mind! I had to write it twice cause I deleted the first draft...

RFA during quarantine

Yoosung 

His first instinct when he thinks about being stuck inside for the next few months isn’t how he’ll be spending it with you...

No, instead his first instinct is to turn on the computer

LOLOL ALL DAY EVERY DAY BABYYYY

Of course, with the increase in players and traffic to the site, the game appeared to be getting a lot more maintanance than it usually would, which annoyed the blonde boy.

“I’m meant to be doing a raid today MC! What am I doing to do now....”

“...Well for one you could do something with me?”

“Oh yeah!”

After finally tearing him away from his computer, the two of you decide to be productive during this time and learn a couple new skills!

First week: Cooking.

Of course, it would be easier to learn about such a thing if the supplies in the shops weren’t extremely limited, causing you both to have to make up substitutes as you went along.

You almost burnt the kitchen down twice in one week

You gave up with cooking after that

It wasn’t entirely a bad thing, you even got Yoosung to invest some of his time into your favourite games, which to your pleasant surprise he seemed to genuingly enjoy!

A few weeks in, he found an old guitar from high school in storage.

Worst. Discovery. Ever.

“Yoosung no...”

“YOOSUNG YES”

The next few days were filled with the sound of out-of-tune plucked strings overlapping the various youtube videos Yoosung was ‘learning’ from.

“Hey MC, I think I can finally play Hey There Delilah!”

“That’s wonderful honey...”

Zen

This man was SO EXCITED to spend lockdown with you and immediately started to plan all the wonderful things you two were going to do together.

The beast certainly had a few ideas as well

It was domestic bliss for you two

You couldn’t get your hands off of eachother for even a minute

You did everything together - eating, sleeping, showering etc.

The RFA commented on how suffocating it was, but neither of you seemed to mind.

It only solidified the knowledge that you two were destined to spend the rest of your life together.

A few times, Zen had caught himself almost calling you his wife, causing him to immediately hide his face away from you in fear of you commenting on his sudden blush.

There was a downside however. 

Zen’s routine was in shambles

Products were sold out left right and centre, food shopping was even worse, it was driving him crazy.

You found yourself having to remind him that a break in his rountine wasn’t going to be the end of the world and that you loved him regardless, even if he got a pimple or two.

Don’t even go there MC

You found yourselves cooking together more often too, showing Zen how to prepare more meals that were normally out of his diet range.

Of course, it wasn’t like he could resist your cooking anyway.

Whenever you two got a little too stir crazy, he would take you on motorbike rides through the city, more often than not resulting in you two at the top of a mountain stargazing.

It turned into a weekly tradition, one which you both promised to keep up even after quarantine.

Jaehee

You would think that the lockdown would give Jaehee the break she so desperately needed, right?

You would be wrong.

With the cafe closed, this girl threw herself into her work just for something to do

Much to your dismay.

It took a lot of persuading for her to get up from the computer and spend time with you during the initial first few weeks, but it was definitely worth it.

This girl was also extremely prepared to the lockdown before it was even announced.

Sanitiser? Got it, she had spare incase the cafe ran out

Masks? No problem. She had many still in storage from the days she would force herself into work even whilst sick

Again, much to your dismay

You suggested that instead of doing mindless work on her computer that she could help you with a different project you had in mind.

“A project? Whatever could we do in a time like this?”

Redesigning the cafe!

It was something the two of you had talked about many times before quarantine, but had never gotten round to going through with it.

You both took it upon yourself to fill your day with physical and mental labour, pushing around furniture, painting the walls, coming up with new bakes and sales to draw the customers in etc.

It was hard, but it was so worth it.

During the evenings, you two would bundle up together on your sofa and pick a set of movies to watch before bed.

One of you always fell asleep before the end- not that either of you would mind.

Jumin

Out of all of the RFA, he was definitely the closest to breaking the social distancing rule

The idea of not seeing you- touching you- for an unknown amount of time was driving him crazy.

Mr We-shouldn’t-move-in-together-until-marriage was certainly about to rip that view right out of his head just for the chance to kiss you again.

He distracted himself by constantly checking up on you.

“Do you need food? I can have one of the guards stop by a local shop to grab- what do you mean everything is sold out? Can’t they just order more?”

“Jumin no-”

You had to teach him about video calling so he would stop asking for selfies every ten minutes, disputing his claim about how he ‘was already missing your beauty’. 

It went about as well as you might imagine it would...

“Press the little video icon to turn on your camera- no the other one. It looks like a small- NO JUMIN THAT’S THE MUTE BUTTON.”

When you did eventually get it working, he was more than thrilled to be able to talk to you face to face again. He even looked up how to take screenshots on his computer so he could save them.

“You know MC, this platform has a lot of potential uses...”

Down boy its only been a week.

At first you thought just video calling him was enough to satisfy his need to see you, hoping he would stop complaining about ‘missing your touch’.

That was until Driver Kim showed up at your door.

“Mr Han has asked that you pack your bags ma’am. It seems he is rather fond of the idea that you spend this quarantine with him instead.”

Of course he does.

You are thankful though, you missed him more than you were willing to admit. 

Saeyoung

This boy spends his life indoors anyway, he barely registered the lockdown announcement when it finally came.

But when you brought up the idea of spending quarantine with him instead of in your own apartment, that’s when his interest finally peaked.

He picked you up in one of his babies, grinning from ear to ear as he helped you with your small bag of things. 

“Operation 707 and 606′s lockdown extravanganza - COMMENCE!”

To no one’s surprise, he had hacked into the shopping network the moment he knew basic supplies would become sparse and ordered everything you both would need to come straight to his doorstep.

Which in his eyes meant a dozen boxes of Dr Pepper and Honey Buddha Chips. 

“Saeyoung.....”

He would often complain to you about being an ‘essential worker’ because he was still hacking even in the lockdown, but you quickly shot him down.

“MC! You’re so mean! I’m doing this for you! Reward me!!”

The only reward he got was a pillow to the face

When he wasn’t working, the two of you spent your time playing games and watching movies mostly, with the occasional prank call to Yoosung sprung in if you were extra bored.

As much as he joked around about it, Seven was genuinely thankful that you chose to spend such a delicate time with him instead of alone, and made sure to remind you of it at least once a week.

Sometimes he’d go out of his way to cook you your favourite meal, sometimes he’d run a special bubble bath and light some scented candles for a relaxing night, sometimes there were other things too-

But he was genuinely happy to spend every day with you like this, it reminded him of how lucky he was to have you in his life.

Jihyun

Jihyun was concerned at first about the lockdown and his career as a photographer.

Where was he going to go now? Where would he find his inspiration?

His questions were thankfully answered when you walked through the door.

The two of you started a small project amongst yourselves to try and spread some positivity in the community involving V’s photographs.

You’d find inspiration around the house you shared and create these elaborate photoshoots between the two of you that you would share online, encouraging those at home to do the same.

It actually became rather popular, so the two of you continued it.

Your personal favourite entries were the photographs from Jumin as he tried to capture Elizabeth in all her glory but failed miserably.

It was the effort that counted though

When you weren’t taking photos, Jihyun was constantly entertaining you with various activities and puzzles, leading to your weekly board game tradition which was one that you very much enjoyed.

Living in the countryside, you were lucky enough to be able to spend your exercise out in the wilderness with your boyfriend, mindlessly cloud gazing and discussing what the future could possibly have in store for the both of you.

You made sure to spend this time making Jihyun feel as loved as possible too, showering him with little gestures of gratitude for his efforts in keeping you sane during this scary time, which only made him fall in love with you more.

Saeran

Stuck.... inside...?

For months???

OH HELL NO-

Saeran was not about that lockdown life, and immediately went into a grump only you were able to drag him out of.

“Saeran it won’t be so bad! I’m sure it’ll go by in a flash!”

“....You’ll stay with me for it?”

“Of course.”

The two of you slowly get into a comfortable rhythm with eachother, with the you both making sure to give each other space if the other felt suffocated or emotionally drained at any point.

You find yourselves searching around the house for anything you could possibly use to entertain yourselves, eventually stumbling upon a pile of old jigsaw puzzles you had forgotten about.

And thus a tradition was born

Both you and Saeran discovered your love of jigsaws during the quarantine, finding them to be both mentally stimulating and emotionally relaxing at the same time.

Plus, the satisfaction of finishing one you had been working on for the last few hours was extremely satisfying to say the least and quickly became one of your favourite activities to do with Saeran.

You ended up asking Seven if he could do you a favour halfway through the lockdown when your boyfriend had had a particularly hard day, and low and behold, a whole box of ice cream appeared at your doorstep a week later.

“...MC how did this get here?”

“Must have been a miracle darling. Now, how about a movie night, hm?”

[aion-rsa]

The Suicide Squad Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains major The Suicide Squad spoilers. But you could tell that from the headline. We have a spoiler-free review here.

Well done! You’ve survived The Suicide Squad! 

James Gunn’s stunning supervillain flick is a brutal ride through DC’s most deep cut characters and now you want to dig deep into what happened. So we’re here to break down that shocking ending, where we leave our heroes, and what’s next for the Suicide Squad in the DCEU. Well, those of them who survived, at least…

The standalone (sort of sequel) movie centers around the Suicide Squad on a top secret mission. So off they go to Corto Maltese. 

We begin with two crews but only one actually survives the opening bloodbath. Those lucky few are led by Bloodsport (Idris Elba) and the crew consists of Ratcatcher 2 (Daniela Melchior), Polka-Dot Man (David Dastmalchian), Nanaue/King Shark (Steve Agee/Sylvester Stallone), and Peacemaker (John Cena). 

Later, they pick up Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman) and Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), who both somehow manage to survive the trap set by Amanda Waller. After much scheming and fighting, the team kidnaps the Thinker (Peter Capaldi) and make it to Jotunheim, the Nazi prison where the Corto Maltese government have been keeping Project Starfish A.K.A. Starro the Conqueror. But when they get there things begin to spiral out of control and that’s where we’ll begin…

Why Were Peacemaker and Rick Flagg Fighting?

While this is a movie filled with wild unexpected moments, the most shocking–to some viewers–twist comes when the truth about Project Starfish is revealed. And we’re not talking about the fact that it’s actually a giant starfish-like alien called Starro. 

No, the real horror here is that Project Starfish is and has always been run by the US government. Yep, it’s the US who have been testing on and torturing innocent humans, and the Squad wasn’t sent to stop Starro but were in fact there to destroy Jotunheim so that the US government and Amanda Waller’s involvement were kept under wraps. 

It’s not something that Rick Flag can stomach as he states, “I joined to serve my country not to be its puppet.” It’s an honorable moment that finally makes Flag a true hero, but it’s short lived. Amanda Waller always has a backup plan and here that plan wears red, white, blue, and a shiny helmet. 

Gunn’s searing action flick has a lot to say about war, America, and the nature of disposability, and Peacemaker is one of its most brutal statements. He’s a man who believes he “loves peace” but it “doesn’t matter how many people I have to kill to achieve it.” That in itself is the oxymoron of imperialism. 

In that way, Peacemaker and Flag represent two different versions of the patriotic ideal. Rick is the idealistic man who wants to do the right thing in the hopes of making his country live up to what he thinks it can be. But Peacemaker wants to protect his country no matter what horrific crimes they’ve committed. That’s why he agreed to be a mole for Waller within the Squad and why he decides to kill Flag when his former teammate wants to leak the records of America’s Project Starfish to the press. 

Sadly for us and Rick, Peacemaker succeeds, leaving Flag dead and the American ideal shattered.

Bloodsport Makes a Choice

With Peacemaker planning to stop the truth about Jotunheim from coming out at any cost, his next target is Ratcatcher 2 (Daniela Melchior). After the explosions incapacitate them, the brilliant young heroine grabs the disk with the damning records, leading Peacemaker to hunt her down. 

Just when it seems like he’s going to add another Squad member to his kill count, we skip backwards eight minutes. Here we see that Bloodsport, King Shark, Polka-Dot Man, Harley, and Milton have been setting the charges, which end up going off too soon. As they start to explode (and after the tragic death of Milton), Bloodsport ends up falling through the building on a large slab of concrete, landing in front of Peacemaker as he’s about to kill Ratcatcher 2. 

As he draws his weapon, Peacemaker does the same, leading to a fatal shootout. And in a hilarious callback to an earlier gag when Peacemaker claimed he could shoot better than Bloodsport thanks to smaller bullets which would shoot through his enemies’ bullets, Bloodsport beats him using exactly that tactic, apparently killing Peacemaker (more on that in a moment) and saving Ratcatcher 2. 

It’s a key moment for Bloodsport, who made a promise to his surrogate daughter that he’d get her out alive, and it’s the perfect way to wrap up Bloodsport’s arc in the film, from estranged father of a young daughter to a man trying his best to form more connections under difficult situations. Yay for the world’s best bad dad! 

The Suicide Squad Takes a Stand 

Now that Jotunheim is destroyed, Waller calls the remaining Squad–Bloodsport, Polka-Dot Man, Harley, King Shark, and Ratcatcher 2–telling them they have to go back to the US. But there’s one big problem: Starro is now freed and the giant alien is on a rampage. 

After decades of being tortured by Gaius Grieves A.K.A. the Thinker, Starro believes the city belongs to them and starts shooting out mini Starros in order to turn the population into mindless zombies. Starro is able to create countless self-replicating copies of itself, so the carnage being wreaked on Corto Maltese is probably only a preview of how quickly Starro could spread their influence throughout the entire world if left unchecked. 

For a moment it seems like the Squad will head back into Waller’s cold and cruel arms, leaving the people of Corto Maltese to their gruesome fate. But at the last moment Bloodsport chooses to go back and is soon joined by the rest of his crew. It’s a massively powerful moment and one that transcends even our core team as before Waller can blow their heads up her colleagues knock her out and begin to help the Squad on their unauthorized but massively heroic new mission to stop Starro and save Corto Maltese.

It’s one of several moments in the film that drives home the harder edges of Amanda Waller, who is played as close to a villain in this film as someone like Thinker or Corto Maltese dictator Silvio Luna.  

The Final Fate of Polka-Dot Man

David Dastmachlian’s performance as Abner Krill AKA Polka-Dot Man is one of the many stunning turns that the film has to offer. And while we’d love to say that the villain turned hero gets a happily ever after that’s not the case. In fact Polka-Dot Man gets an ending as tragic as his origin. After being tortured by his mother who infected him with a parasitic alien virus in the hopes of making him a superhero he became the villain known as Polka-Dot Man.

It’s not a conscious choice but more of a compulsion as he has to expel his deadly polka dot pustules or he’ll die. It’s the grossest power in a movie full of gross powers but as the crew face down Starro Abner finally comes into his superheroic own. 

As Bloodsport becomes the leader Waller always knew he could be, he uses Abner’s fear of his mother and the hallucinations he has of her to help him channel his powers into destroying Starro. Bloodshot yells “It’s your mother” and we see Starro through Abner’s eyes, the creature is transformed into a kaiju-sized version of the woman who ruined his life. His polka dots end up destroying one of Starro’s legs, and Abner celebrates screaming “I’m a real superhero!”

Just as Polka-Dot Man realizes his truly heroic nature, he’s killed by another of Starro’s limbs, crushed but finally happy in his last moments. It’s a fittingly bittersweet end for the unexpected and relatablely depressed hero.

The Final Fate of Starro 

Fighting a huge roaming starfish is no easy feat. It takes everything the Squad has to take down the monstrous creature, including that tragic sacrifice of Polka-Dot Man. When they catch up with Starro in the city, Harley takes the high ground using Javelin’s javelin to burst through Starro’s eye as Bloodsport and Ratcatcher 2 try to incapacitate the huge beast. 

As Harley swims around in Starro’s bloody eye she’s joined by thousands of rats called by Ratcatcher 2. The rodents swarm Starro, overcoming him as Ratcatcher 2 protects Bloodsport from his childhood fear come to life.

And with that, Starro is gone. 

Though Starro might have been a murderous alien kaiju by the end of the movie, they began life as a harmless creature floating through the stars, kidnapped by the American government. To kill him is a tragic but necessary act and one that cements the Squad as very much anti-heroes rather than the villains they began as. 

What’s Next for the Squad?

While we know that Peacemaker will get his own spinoff TV series on HBO Max (more on that below) it’s unclear what the rest of the crew will be doing after this. One thing is clear, though. They all have the freedom that they never thought they’d achieve. 

After killing Starro, Bloodsport blackmails Waller into letting him, Harley, Ratcatcher 2, and King Shark go. It means compromising Rick Flag’s final wish to reveal the truth of what Waller and the government did in Corto Maltese but it also allows Bloodsport and his crew to avoid returning to Belle Reve. It seems like the crew might stick together, especially in the case of Ratcatcher 2 and Bloodsport. 

Plus, once Flag’s friends find out that Peacemaker is still alive, they might have a score to settle. About that…

The Post Credits Scenes

The first of two post credits scenes is the big one. After we think that one good thing happened in this movie A.K.A. Peacemaker being killed by Bloodsport, Gunn has a shock for us. 

See, Peacemaker survived–to star in his upcoming HBO Max series–and Waller has sent two of her best to pick him up from his hospital bed where he’s recuperating in order to do nothing less than “save the fucking world.” After the brutal horrors that Peacemaker committed during the film, it seems strange that he’ll be taking a leading role in a TV series. But after the smart subversiveness of The Suicide Squad we’re cautiously optimistic. 

If you wait until the final moments of the credits once we’re done with all the good stuff like Special Thanks and celebrating all those amazing visual effects artists, then you’ll get to this gnarly and hilarious little stinger. 

If you throw your mind back to the beach-set murder fest at the beginning of the movie, the first character to apparently die is Weasel because no one checked whether ot not he could actually swim. It’s a sad and grotesque way to start the film, but there’s good news for anyone who loves the grody child-killing beast: he’s still alive. After all the drama of the past few days Weasel just popped back up and is totally and utterly alive. That means the people of Corto Maltese should probably watch out as there’s a murderous Weasel in their midst!

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The Suicide Squad is on HBO Max and in theaters now! 

The post The Suicide Squad Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[haberdashing]

open your eyes (i see your eyes are open) (4/?)

Jon, faced with being the last one left in a dying world, sends his memories back in time to someone who might be able to fix things before the worst can happen.

Sasha James, for her part, is very confused.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

on AO3

The visit to Artefact Storage was nice, but just like when she’d been reassigned, Sasha was only too happy to get out of there and head to the Archives, though she knew well enough now that the latter was plenty dangerous in its own right. At least she knew what to expect from the Archives. At least the Archives weren’t literally paying her to test out horrible, unpredictable things...

...no, that was Jon’s job now, wasn’t it? Elias had chosen him, the Web had chosen him, and now he was the Archivist, and he was going to be put through things much worse than anything Artefact Storage had to offer...

Sasha had started this train of thought in the hopes of reassuring herself, but instead, as she entered the Archives, she just felt a little queasy as she thought of what lay in store in Jon’s future.

Or what would lay in store in Jon’s future, anyway. Things wouldn’t be so bad this time around, not if Sasha had a say in it.

Jon was already in the Archives, perched over Tim’s desk as the two spoke about something, and Sasha was struck by the sight of him. He looked so different than he had in his final days before, and not just because his skin was free of scars--his hair was short and much less gray than before, he was still wearing a suit of all things rather than the hodgepodge of outfits he’d rummaged through as his professional mask slipped and his options grew slimmer...

...and, as Jon turned her way, Sasha could see his eyes focus on her, and though his gaze was still dark and meaningful, there wasn’t the same weight to it, the same sense of the universe itself staring back out of those deep eyes.

(She still felt like she was being watched, but that was only to be expected now, wasn’t it?)

“Good to see you, Sasha.” Jon shot her a quick nod. “I was just briefing Tim on his next project--you’re still working on the Hodgson file, correct?”

God, that felt like ages ago, though Jon had only given Sasha that assignment last Thursday. The Hodgson file wasn’t even one of the real ones, just somebody who’d gotten drunk and mistook what was probably a plane for an alien vessel, though Sasha was struggling to recall all the details at the moment. “Right, yeah, I was, er, having trouble looking up the relevant flight patterns, I believe it was? But I’ll keep trying, of course, so-”

Jon looked over Sasha again, and his gaze softened slightly. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, I... it’s just, um...” ...hell, she was struggling to come up with an excuse, so why even bother? She wanted to tell Jon about what she’d learned eventually, and perhaps now was as good a time as any. “Actually, could we talk in your office? When you’re done with Tim, I mean, I don’t mean to rush you.”

“I think we’re done here already.” There was a flat tone to Tim’s voice that set Sasha on edge--had he and Jon been arguing, perhaps?

“Oh, yes, we’ve covered pretty much everything I wanted to discuss at this point, so.” Jon rapped twice on Tim’s desk with a slender fist, a gesture Sasha had never seen him use before his promotion but had already encountered several times since. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Sounds like a plan, boss.” Tim’s voice had a bit more energy to it now, and as she walked with Jon to his office, Sasha saw him shoot her a wry grin.

Sasha closed the door behind her and took a seat as Jon got settled.

“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Well...”

That feeling of being watched that permeated the Institute was making the hairs on the back of Sasha’s neck stand up, and she knew it wasn’t just because Jon was looking at her with an expression somewhere between curious and impatient.

What were the odds that Elias- that Jonah Magnus was watching them right now? Probably not great, really, he did have an actual job besides just spying on his employees, but he certainly could be watching. Was thinking about it that much more likely to make it happen, drawing his attention to her thoughts? God, it was hard to know, wasn’t it? And that was the problem, being caught up with knowing and not knowing...

“Now that you’re the head archivist here, it’s your job to hear when the general public’s encountered something supernatural, right?”

“If it’s in a statement given to us, yes, but those are usually made by liars and the mentally unwell.”

Sasha did her best to drum up a smile. “Good thing this isn’t a statement, then, right?”

It could be a formal statement, probably, but Sasha didn’t want that, not when anybody with access to their archives could read it afterwards, not when there was information she now knew that could prevent the literal end of the world if the right people acted upon it.

A soft sigh, more perfunctory than anything. Jon was trying to play the grump again, but Sasha was pretty sure she could see through it even without everything she now knew about Jon masking his true feelings. “Where are you going with this, Sasha?”

“This weekend, my mind just- just filled with a ton of information suddenly. Info about you, about the other assistants, about the supernatural, about a little bit of everything really. Things I should have no way of knowing, but now I do. I figured you ought to know--could come in handy down the line.”

“Do you have any proof of this?” Jon tilted his head to one side slightly. “Something you shouldn’t know about me, perhaps--and not just from hacking, either?”

Sasha thought about arguing the point about hacking with Jon, but honestly, it was fair enough that she be called on it. Instead, she just nodded and took a deep breath--not that she really needed the extra air for what she was going to say, but because it felt right, and who was she to deny the moment that extra bit of dramatic flair?

“Mister Spider wants more.”

Jon’s face went pale in an instant, his gaze unfocusing as he seemed to look more through Sasha than at her.

“Jon?”

Jon didn’t respond.

“Jon, it’s okay!” Sasha rapped gently on his desk. “It’s just me. It’s not... it’s not that.”

Jon blinked rapidly a few times before shaking his head.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Jon was clearly not fine, as his hands were shaking slightly and his face still didn’t have its full color back, but Sasha wasn’t going to argue the point. “But I- I’ve never told anybody about that, how did you-”

��I told you. Weird supernatural information shoved into my head over the weekend. Simple as that.”

“Right. You- you weren’t making that up, then.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Sasha answered just the same. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Jon looked unconvinced, and Sasha suddenly remembered how when “Antonio Blake”’s statement had appeared, Jon had thought only Tim could be trusted to investigate it, only Tim could be ruled out for having written it as a practical joke on his new boss--that felt like an eternity ago, and yet it hadn’t even happened yet...

“You said you didn’t want to give a formal statement, correct? Was there any other action you expected from me regarding this?”

Sasha shrugged. She still wasn’t sure how much she could share, especially here, in the belly of the beast. Maybe in the tunnels, some time... assuming there still were tunnels, and they weren’t being plagued by worms or Not-Thems or murderous Jurgen Leitners...

“I just wanted you to know about it, mostly. I know a lot about these old archives now, so if you’ve ever got a question, I’m glad to do what I can. Not that I wouldn’t be willing to help anyway, but, you know, if I already know the location and validity of statement number 0051701, or whatever, might as well use it, right?”

Jon squinted a little. “What is statement number 0051701?”

“Oh, it’s...” Sasha let out a soft giggle. “We haven’t gone over it yet, but it’s about an old calliope organ.”

“Kuh-LY-o-pee.” Jon corrected.

“Ka-lee-O-pee.” Sasha repeated, a grin growing on her face. “Though there’s really no one correct pronunciation, or so I’ve heard.”

“...right. Well, thank you for letting me know about all this, I suppose.”

“Of course. You are the boss around here, right?”

“As Tim keeps reminding me, yes.”

Sasha stood back up and cracked open Jon’s office door, but before she left entirely, she added, “Seriously, reach out if you need me- or any of us, really. It’s not healthy to spend too long cooped up in here by yourself.”

“Duly noted.”

As the door closed behind Sasha, she could only hope that she was doing enough, that her offers to help would be taken advantage of when Jon needed it most.

[icecream-and-gadreel]

FMK Ch. 3: Sam, Benny, Crowley (NSFW)

Series Summary: Gabriel is known for his cruel, often times deadly pranks. So when you, Sam, and Dean found out he was up to his old ways again, you came with reinforcements. What should have been a swift victory turned into you being stuck in the wildest game you've ever played in your life.

Summary: The game continues on, with no end in sight. You could have sworn that your choices were different...

Pairing: readerxvarious

Other characters: Sam, Crowley, Benny, Dean(mentioned) Castiel(mentioned), Rowena

Rating: NSFW (Quick! Read it while your boss isn't looking!)

Warnings: Blanket Warnings: Due to the circumstances, all sex in this fic has dubious consent! Language, violence, death, unprotected sex, choking,

Word count: 1900+

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom​ @greenshinigamieyes @lipstickandwhiskey​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @bcarolinablr​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​

A/N: SooooooOOOOOOOO my muses took over and now I have on my hands, a pretty neat mystery. Enjoy!

Masterlist

The trickster really, really wants to make you feel like you live in this world. At least, that's the impression you're getting, seeing as you've been stuck in Purgatory for days!

You swing your makeshift axe with all of your might, a guttural scream escaping you as the vampire falls to the ground, her head rolling along the path. You stand with a heaving chest, holding your side. Your entire being hurts, from the areas where her punches connected to the calluses on your feet. Your body burns with every movement, but you have to keep pushing forward, less you get caught out in the open after sunset. That's when the real danger comes. Then again, danger is always right around the corner here. You begin collecting fallen branches, cursing yourself for ever agreeing to help the Winchesters out. Here you are, stuck in a god damn game while they're probably cutting their losses and planning your funeral. Hooting and howling break you from your thoughts, an uncomfortable shiver creeping up your spine. It's time to get moving. You set up your branches in a pile, collecting dead grass for kindling. Though it takes a few tries, you're able to create a pretty nice bond fire. Slumping down against a tree, you stare up at the sky, watching as stars begin to appear. Just as your eyes bat shut, you hear a rustling in the bushes a short distance from you, pulling you from your comfort. You dart your eyes around, sucking in a breath as the rustling draws closer and closer. From which direction, you aren't sure. You grip your axe tight, raising to your feet with a clenched jaw.

“Where the hell are you?” you whisper, a breathless yelp escaping you as someone – or something – snatches you into the bushes. Your assailant snatches your axe, and much to your dismay tosses it to the side. You fight as he grips at your arms, eyes going wide when they adjust to the darkness. Benny.  

He pins your arms above your head, his legs keeping you pressed against the ground. Benny bares his teeth, a growl escaping his lips as he lowers to your neck.

“Benny –” You cut yourself off with a squeak, huffing as he nibbles at your neck.

“Y'gotta be more careful, cher,” he cooes against you, his breath warming your skin. He trails his lips to your throat, peppering your skin in kisses. “A beast far less cuddly than me would've taken you out,” he adds chuckling as you struggle in his grasp.

“Get off me,” you growl. He immediately complies with a wide smile on his face. The anger that was bubbling inside you dissipates, and you shake your head, raising your hand up to him. Silently, he helps you to your feet, holding his hands up in defense as you brush past him and reclaim your place under the tree.

“You got a nice lil camp here,” he says as he trails after you. You grunt in response, eyeing him suspiciously. Memories of running into him over and over fill your head. The only friendly face you've ever seen out here. Benny whistles to himself with his hands stretched over the fire. You keep your eyes on him, jaw clenching when you finally gain his attention.

“What do you want?” you ask. Benny stares down at you with hooded eyes, that same damn smile tugging at his cheeks. “It's clear you've been tailing me,” you add, gaining a hearty laugh from the vampire.

“Just making sure my partner in crime stays alive,” he says, plopping down next to you and giving your knee a gentle pat. When you remain silent, he chuckles, clenching his chest with an exaggerated grimace. “You stare right through my very soul, cher,” he cooes, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to share the fire with ya,” he says. You snort, shaking your head at him. 'sharing the fire' with Benny usually meant cuddling and dry humping. You think back to the past few days, sucking in a breath as he closes the space between you. Benny cradles your face, brushing a feathery light kiss against your lips. You let out a sigh of content, batting your eyes shut and pulling closer to him. His kisses are gentle, yet somehow disinterested, as if he knows these are the steps to get what you both want. There doesn't have to be any passion behind what you do. Benny leads you to the ground, yanking your pants down your thighs and deepening the kiss. He wastes no time pressing between your thighs, grinding down against you as his length hardens. The vampire swallows your moans, hands squeezing and caressing your breasts. He fumbles with his zipper as he suckles on your bottom lip, pulling out of the kiss when finally, his cock is free. You spread your legs wider for him, moaning when he grinds the thick head of his cock between your folds. You cry out as he thrusts into you, and he pauses, placing his hand over your mouth and shaking his head. “Can't be making too much noise beautiful,” he whispers, eyes darting around the area as he rotates his hips. 

Benny turns his eyes down at you, eyes dark with lust and lip bit between his teeth. He drags his hips back, enjoying the warm, tight grip around his cock before bottoming out inside of you. He keeps this methodic, agonizing pace, soft growls and groans escaping his lips. “No one's gonna hurt you, cher –” the vampire nuzzles into the crook of your neck – “They'll know who you belong to,” he whispers before sucking your skin between his lips. He slowly works a hickey onto your neck, giving you short quick thrusts in the process. You arch up against him as pleasure courses through you, your edge quickly approaching. Your moans and cries are muffled by his hand, masking your orgasm as it pulses through you. Your walls clench around him, and he stutters his hips, his orgasm coming closely after yours. Benny bites down on your neck to suppress his moans, his cock pulsing inside of you. After many moments of silence, he slips his hand from over your mouth, panting in your ear. 

"Who I belong to, huh?" you say, chuckling and batting your eyes shut. The smell of linen fills the air, and the ground beneath you feels far plusher than before. 

–

You want to open your eyes, but the warmth of the blanket draped around your shoulders, along with the soft pillow underneath your head makes it almost impossible. Alas, your relaxation is interrupted by a knock at the door. With a huff, you lean up, peeking an eye open. A breath escapes you as your eyes take in your surroundings. Everything is dripping in luxury, from the gold trim on the walls to the expensive, humongous bed you're lying in. You shake the thoughts away as someone knocks once more, rubbing your eye.

“What?” you yell, face falling when someone shifts underneath the blankets. You rip your eyes from him as the door flings open, gulping thick. “Ro...wena?” you say, the unfamiliar name sounding foreign on your tongue. She gives you a lazily wave, flicking her eyes to him.

“Feerrrgus,” she sings, gaining a grunt in return.

“It's Crowley,” he rasps, his head still buried in the pillow.

“How my lazy boy runs a kingdom is a mystery to me,” she cooes, sucking her teeth and gesturing to you. “Your blushing bride is ready to get up, why aren't you?”

“Ugh,” Crowley grumbles, turning to you and propping himself up on one arm. You want to recoil, to find a weapon, and catch him off guard, but all you can feel is an overwhelming love for him. You run your fingers through his messy hair, gaining a cocked smile from him. “Why aren't you sleeping, love?” he asks. Before you can respond, he brushes a hand over your cheek. “Such a beauty, fit to rule right by my side, isn't she?” he asks, turning his eyes to the other woman. Rowena nods, clasping her hands together.

“She won't be by your side if you're late to your own wedding Fergus,” she says, gaining a glare from your fiance. You giggle at their antics before pressing a kiss on Crowley's forehead.

“We'll get dressed,” you say. Reluctantly, Rowena leaves the room, gently closing the door behind herself. Crowley flips the blankets from over you both, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Yesterday was grueling,” he grumbles, looking at you over his shoulder. “My body aches, my followers are idiots, and soul collection is down thanks to my part-time enemies.”

You rub a hand over his back and poke out your bottom lip. “Poor baby. At least we're one step closer to our honeymoon,” you coo. He leans over you, pressing a kiss against your lips with a soft breath.

“I'll reserve Paris,” he whispers.

“And we'll get to use those extra three inches.” You flick your eyes down to his boxers with a grin. He cocks an eyebrow, climbing over you and humming.

“We're gonna use them right now,” he rasps, pushing between your thighs. “Practice for the honeymoon.” He shoots you a wink, and this sends you into a laughing fit. Slowly, the lights in the room begin to fade to black, but your hearty laughter continues, even when the warmth around you turns cold and murky.

–

Your laughs and giggles fill the warehouse. You feel manic, elated. Your hands wrap around Sam's throat, adding more and more pressure as he begins to struggle. He stares up at you with wide eyes, gripping your wrists.

“Y/N – stop –” he chokes over the words, banging at your fists and writhing beneath you. This is amazing. You laugh even harder, banging his head against the ground and tightening your grasp. He mouths a word at you, but no sound comes.

“I wish I could stop Sam,” you say, giggling over the words. Your hands waiver, and in the brief moment of relief Sam manages to spit out one faint word.

“Trickster.” Your laughter immediately stops, and your hands loosen further. You slide from on top of him, sitting on the ground as the moment finally settles. You don't want to hurt Sam, you never did. Sam takes in heaving breaths, twisting to his side and coughing. This feels different. You grip his shoulder and he turns his gaze to you, hesitating before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “It's really you?” he breathes, squeezing you tighter when you nod. “It's really you,” he repeats, ragged breaths escaping him.

“Where the hell were you guys?” you ask, pulling out of the hug. He begins to speak, pausing when his eyes train on something behind you. You follow his gaze, clenching your jaw. That damn notebook.

“Have you...been playing a game?” he asks. You turn back to him, frowning.

“Fuck marry kill,” you say. Sam holds a hand over his throat, nodding.

“Yeah. Me too. Except this time...you were on the list again –”

“Same here,” you say.

“I lost Dean and Cas after I popped up in a different room,” he says. Your mind goes back to Castiel. There's no telling how many times he tried to reach out to you. “But...this means he's tryna make us kill each other?” he asks. “I never chose kill for you,” he adds. You frown, picking up the notebook and flipping it open.

“Neither did I,” you say, showing him the filled out page.

BENNY: Fuck SAM WINCHESTER: Marry CROWLEY: Kill

You both share a look, an uncomfortable air filling the room.