#got this thought from the fic trace (vestiges)

[pennamepersona]

i'm actually super compelled by the concept that phoenix is the only one who thought miles actually died and that everyone else knew he went abroad but the second phoenix read the note he just refused to talk to anyone about it ever again

[infini-tree]

FANFIC: against all odds - part 2

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Summary: One time they dwell on the thought of being caught, and the one time they were. It all works out, kind of. (Piqua Mystery Dungeon)

A/N: ‘i make no promises,’ i say, immediately writing the third fic for this au in one week? have I ever mentioned that the first thing I made fancontent of was the first pmd game?

Also, this really is just an opportunity to practice writing more scenes with the boys and figure out their tone.

_____________________________

George recalled a time when his dad called him precocious. 

What does that mean, he remembered saying. 

It means that you’re very smart for your age, his dad replied with a grin. You already get basic type matchups and dungeon theory better than most groups your mom’s mentoring in the guild she’s workin’ with!

The snivy had let out a laugh at the mental image of himself trouncing a bunch of grown-ups. Whoa, really?

Swear on the Lake Trio’s jewels, he said, putting up a hand to his chest, and he let out a little giggle as he lifted him up, up, up.

Experiencing the real thing was a bit of a-- well, maybe disappointment wasn’t the right word. Accurate, but not fitting. Tedious, maybe. The long stretches of nothing in-between took up more time than the actual dungeons themselves. He looked over to Harold, and he knew he felt the same.

The walk was silent and oppressive. George unfurled his vine-tie slightly and something fell out and onto his palm. It was a shiny half of a disc, but upon closer inspection its lustre had flaked away to reveal the clay underneath.

Sometimes he would turn the thing over in his hands, but if he had to be honest he had no idea why he kept the remains of the novelty hypno pendulum.

When the snivy first used it, he hadn’t expected anything to happen. He heard tales of the line being able to hypnotize its foes to sleep, and in the more outlandish stories suggest them to do something. Ultimately, it was a desperate act, and maybe that desperation was the thing that made it work.

It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that happened to them, but it had the distinction of being one of the first.

The latest strange thing was the quiet. Him and Harold knew Krupp-- knew how to get under his skin in record time, how to avoid him, the works. They knew how explosive his temper was-- even for an ice-type!

They also know that he was at its worst when he was quiet, so when the abomasnow didn’t react to the bombshell that was being Captain Underpants, it was... unnerving.

For the past few minutes, the boys were giving each other a Look, nudging the other into asking what was on both of their minds. Eventually, hesitance wore into mild frustration. George sighed, then pointed a glance Harold-wards that meant you owe me before breaking the silence with a long “Uuuuuuuh...”

“Yes?” Krupp cut in.

The snivy flipped the pendulum piece to his other hand. “Aren’t you mad?”

“About what?”

“About, you know-- hypnotizing you?” When no answer came, he prodded with, “Being Captain Underpants?”

The pine needles on his arm adjusted themselves in agitation. The snow on it sloughed off at the sudden motion and the boys had to step around the snow drift that was now on the middle of the road.

“You are mad!” Harold interjected.

The abomasnow’s tail slammed to the ground. “Of course I’m mad.”

“What he means is, we kind of expected, I dunno, yelling?” George explained. “Something about how we’re literally the worst-- anything!”

His pace slowed down. Krupp finally looked back at them for the first time since they explained the whole thing, but the expression was all wrong. His brow was more pinched in confusion than frustration. “What, you want me to yell at you?”

“No, but we’re kind of expecting it and would like to get it over with,” the snivy said with a shrug.

The temperature dropped several degrees. There was the frustration. Harold brought himself closer to George, and he leaned into the fluffy warmth.

“Get it over with--” Krupp spluttered. “We are literally being hunted down by every team this side of the region. Someone claiming to be one of my students from the future is spearheading that hunt and not only are pokemon listening to that, but he ripped my guildmaster title from me in what is essentially a forceful takeover.”

A thin layer of frost began forming on the path.

“I’m sorry I’m not dedicating every moment of my time being the World’s Worst Guildmaster, but some of us here have priorities. Like, say keeping himself and two children from not dying on his watch? From not getting caught?” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you know what they’re going to do to us if they catch us?

“I know those idiotic comics were a parody of the actual stories, but do you know what you’re parodying in the first place?” Puffs of frost breath punctuated each breath. “I know neither of you like applying yourselves, but you have to be at least a little aware.”

Harold had taken to picking at the ground with one of his front hooves. George traced a digit over the edge of the broken piece anxiously. Neither of them spoke up.

“Are you satisfied with that lecture?” And just like that, the frost started to melt. It slowly got warmer. “Because I’m not.”

(The boys never liked the quiet in general. Maybe that was why they were always so offput whenever he was.)

_____________________________

It wasn’t long before Krupp and Captain Underpants started talking. They kind of expected that. More often than not, they would wake up to scratching noises as one of them tried to write in the dirt with one of their pine needles.

What was more surprising was how quickly they had compromised on the whole switching thing.

“I’m good at fighting, and Guildmaster is good at planning travel stuff,” Captain explained as he floated them over to where the stairs were. “Neither of us are good at puzzles, but at least we haven’t encountered any!”

“Just like that?” Harold tilted his head.

The abomasnow ground his teeth in what was his attempt at a grimace. It looked weird on his face. “He said it was a matter of practicality, and working with what we’re good at makes sens-- ACH!”

His body tensed up in pain, and he instinctively held them closer to protect them. Harold began to struggle in his tight grip, eyes darting in every direction to figure out what had hit them.

“Captain? What’s wrong?” Panic began to creep into George’s tone.

“Hey, guys,” a familiar voice cut in.

George and Harold paled at the sight of Erica clambering up on the abomasnow’s shoulder. Even in the gloom of the dungeon, the violet crest around her neck glinted.

And Captain was going down, down, down. They braced for impact.

_____________________________

Erica, out of the boys’ circle of friends, was one of the ones who was more in-tune into their misadventures and ready to lend a helping hand. Erica was also the scariest guildmember-slash-student they’ve ever met; she had a cool head and popped up where you least expected. 

It was honestly no surprise that out of everyone, she was the first one who cornered them, and right between the stairs out of this place, too!

“What did you do to him?” Harold yelled, nudging the abomasnow to his feet. 

Captain looked, for a lack of a better word-- terrible. He looked like one more hit would do him in. While landing face-first would definitely leave a mark, they knew him long enough that it shouldn’t leave him straining.

And that’s when George finally noticed what was in the axew’s hands. In one hand was the three-pronged pounce wand that brought her up there with them, whining as the last vestiges of its power left it. In the other, the spiked two-edged wand also making a dying down noise-- it was most likely the thing that brought them down.

“Relax, I just didn’t want you guys to immediately fly off.”

Still, there were more pressing questions, like, “Why are you helping Melvinborg?” George made a face like the name was as bitter as the duosion’s personality.

“We all... kinda got no choice,” Erica replied with the nonchalance of listing off the day’s errands. The only thing that betrayed her was how she gripped the now-defunct wands in a vicegrip. Then, belatedly, “Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, wait, um-- uh--” Captain rushed forward in front of them, his arms spread out to protect them despite his fatigue. His face was scrunched up in the way he does when he was overthinking and none of them could tell whether it was because of the abomasnow’s fatigue or because he really didn’t know that he settled on, “Before you, uh-- take us in-- Plungerina can we talk, one human-turned-pokemon to another?”

To Erica’s credit, she was only tripped up for a moment before she steeled herself for a bit of improv. “Sure, right after I catch you.” She lunged forward and--

Tripped. Somehow. She poked her head up to look at the one entrance to the room, then seeing that no one was there, she opened her backpack and threw a box at their feet.

“Oh no, I am petrified,” she said, practically announced for all the floor to hear. Then, in a more regular speaking volume, “I hope they don’t take the care package I dropped that has supplies and letters from their friends and family.”

There was a moment of silence as the three of them processed what she said. And when they did, George put it in his satchel. “I... thanks, Erica.”

“You’re not welcome, because you stole from me, remember?” she said with a conspiratorial wink. She turned her attention to Captain. “You got one question before the rest catch up.”

“Do you know what they’re going to do to us once you turn us in?” The abomasnow was concerned, to put it mildly. But his tone reminded Harold of the same one he had when he asked long ago where dad went. Naïve, but you knew deep down.

Considering his talks with Krupp, he probably knows in some capacity.

“I figured you’ve been in tough scrapes like this, but I suppose maybe not?” His arms lowered. Harold looked at him worriedly; his pine needles were still shot up and pierced through his cape, despite the lull.

The axew appraised him for a moment, and she noticed the needles, too. “It’s weird to see you think this hard about anything.”

The boys grimaced at how blunt she was, but its definitely crossed their minds.

“It’s weird to think hard about anything!” Captain laughed.

“To answer your question, no, I don’t,” she frowned. “Knowing Melvin, and by extension Melvinborg, it’s probably something else than the, uh... standard. You know how he is with tinkering dungeon items to be more potent.”

And just like that, Captain’s cheery mood was back, even if it was a little more sedate than usual. The needles settled to its more natural position. “Okey-dokey, thanks Plungerina!”

All four of them tensed up at the sudden sound of shouting.

“Time’s up,” she gave a half-smirk half-smile. “Also, there’s a petrify orb in the package. Gotta make this look convincing, you know?”

“O-- oh!” George floundered for a moment before opening the box and taking it out. It let out a low hum.

“Don’t expect this to be a repeat thing,” she added, in the tone of voice that mean to definitely expect it. She stared at him, sensing his hesitance. “Relax, I’ll be fine-- the other teams are coming up and will bring me back first before getting to you. It’ll buy you a bit more time.”

The snivy was still a bit unsure about the whole prospect, but he held it high anyway. It flashed and it froze Erica in place before disappearing in a puff of smoke. And then they ran for the stairs.

(And then they continued to run.)

[gerrystamour]

love is a target with my heart painted on it

Written by: GerryStAmour

Explicit B-Sides Fic: [LINK]

Chapter One: Letting Go [Chapter Two]

“Juno,” Nureyev began hesitantly, and it was that particular tone that made Juno look up at him. He regretted looking when he noticed the man holding the white, silk garment bag that had been hidden deep in his closet. “This doesn’t appear to be one of Buddy’s costumes.”

“‘Cos it’s not,” Juno manages to say, looking back down at the journal he had been looking at. The aim was for nonchalant, but he landed on flat. There was a part of him that knew the topic wouldn’t be dropped, but he still hoped that it would. It took a great effort to not snap at the weight of Nureyev’s expectant stare.

But what could Juno possibly say? There was nothing he could say that wasn’t completely pathetic, and even if there was…

The only reason it was even  visible was that the closet was close to empty. He had been staying the night in Nureyev’s quarters so often, his clothing was migrating as well. This was one of the rare times Juno found himself in his own quarters for any length of time, especially with Nureyev joining him, and it was mostly to look over some notes he had taken during a case he had solved a few years back. A few details about their current mark had some elements of deja vu, and Juno wanted to check his leads.

The thief sighed as the silence stretched, and Juno braced himself. 

“Why is there a wedding gown in your closet, Juno?” Nureyev pressed gently, but it still triggered his response to strike out at him like a wounded animal.

“Why do you think there’s a wedding dress in my closet, Nureyev?” Juno snapped as he looked back at Nureyev, his tone defensive and vicious, and he immediately regretted it.

The man just watched him patiently from where he stood, an eyebrow raised delicately, but his expression impossibly soft. How could Nureyev just take his mean streak like that so easily, not even flinch or get angry in return? 

‘I don’t deserve him,’  Juno thought sadly for a moment, mind swirling around the day he knew would come when Nureyev decided he was more work than he was worth, that he was too much like Sarah Steel, that--  ‘No. We are not doing that again,’ he thought sternly and shook his head, looking away uncomfortably.

“Well, normally I would assume you were prepared to be married soon,” Nureyev responded slowly, keeping a gentle sort of humour in his voice as he did. “Judging from your tone, however, I doubt that you’re secretly engaged or planning to propose to anyone.”

Juno put down the journal he had been leafing through and turned to face Nureyev fully, defensive fury flashing through him again. His anger was unfair, and Juno knew it, and that only made him more frustrated with himself.

“You seriously want to talk about this right now? Make a whole big deal about it?” he asked, leaning his elbows on his knees and narrowing his eyes at Nureyev.

“Yes, Juno, I would like to address why my lover has a  stunning  wedding gown in his closet,” the thief said firmly, and a hint of exasperation had entered his tone. The vicious part of Juno’s self-esteem celebrated that as a victory before he squashed it down. Nureyev’s tone softened as he continued, gently adding, “especially a wedding gown that makes him so upset.”

At that, Nureyev crossed the room to sit next to Juno at the end of the bed. Nureyev kept about a foot and a half of space between them, allowing him the distance he needed. Juno was grateful for that and felt some of the tension twisting his guts into knots relax a bit.

“I will understand if you wish to talk about this another time,” Nureyev added, holding a hand out on the bed between them, palm up, for Juno to take if he wished. “But if we are serious about working on our communication, we will have to revisit this eventually.”

“Fine,” Juno said with an explosive sigh, ignoring the thief’s hand for the time being. “Fine, we’ll talk. I was engaged, and then Ben died, so then I started drinking and spiralling and got fired, so then I got dumped, too. So there,  that  is why I have a fucking wedding dress in my fucking closet, Nureyev. Happy?”

If he hadn’t felt so nauseated and anxious about the conversation he was suddenly having, the stunned silence would have made Juno laugh. Nureyev seemed legitimately taken aback by the revelation and was doing an admirable job of processing the wave of new information without gaping dumbly.

“C’mon, Nureyev,” Juno eventually said with a roll of his eye when the tense silence stretched on. “It’s not like all of that wasn’t public knowledge at the time. You’ve researched me before, you had to have known.”

“I’ve only researched what was relevant for a… professional relationship,” Nureyev confessed, shrugging with a roguish smile when Juno raised an eyebrow at him. “I was taken with you very early on, my dear Juno, and had hoped for something to come of it. Since you couldn’t look up  my personal information, it didn’t seem fair for me to pry into yours.”

“How considerate,” Juno replied with an eye-roll, but the sarcasm didn’t quite come through. The thought of Nureyev refraining from digging into his private, yet very publicly-known trail of fuck-ups, hoping to learn them on a more equal footing together, made something in his chest go very soft.

“I am known to be so on occasion,” the thief teased before his face turned a bit more serious again. “Now, none of that truly answered the question of  why  you have a wedding dress in your closet.”

“The hell do you mean by that, Nureyev?” Juno snapped, cringing at the overreaction. “You asked why, I told you I was engaged, so there. An answer.”

“That was an answer for how you came to acquire such a gown, yes,” Nureyev conceded thoughtfully, humming as he nodded. “However, this is at least the second closet it has been moved to since that time. It has been years, yet you carry it with you still, making space for it in your life even where there really  isn’t any.”

Juno just chuckled a bit at that and sighed, the remaining tension in his body bleeding out of him. “Would you accept ‘I spent way too many creds on that thing to just toss it out’?” he eventually asked with a pleading smile, legitimately grinning when Nureyev laughed.

“Apologies, Juno. You will have to give me better than that to get out of this,” the thief replied warmly.

“Damn, that always works with Rita,” he lamented, laughing a bit along with Nureyev. Eventually, he sighed and finally took the hand the other man had offered earlier in their conversation, scooting over so that they were pressed against each other’s sides. Nureyev sighed and pulled their clasped hands into his lap and lifted his other hand to trace little shapes into the back of Juno’s.

“Why did you keep the dress, my love?” Nureyev prompted, his tone soft and barely loud enough for Juno to hear.

“I guess it was the last thing I had, from before everything went wrong,” Juno finally admitted, shrugging half-heartedly. He had processed a lot of this in his own way a long time ago, but to actually say it out loud to someone,  to Nureyev , had tears springing to his eyes. “It was the only thing that I had when I moved out of Diamond’s place. Just me and that dress in an empty apartment.”

Now that he said it out loud, the absurdity of it hit him and Juno began to laugh, wiping a tear that fell from his eye. “I haven’t even worn it since the final fitting,” he admitted, looking up at the ceiling of his quarters and biting his lip. “I wouldn’t even wear it if I  had a reason to now.”

As a shaky breath escaped him, Nureyev let go of his hand and pulled him into a hug. Juno was held tightly against Nureyev’s chest while one hand gently pet the back of his head while the other rubbed his back. Juno couldn’t have helped the contented sigh that escaped him if he had wanted to, and he could ignore how close to a sob it had sounded for the time being.

“Thank you for telling me all of that, goddess,” Nureyev said against the top of his head, pressing a kiss there before tipping them so they were laying down on the bed on their sides together. 

It was an awkward position, with their legs still hanging most of the way off the edge. Juno curled his legs up, trying to scoot further onto the bed. Taking it as a hint, Nureyev demonstrated just how deceptively strong he could be by lifting Juno and carrying him up to the pillows. 

When they pulled back to meet each other’s gaze, Juno gave Nureyev a watery smile and a sheepish shrug. “It was nothing, telling you I mean,” Juno sighed. “Hearing it out loud makes it seem ridiculous. I should really let go of it.”

“That is entirely up to you, love,” Nureyev reassured him. “There is no need to rush, and we’re not exactly in a position to sell it if that’s the direction you wanted to go.”

“I’ll think of something,” Juno replied. “Destroying it might even be cathartic.”

“It wouldn’t,” Nureyev said flatly. “That would be a complete waste, and considering it’s a symbol for a time before destruction was wrought upon your life, it might cause more harm to destroy it.”

“You’re probably right,” Juno agreed a bit grudgingly, but even as he grumbled, an idea popped into his head and took root immediately. Silence fell over them again while they watched each other, gently holding each other’s cheeks. After a few minutes, Juno said, “I’m sorry for getting mean. It’s not fair to treat you like crap like that.”

“Thank you, Juno,” Nureyev replied, straining forward a bit to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“I’ll try and make it up to you,” Juno promised with a suggestive wink.

“You always do,” Nureyev said around a laugh, his grin almost blinding as he leaned forward to kiss Juno again, deeply this time, and chase away the final vestiges of his melancholy.

“Hey Buddy,” Juno said, shifting awkwardly in the hall outside her door.

“Juno, darling, what is it?” she asked, concern so genuine in her tone that Juno felt the threatening prickle of tears again. One day, an older woman would show bare minimum concern for his well-being and he  wouldn’t have the knee-jerk reaction to either fight her or cry, but today was not that day.

“Nothing, at least nothing bad. I wanted to talk to Vespa for a minute,” he replied in a rush, meeting the doctor’s eyes around the captain’s shoulder. “Privately?”

“Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of the captain, Steel,” Vespa growled, already on the defence and baring her teeth.

“Come on in, Juno,” Buddy said with a smile, which was a bit strained at the prospect of Juno and Vespa getting into another rip-roaring argument on their downtime as well. “And yes, I would prefer to be present for any disagreements or grievances you might have with each other. You know that, Juno.”

“This isn’t a grievance, or a disagreement, or whatever,” Juno almost pouted, wringing his hands around the metal hook on the hanger behind his back. “I have something for Vespa, a gift or whatever, and I guess I could give it to her in front of you but it’s a little personal, so it’s like  really uncomfortable--”

“Enough, darling, I can step into the bedroom while you chat with Vespa,” Buddy soothed, ushering him the rest of the way in and shutting the door. From what he could see of her expression past the curtain of red hair, she had clocked the garment bag he was holding and was deliberately schooling her expression into a neutral mask. 

Buddy walked through the sitting room of her quarters, pausing to give Vespa a reassuring squeeze of her hand, and disappeared into the bedroom.

Juno stood awkwardly near the door, shuffling his feet and watching the woman across from him. She had obviously been relaxing before he arrived, and was now standing stiffly in a half-crouch, glaring at him thoughtfully. Vespa’s hair was starting to grow out nicely, looking less and less thin every week, and she was filling out a bit now that she was eating regularly. Vespa was beautiful, and after everything she had gone through to finally reach this point, she deserved beautiful things.

“Well? Spit it out, Steel,” she snapped, clearly nervous at the extended silence in the room.

“Here, for your wedding, if you want,” Juno said, stepping closer and holding the garment bag out to her. “We’re about the same height--”

“I’m taller,” Vespa growled, eyes glued to the white garment bag in front of her as if it were a venomous snake about to bite her.

“Okay, whatever Vespa, I had it altered with super high heels in mind, so I’m sure it will be fine,” Juno sighed, trying to keep his cool for the rest of the conversation. “I’m broader, too, so it will definitely need to be altered--”

“Why the hell would I want a dress, Steel?” Vespa interrupted, wrapping her arms around her middle and finally looking back at his face. “Do I  look  like someone who would wear a goddamned fucking dress?”

“No, you don’t. Like you really, really don’t, Vespa. But it’s also your wedding and,” Juno paused, sighing, “I’ve had this dress for a long time, and it deserves to make someone happy again.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Vespa asked, and for once the growl left her tone. She was talking in a way Juno had only heard glimpses of between her and Buddy. She was caught off-guard, and she was opening herself up to him, asking him to say clearly what he was offering her.

“I guess if someone was going to wear it, I would want…” Juno trailed off a bit, swallowing around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, and took a fortifying breath. “I would want my  family  to have it.”

There was a long, pregnant silence as Juno struggled to meet Vespa’s eyes and the woman gaped at him. It hit Juno just how sappy that had sounded and his face heated up  almost painfully and he began to withdraw his proffered hand. His movement seemed to trigger a response from Vespa, and her face contorted a bit.

“What the fuck, Steel--”

“Listen, if you don’t want it, fine, I thought I would offer before I sold it--”

“I didn’t say I didn’t fucking want it, Steel,” Vespa hissed, snatching the garment bag and holding it to her chest. Scrubbing harshly at her eyes, which seemed very red and watery all of a sudden, she looked down at it. “You can’t just take gifts back like that.”

“Well, it didn’t really seem like you wanted it!” Juno said defensively, but a smile was on his face.

“This doesn’t mean I’ll actually wear it, Steel,” she bit out, meeting his gaze firmly, but without the defensive anger she would normally project. “I accept your gift, but I’ll probably still hate it because I don’t. Wear. Dresses.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Juno said, throwing his hands up and backing toward the door. “Just make sure you get a good price for it when you sell it.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steel,” Vespa said sharply, but she was looking at the garment bag with very obvious tears in her eyes. “Get out of here.”

“Yup, yup, I’m gone,” Juno said, slipping out the door and closing it behind himself. He hesitated just long enough to hear Buddy rejoin Vespa, the zipper of the garment bag, and both of their gasps at seeing the gown before hurrying off down the hall.

He felt pretty good about things and definitely wanted to share this good cheer with someone special.

The next morning found Juno sitting in the common room (or the rec room, whatever) and staring through the big window into the vacuum of space. He was still sleepy and working on his first cup of coffee, and he yawned loudly into the empty room. For once, Juno had risen before Nureyev, and he was excited to tease him with that the moment he awoke.

“Juno, you’re up early.”

Juno yelped and spilt his coffee a bit, hissing at the slight burn of it through his thin shirt and turned his head to glare at Buddy as she rounded the couch.

“Yeah, I know, a real shock,” he grumbled bitterly as he wiped at the wet spot on his chest.

“I’m glad to have caught you alone, darling. I was dreading getting you away from Ransom to say this,” she confessed as she sat down next to him, laughing at that thought before turning serious and meeting Juno’s eye. “I wanted to thank you for the gown.”

He cringed at that and shook his head, putting his coffee down on the table in front of them. “Buddy, you don’t--”

“No, Juno, you will let me finish. I wanted to thank you for the gown; it is absolutely gorgeous and Vespa is quite taken with it,” Buddy said, sighing quickly before adding, “it is too gorgeous, in fact, for me to accept it free of charge. It is a beautiful gown and must have tremendous sentimental value.”

“Okay, Buddy, I want to stop you there,” Juno said in a tired voice. “It did have sentimental value, it still does, but not really the good kind. It was a reminder, and I just… it’s better off with someone else. I promise.”

“But what about you? It’s your dress, and you and Ransom seem to be hitting it off very well,” Buddy continued, her expression serious.

“Ransom? And me?” Juno sputtered, shaking his head and feeling his face heat. “I mean that might be an um, a possibility, in a few years if we survive, but r-r-right now? No.”

“I didn’t say ‘right now,’ Juno,” Buddy replied knowingly, smiling gently.

“Yeah, I know, but that dress belonged to a different Juno, from a different time, and it was for Diamond,” he said in a rush, looking back out the window. “It wouldn’t feel right wearing it for Ransom, or anyone else.”

Buddy hummed thoughtfully and said, “that makes sense, darling. It still does not cover the question of compensation, though.”

“It’s a gift,” Juno said firmly, glancing back at his captain.

“It’s far too nice to be a gift, darling,” Buddy insisted. “At least not for free.”

“It wasn’t ‘free,’ Buddy,” Juno insisted, turning to look at her fully again. “I told Vespa yesterday that if someone was going to have it, I wanted it to be family. I figured she’d’ve told you.”

From the dumbstruck expression on Buddy’s face, Vespa had  not told her the conditions of the gift and Juno flinched when her eye turned glassy and wet with unshed tears. Juno felt his own eye tear up and looked up at the ceiling to try and stop them from falling.

“So, the price of the gown was putting up with my bullshit long enough for me to get all attached and needy,” Juno bit out, letting out a shuddery breath.

“Oh, Juno, darling,” Buddy said breathlessly, and suddenly Juno found himself in a firm hug that caught him off guard. The captain was much stronger than she looked; the way she clung to him the embrace was almost painful. He returned it readily though, laughing a bit as the movement knocked his tears loose.

The hug ended as quickly as it had begun, and Buddy pulled back to meet Juno’s gaze with a watery smile. “I am glad we are family, Juno. And I gratefully accept your gift, and will not speak of compensating you any further,” she said with a laugh.

“Well, I mean, if you want to give me a few extra creds for it, I’m not gonna complain,” Juno teased and laughed when Buddy smacked him upside the head lightly.

“Don’t ruin the beautiful moment, Juno,” she scolded, but the smile was still on her face as she stood up. “I will leave you two alone.”

It was that moment Juno realized Nureyev had entered the room at some point and was waiting patiently for them to finish their conversation. He smiled, a bit strained, at Buddy as she approached him and bowed slightly.

“Captain,” he greeted.

“Good morning, Pete,” she replied, pausing to pat his cheek before pulling him down to whisper something in his ear. Interestingly, Nureyev flushed deeply just before the captain stepped away and continued her exit. “You two, keep it clean in the common areas.”

“So,” Juno began, breaking the thick silence that descended after Buddy’s departure. “You gonna tell me what she said that got you so red?”

“No,” Nureyev said, turning even redder as he came around the couch to sit with Juno. “Not yet, at least.”

“Hmm, tempted to pull the whole ‘communication’ card with you,” Juno teased, sighing when Nureyev pulled him into a gentle embrace.

“It was merely a suggestion about the future,” Nureyev replied, stroking one hand up and down Juno’s torso. “You will know, someday.”

“Fine,” Juno said, too sleepy to argue further for answers and already allowing his eye to flutter shut. “Have it your way.”

“I shall, my beautiful lady,” Nureyev replied, his voice so tender it made Juno’s entire chest squeeze.

Everything felt good. Perhaps not perfect, but good. Right. He was in the arms of someone he cared deeply for, on a ship with a crew--no, a family he trusted with his life, and a home. An honest to God  home . Not like his apartment back in Hyperion City, not even the place he shared with Diamond or the apartment he grew up in with his mom and brother. Somehow, Juno had learned to feel safe and secure for the first time in many years, possibly the first time in his whole life.

He was safe, he was in Nureyev’s arms, and he was finally letting go of that last, jagged piece of his past. And, in spite of everything he had gone through, Juno was actually happy.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Dead of Night

AU-gust Day Fourteen: Vampire AU Fandom: Stargate Universe Pairing: Nicholas Rush x Gloria Rush

Rated: T

Content Warning: Blood, vampirism, cancer mention.

Summary: Nick reflects on his and Gloria’s lives since she became a vampire to save her life.

Note: This uses the vampire mythos from the short-lived TV series Moonlight.

The Dead of Night

Nick waited until the last vestiges of sunlight had vanished beyond the horizon before closing the curtains and switching on the lights. He wasn’t surprised at how quickly he had made the transition to nocturnal activity; he’d never been one for consistent sleep patterns at the best of times, and Gloria’s long illness had just exacerbated that. Now it simply made sense for him to be awake when she was awake.

He made the ten-step journey down into the cellar, listening to the comforting hum of the chest freezer. His breath curled into mist as he opened it, and he had to smile at the sight that met him. One would have expected vampires to sleep ramrod straight with their arms crossed over their chests like in classic Hammer horror movies, but Gloria was curled up in the foetal position with one arm flung over her face just like she’d slept when she was alive.

Nick shook himself. Gloria was alive. Not in the same way as previously, perhaps, but alive, nonetheless.

He reached into the freezer and stroked her arm where it was covering her face.

“The sun’s down, Glo. Time to get up.”

Gloria gave a catlike hiss, swiping at his hand, and when she sat up and opened her eyes, Nick could see the irises pale and silvery, pupils like pinpricks. Her mouth curled up in a snarl, fangs fully out, and Nick stumbled backwards, his heart pounding. Even though he knew that Gloria would never attack him consciously, there was always that undercurrent of fear when she first woke up thirsty, and Nick hated it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Her face was human again now and looking very guilty, although her eyes were still too pale, and her fangs were still pinching her bottom lip. “I’m just thirsty.”

Nick went over to the fridge in the corner and took out a blood bag – prime A-negative. He brought it over to Gloria as she got out of the freezer and shut the lid, perching on it beside her as she drank.

“You’re running low.”

Gloria nodded. “I know. I’ll have to go and see my man at the hospital tonight. Do you think anyone notices all the blood bags going missing?”

“Well, if they do, I don’t think that they would suspect vampires.”

Up until a few months ago, Nick himself would have disputed the existence of vampires. There were times even now when he wondered if his and Gloria’s current lifestyle was all the result of an exhausted fever dream, and he would wake up in the hospital by her bedside, nothing having changed.

They had almost accepted fate. They had almost accepted that Gloria wasn’t going to survive her second battle with cancer and that she was entering her last days; they had almost accepted that she wasn’t going to leave the hospital. Almost, but not quite. Although neither of them had said anything, they were both hoping for a last-minute miracle, some kind of reprieve that would reach them against all the odds and save them from oncoming heartbreak. Nick was a firm believer in science to the exclusion of all else; he had never been a spiritual man and he did not pray for deliverance as Gloria did, but that didn’t stop him from hoping for something, anything, however inexplicable it might be.

That inexplicable reprieve had come at three in the morning on a moonless night. Nick wasn’t asleep. The chair beside Gloria’s bed was too uncomfortable for sleep at the best of times, and for the past few nights he had been scared to close his eyes in case Gloria slipped away whilst he was asleep.

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” he had muttered in response to her gentle chastising that he needed rest. Gloria had snorted.

“No, you can sleep when I’m dead.” The gallows humour had been funnier than it had any right to be.

On that fateful night, Gloria wasn’t asleep either. The chemo had messed up her circadian rhythm so much that night and day were all much of a muchness to her, and she slept when she could and stayed awake when she couldn’t.

The lights were off, and they were just looking at each other in the gloom when the porter had come in.

“I know a way to make it better,” he had said. “But it comes at a price.”

The subsequent conversation had lasted almost till daybreak, whereupon the porter had returned to his home in the cold morgue drawers and Nick and Gloria had been left wondering if the discussion had really just happened, if vampires really did exist and if one had just offered to save Gloria’s life.

It had been a difficult decision to come to, and not one taken lightly. Ultimately they both wanted more time together, even if that time would be spent in an eternally nocturnal world.

The first week after Gloria’s turning had been the worst. She was constantly thirsty, and the house was far too warm for her; in the end she’d had Nick lock her in the cellar to stop her going for his own throat out of insane greed. Since then, though, they’d settled into a now-familiar routine, and everything was almost the way it was before – aside from their life being conducted entirely under the cover of darkness.

Well. Almost everything. Nick sipped his coffee, watching Gloria slip away into the night to get her fix from the hospital, the cool box swinging ominously by her side.

Gloria was alive, and more than that – provided she stayed within her limits, she would never die. She was locked in time now, but he, Nick was moving onward. He was still going to lose her to time eventually. Before, she had not had enough time. Now, she had far too much. Or he had far too little.

He was still staring out of the window when she came back, the cool box obviously heavier. They would have to move soon before their strange habits attracted too much attention, but they had already been through so much upheaval over the past few months that neither of them could stomach the thought of more just yet.

“Hey.” Gloria came into the kitchen having deposited the blood safely in her fridge. “Have you been sitting here the whole time. It’s not like you to get lost in thought. Although…” She came and sat beside him, taking his hand in her much colder one. “You have been in a world of your own a lot more lately. What’s wrong, Nick? What are you thinking about?”

Nick sighed, squeezing her hand. “Me, you, us. The logistics of our life now.”

“I know it’s not exactly what we planned…” Gloria tailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.

“I don’t regret it,” Nick said. “I’d rather have you alive like this than not alive at all. I’m just not sure that I thought through some of the implications at the time.”

“Like what?”

Their conversations on the topic had been fairly comprehensive, and Nick knew that they had discussed his current misgiving more than once. He just hadn’t paid it as much mind as he ought to have done.

He skirted Gloria’s question, looking her steadfastly in the eyes – now back to their usual colour, no trace of the eerily pale silver of her hunger.

“Glo, if I asked, would you turn me?”

Gloria looked at him for a long time, searching his face for something, although Nick did not know what she was looking for, nor whether she found it there.

“If that was what you truly wanted then yes, I would,” she said eventually. “I know where your train of thought is going, and don’t think that I don’t share it. Being gifted with so much time having had so little left, well, it alters your perception of it. I can’t get used to the inevitability of losing you now any more than you could get used to the inevitability of losing me before.”

Nick nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I keep trying to talk myself out of it. Hell, I keep thinking that this is all just a strange kind of wishful thinking on my part and I’ll wake up and you’ll be back in the hospital. But when it comes down to it, I don’t know what I have to lose.”

“You do,” Gloria pointed out. “We went over it at great length and in great detail with William before he turned me.”

“Exactly. I know all that. I’ve seen you change. I’ve lived through these last few months with you, and I still can’t think why I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of, well, forever with you.”

Gloria brought his hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” she whispered.

The routine continued for the next fortnight, a strange kind of Arabian Nights tale.

“Gloria, will you turn me?” “Ask me again tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

Her acquiescence was so sudden that Nick thought he had misheard her.

“You will?”

Gloria nodded. “I think you’ve stuck with the notion long enough to really want it. Are you ready?”

She brought his hand up to her lips again, this time hovering over the pulse point in his wrist. Nick could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he nodded.

The pain of her fangs sinking into his skin was sharp and blinding, like a lightning flash, and Nick gritted his teeth through it, squeezing his eyes tight shut. He felt warm wetness against his lips, and he knew that Gloria was offering her own blood to complete the transformation. Salty and metallic, he didn’t really notice the taste as he began to feel the change – veins stagnating, body cooling, the unquenchable hunger rising up…

“Nick, my love?”

He opened his eyes. In the darkness, suddenly everything seemed sharper. He was ridiculously thirsty, and he could feel the points of fangs, new and awkward, in his mouth. Gloria’s hands were warm in his for the first time in months.

“Hi, Glo.”

She smiled, and Nick smiled back. It might not be the best or easiest path they could have chosen, but they had each other, and they had forever, and that was enough.

[theolddarkmachine]

Dead Space - Good, Bad, I’m the Guy With the Gun

It starts the day the hero falls. Crashing in a blaze of glory of twisted metal and burning ozone, he leaves a scar on the Earth that changes everything.

And Keith sees it all.

Chapter 4 of 11

Tags: attempted Horror Elements, Zombies, Violence and Gore, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending i swear

Also on AO3

A/N: Fun fact- This chapter has one of my fave chapter titles in this fic lol 

********************************

The world spins violently, making Keith’s stomach pitch fiercely as his eyes shoot open. The only light is from a weak lamp clipped to a high window sill, leaving most of the room still shadowed. Sitting up slowly and swallowing down the sudden urge to upend the few contents in his stomach, he notes the bare walls and dingy tile of the floor, and the torn, ratty sleeping bag serving as a makeshift bed beneath him.

Shifting to get a better look at his surroundings, Keith feels the tight bite of rope at the flesh of his wrists, the sudden burn of it pulling his consciousness back to his present and the circumstance that had landed him here.

“Shiro,” Keith gasps, turning fully in search of the darkened corners. Eyes scanning across the room, his gaze stops on the thin frame of the man from the street. Sitting atop a plain, metallic chair, he keeps his eyes settled on Keith as his mouth twists into a smug grin.

A groan, loud and biting pushes from deep within Keith’s throat as he finally recognizes the man.

Lance McClain. Keith had never truly paid the younger cadet much mind when he was in the Garrison, but that had never seemed to change the competition between them that Lance had crafted in his own head.

While Keith had had his eyes set ahead to where Shiro had been, Lance had had his eyes set on him.

Leaning forward in his chair, Lance pushes his forearms into his thighs as he rolls the rifle between his palms, gaze not once leaving Keith.

The light from the windowsill traces Lance’s face with bright lines. His thin face looks thinner, his boyish looks lost to the test of time and the apocalypse, leaving his cheekbones sharp and his blue eyes marred by dark bags.

Even still, he looks smug enough for Keith to want to punch him in the face.

For old time’s sake.

“Hey, buddy,” Lance says, vestiges of his smarmy tone still clinging stubbornly to his voice as he speaks. Its cadence makes the dull, aching throb at the back of his head pulsate.

“Where’s Shiro?” Keith all but snarls, hands folding into fists as he flexes against the tight binding of the rope. It doesn’t budge, instead biting further into his skin in a way that he’s sure will leave the skin at his wrists torn and raw.

Not that that truly matters, Keith thinks as he shifts slightly, feeling the way his legs move freely.

It was their second mistake.

Their first having been knocking him out.

“No hello? No, wow Lance, I missed you, glad to see you didn’t become zombie chow?” Lance muses, leaning back and slapping a hand over his heart with a loud gasp of faux hurt. “That cuts me deep.”

Ignoring his quips, Keith repositions his legs carefully, moving as if he was just trying to get a bit more comfortable. The change leaves him bracing his weight on one foot with his thigh flush against his chest, with the other leg folded beneath him.

“At least if you were zombie food, you wouldn’t be giving me such a headache,” he bites out, glaring at his old acquaintance as his muscles tense.

“That would be courtesy of Hunk, not me,” Lance shrugs, leaning forward once more as he replaces his hand on his rifle. There’s a sparkle buried deep in his eyes as his hands tighten on the muzzle. It’s a challenge, silent and standing between them, filling the distance with a bright burning tension.

One breath became two, and starts to become a third when Keith launches himself forward, hands held awkwardly in front of him where they’re tied.

A look of shock dances across Lance’s features as Keith swats the rifle out from his grip before twisting to kick at his side, forcing him and his chair sideways. The grating clatter of metal against tile screams through the air as Keith falls on top of him, pushing the flush of his forearm into his throat as he leans in close.

“I won’t ask again. Where’s Shiro?” Keith growls, sneer nothing but teeth.

“Chill, man,” Lance chokes out as he struggles beneath him. He gets a hand fisted in the material of Keith’s shirt and another on his side when there’s a loud knock on the door, effectively freezing them both as the pair turn their gazes toward the offending sound.

“Hey, you good in there?” Another familiar voice calls through the wood, “Allura wanted to see us like, 10 minutes ago.”

Hunk, Keith’s brain supplies, as he remembers the timid engineering student who had seemed attached to Lance’s hip. The moment of pause gives Lance just enough to steady his hold and push Keith off of him. As he falls to the side, Lance quickly rolls in the opposite direction before coming back to a crouch, all the while coughing and rubbing at his throat.

“Yeah, buddy, all good here. Just go ahead without us, we’ll be there in a minute,” he calls out to his companion on the other side of the door as he glares at Keith.

Both men hold stock still as they wait, both relaxing slightly at the small sound of affirmation that makes its way into the room.

“If you’d just given me a minute, you’d know that I was going to take you to see him. Allura wants to see you both,” Lance hisses after hearing the sound of Hunk’s footsteps draw away from the door.

“Who the hell is Allura?” Keith spits, tone untrusting as he pushes himself up onto his feet. Taking several steps away from the brunette, he braces himself with the wall at his back, watchful gaze stuck on Lance.

“The person who is going to get us all out of this apocalyptic bullshit alive,” he remarks with a shrug, as if the sheer impossibility of the statement was simple fact. Giving Keith another hard look, he leans down to pick up his discarded rifle, brushing it off and cooing quietly to it before he uses it to gesture toward the door.

“We’re going to leave, but if you make a run for it, I can’t guarantee you won’t be shot down before you get to the exit.”

It lacks threat, said as nothing but yet another fact. Pausing to allow Keith the chance to say something, Lance shrugs at his silent obstinance.

“Not sure you’ll be much use to Shiro dead.”

It pushes a low grumble of acquiescence between his teeth as he watches Lance move toward the door. Pushing away from the wall, he stretches quickly to loosen his achey joints. Standing behind Lance, he watches over his shoulder as he opens the door.

Scraping along the flooring, the wood opens up into an empty hallway. It’s just barely cleaner than the room, though there’s grime that still clings to the corners where the floor meets the wall and a staleness that hangs in the air. Construction lights line the hallway every few feet, leaving stretches of darkness between the circles of illumination that they cast, leaving the space filled with a sort of eeriness that Keith couldn’t quite place.

There was no telling just how long the building had been abandoned, even before the end of the world.

“This way,” Lance says, motioning for Keith to follow as he turns to the left, not bothering to look back to make sure he follows. Not that he supposes he has much of a choice.

It’s a thought that sends a wave of annoyance pulsing through him in time with the aching throb at the back of his head.

Passing through the hall in tense silence, Keith lets his gaze wander over his surroundings, taking in the boarded windows and stretch of doorways covered with mismatched coverings and torn pieces of fabric.

As they move along, he hears the quiet mutterings of people inside.

It takes several minutes before Lance finally stops at the end of the hallway where two heavy metallic doors stand. Settling his hands over the rusting handles, Keith watches as he takes a breath. The depth of it raises his shoulders before they slow come back down around his exhale.

“I know we never quite got along, but give Allura a chance,” Lance says lowly, throwing a quick look back to him before pushing the doors wide.

Over his shoulder, Keith can see the long stretch of a room with several metal tables. Stepping through the threshold, he makes quick work of counting the tables, and taking in their stock.

Three along the back wall are littered with guns and ammunition. Two, one at the very center and one pushed to the front, support out of date monitors and even older computer towers. The final table that stands alone at the side of the room boasts a coffee machine and a random assortment of snacks.

Atop the table set at the center of the room, the monitors stand like a curved barrier around its occupant. It obscures all but the person’s mess of tawny hair above the top of the smallest monitor.

Beside the hidden stranger, a woman stands tall and lean, with darkly tanned skin, white hair twisted atop her head, and striking eyes.

She looks strong, her obvious authority rolling off of her, even as she offers the person to her side a small, secretive smile.

Even without introduction, Keith knows exactly who she must be.

Allura.

Her gaze finds him then, cutting into his chest, almost as if she could hear his very thoughts.

“Good, you’re finally here,” she says, voice strict and accented as she gestures for Lance to close the door. With a quick nod and a small sound in his throat, he shuts the doors, revealing two figures on the other side.

A rush of relief rolls through Keith as he sees that one of the figures is Shiro.

His silvered gaze finds him easily as Shiro offers him a small, reassuring smile. Offering a small nod in return, Keith traces his form quickly, noting how he stands tall, hands free and untied where they hang at his sides.

With another quick dip of his chin, Keith moves his attention toward the man beside him.

Hunk looks the same as he had at the Garrison, only harder, as if he was the visage of the boy he had once known but carved of hardened stone. It doesn’t diminish the slight smile that seems to still tug at the corner of his lips, however.

Silence rolls out through the room as Allura steps around the desk, stopping at the end closest to them. Settling her hip against the corner, she crosses her arms and makes a show of analyzing them both slowly.

Quick clicks punch through the deafening quiet as the person behind the monitors continues to type away.

“I’ve heard so much about you both,” Allura finally says, drawing her attention back up to capture Keith’s stare.

“Keith Kogane, rising star of the Galaxy Garrison. Relieved of your position after an assault on a superior officer. Specializations in hand-to-hand combat and flight,” she states, tone bored, as if she reading was his successes and failures off of a memorized checklist.

Aside from the woman herself, he’s certain no one there needed a reminder about his history, half of them having been there for a front seat view of it all. He feels his lips twitch into a sneer as she turns her attention away from him and toward Shiro.

“And Takashi Shirogane, the Garrison’s brightest. Youngest pilot to land the lead pilot position for a major space exploration. Originally pronounced dead after the failure of the mission.”

The way the words fall from her tongue sounds accusatory, even as she continues to stand there at perfect ease with her arms folded across her front and her eyes bright.

“Seems you know enough about us,” Shiro bites out, the snap of his voice turns his word brittle as he tenses under Allura’s scrutiny. “Anything we should know about you?”

There’s a hollow pause as the edges of Allura’s mouth turn upward into a smile. Sharp and bright, its equal parts welcoming as it is dangerous.

“I’m Allura,” she offers before opening her arms wide to gesture all around them, “and this is New Altea.”

Taking a brief moment to look between them both, she continues.

“It isn’t much, but I assure you, it is only a temporary solution.”

“New Altea?” Keith asks, pushing the foreign name through the wall of his indignation as he flexes against the rope. It earns him her attention once more as her gaze cuts back to him, the startling blue of her eyes catching the light like a blade.

“Our colony. When the city was destroyed, I tried to gather as many survivors as I could. Those here now may be the last of us,” Allura says low and matter-of-fact in the very same way as a doctor giving a terminal prognosis. The statement might have cut deeper if he wasn’t already armored by his own pragmatism.

Keith had given up on the rest of humanity the very same night Shiro had fallen from the sky.

“Why were you looking for us?” Shiro asks, cutting through the silent thread of electricity that had built between Keith and Allura. Both turning toward him, Keith doesn’t miss the way her moth turns into a wider smile.

“You knew,” is all she says, admiration apparent in the lightness of her tone. Shiro misses Keith’s questioning look as he keeps his stare resolute and forward on the woman before them.

“Your men weren’t always subtle,” Shiro shrugs, earning a small tinkling laugh.

“No,” Allura replies, voice filled with mirth as her gaze flicks quickly to the man at Keith’s shoulder. “That does seem to be a bit of a problem for them.”

“We’re still here, ‘llura,” Lance mumbles under his breath, shifting on his feet.

“So what do you want from us?” Shiro pushes, the question lighting Keith’s nerves as he watches the exchange between the two. Two behemoth forces coming together in battle, he isn’t sure any of them will make it out alive before Allura finally looks away. Moving away from the desk, Allura slowly walks toward the computer set at the very front of the room.

“I worked for the government, you know,” she starts, not looking back at them as she taps on the space bar, the monitor attached to it flickering to life. “I was never a part of the Garrison, but it was my duty to monitor them. A handler, of sorts. There was nothing they did that I did not know of.”

Fingers flying across the keyboard, file after file pulls up onto the screen.

“At least, that’s how it was supposed to be.”

From where he stands, Keith watches the brief flash of images across the screen. Some are too blurry to make out, some obvious shots of the open desert, others what looked to be microscopic shots of cellular structures.

One, in particular seems to freeze on the screen longer than others, leaving Keith staring into the depths of the very same photo of Shiro that the media had pasted alongside the announcement of the mission’s failure.

“I had begun noticing some strange notations in their ledgers. Ones that made sense when just fed through the system, but a little less so when combed through by human eyes.”

The image is quickly covered by another, and then another, and then another, each coming quicker than the last as Keith schools his breathing, eyes never leaving the screen.

“After some digging, I noticed that no matter how I followed those breadcrumbs, I always came back to you,” at this, she turns over her shoulder to fix her gaze on Shiro once more.

A hush of a sound, low and confused is his only reply as Keith recognizes the scene frozen on the monitor. A science lab, white and sterile, stands as a moment in time, its occupants stuck in varying degrees of movement around a table where a body lay.

Allura’s eyes never leave Shiro as she presses the space bar once more, bringing the scene to life.

Keith watches as the scientists start to shuffle around Shiro’s unmoving body, their hazmat suited forms marking sheets of paper and tapping at tablets. Holding his breath, he lets his lungs burn as he watches one of the forms stop mid step, muscles seemingly locking. It’s a harrowing moment, made more so with the silence of the video, as the scientist’s body twists sharply and unnaturally before crumpling to the ground.

Several seconds pass before any of the other figures seem to notice, the first making quick movement to get across the room, only to freeze and crumple in the exact same manner.

One by one, he watches them fall until none are left standing, their bodies littering the ground.

After several more seconds, another figure enters at the bottom of the frame, coming to a halt just beneath the camera and freezing as Allura taps the space bar once more.

A shudder tickles down the knobs of his spine as he looks at the fuzzy version of himself standing stuck in that moment of time when he had happened on the scene.

Electricity crackles and pops through the room as Allura straightens, rolling her shoulders back and adopting an air of authority once more as she turns back toward them. Her gaze is harder this time, chips of frozen cerulean.

“So, tell me Shiro,” she says, steely toned, “why didn’t you die in that tent?”

Burning unease rockets through Keith, his muscles coiling, ready for a fight.

“What are you trying to accuse him of?” He spits out, pushing himself quickly between Shiro and Allura to covet her stare. Holding it, he feels the quick burn of her apprehension on his skin as he pulls against the rope on his wrists, a deeper burning ache biting deeper in his skin with his futile motions.

A quick coughing sound breaks the moment, shattering it like glass as the person behind the monitors finally stands.

Nothing but wild, tawny hair, and large wired rimmed glasses, Keith feels his breath stall in his throat.

“Matt?” He hears himself whisper, trying to force his gaze away to look at Shiro. Almost as soon as the name drops from his mouth, his vision shifts and his mind catches onto the minute details that separate the person before them from his lost friend.

“Katie,” Shiro hushes, as she pushes her glasses further up her nose with a small smile.

“Hey Shiro,” she whispers, offering him a barely there smile before turning her gaze on Allura. Sharing a silent moment, Allura gives her a quick nod.

“You are both welcome to stay,” she says, almost begrudgingly to Keith before her attention moves behind him, landing on Shiro.

“But on the condition that you’ll let Pidge do some tests.”

The second passes like an eternity as the occupants of the room all seem to suck in a bated breath.

Finally, Shiro answers.

“Alright.”

***************************

[emma-frxst]

Blankets and Bonfires- Thor x Reader

Pairing- Endgame!Thor x reader

summary: Thor and Reader spend a few days in the countryside, fluff is inevitable.

a/n- here’s my first Thor fic!!! let me know your thoughts! I love endgame thor, he’s so chub and I'm in love. also I’m beyond ready for fall. Enjoy! thanks for reading!

-

The crisp autumn air filled your lungs along with the scent of pine wood and smoke from the bonfire Thor was working on building. 

Over these last long and treacherous 5-6 years, it was more than nice to have some quality down time with Thor. A few nights in the Norwegian countryside seemed to be the perfect thing. You loved nothing more than to lay back and gaze at the stars with him. Well maybe that and the hot, outdoor sex, but that’s not what you were going for right now.

You added the last of the logs onto the pile and looked over at thor to check his progress. And well..He’s the god of thunder and not fire for a reason.

“Honey, want me to give it a try?”

“Please.” He replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. 

You crouched down next to the smoldering pile of sticks, leave and etc. 

“I don’t know why it won’t start.” Thor started, “maybe the wood is wet or the matches are old or...” He trailed off seeing the fire ignite.

You stood up, facing him. 

“What was that you we’re saying?” you smirked

 “Nothing.” he returned your smirk with a cheeky smile.

“That’s what I thought.” You said, raising up on your tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek, his beard tickling your face. 

Thank God you convinced him to start putting beard oil on that thing cause god dang it got scratchy. You also convinced him to keep it in the braid, because let’s be honest that’s a damn good Look ™ 

As the evening turned into night, you and Thor found yourselves under many layers of blankets and pillows. The cold fall weather presenting the perfect opportunity for snuggling. 

You curled up into his side, draping your arm across his body, his soft belly pliable under your fingers. 

He wrapped his arm around you, his fingers traced sweet nothings onto your skin. 

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. 

There was a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire was the only noise. It was peaceful. 

“Mother would have loved you, y/n.” Thor says, still gazing at the sky. 

You figured that the stars reminded him of her.

“I would have loved to have met her, Thor. I bet she was lovely.”

A moment of silence passed. 

suddenly, a shooting star crossed the sky in front of you, seemingly a vestige from Queen Friga herself

“Thor look!” This time it was you who kept looking up at the sky, while Thor turned his gaze upon you. 

You could feel his eyes on you. You turned to him, a small smile gracing your features. 

You stared at each other for a moment, the flickering orange light from the fire illuminating your faces just enough to see.

His free hand came up to stroke your cheek, while he gazed into your eyes, seeing the whole universe in them. His whole universe.

Your lips connected in a tender, warm kiss and for a moment, all felt right in the world. 

-

tags: (tags are open, let me know if you want to be added, or only tagged for a certain character.) 

@chromecutie @xenomorphique @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine  @super-darkcloudstudent @thehuntress26 @siren-lamented-vampire @mooleche @rovvboat @nebulous-leo @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless

[pilyarquitect]

Getafix’s mistake - Chapter 2 - Totorum camp

Hello everyone! Here I bring you the second chapter of this Asterix fic, I truly hope you’ll all like it, also, I wanted to make a little fanart, but I haven’t time to finish it, I’ll try to finish it as soon as possible and share it with all of you. 😊

Well, I’d like to give a special thanks to @drummergirl231-2 for helping me editing this story. I’m really, really, really grateful to her, she’s awesome!

Okay after say all this, here you have the first chapter of this story, I hope you all will like it!

***********************************************

"By Jupiter, this is… unexpected." said the first legionary who had spoken before as he cautiously approached the body lying unconscious on the grass.

"I would say that more than unexpected it is… yeah, okay, the word is unexpected." said another of the six legionaries.

"What do we do?" another member asked.

"I don't know. This is new. Something like this has never happened to us before," another reasoned.

"Maybe this is some kind of trap and the fat Gaul is around here." suggested another.

"Don't be stupid! By Mars! Don't you think if the chubby Gaul were here, we would have already noticed?” The one who appeared to be the patrol leader spoke again.

"Right, we would have noticed," said another.

"Also, do you really think this Gaul would do anything to leave himself in this state of his own free will?" The leader spoke again.

"No, he wouldn’t. You’re absolutely right, Cleverus."

"So… what do we do with him?" asked another legionary, pointing to Asterix.

Cleverus seemed to consider it for a few moments. The fact that one of the most feared Gauls was there at their feet unconscious and with the appearance of a child, it almost seemed a a blessing from the gods, but taking him with them was also a great risk. If the other Gauls discovered it, they would certainly retaliate, and it was well known that Asterix was one of the most popular Gauls in the village. Surely it wouldn't be long before they noticed his absence. But, on the other hand, the fact he now had the appearance of a child made him practically unrecognizable. And furthermore, Cleverous doubted the Gauls would believe them if they were to explain it to them, supposing they got the opportunity to explain themselves.

"Tie him up and we’ll take him to Totorum camp." he finally decided.

The other legionaries carried out the orders and immediately tied Asterix. Given his current size, it only took one of the legionaries to carry him. Actually, with his actual adult size, a single man could carry him too, but that wasn’t relevant at that time. The legionary who picked up little Asterix couldn’t help thinking that, despite being one of his enemies, as a child, he was pretty cute.

They also collected the helmet, the belt, the canteen and all the other Gaul’s belongings to avoid leaving traces of what had happened in that space in the forest.

******************************************************

Obelix paced with Dogmatix – his beloved pet – from one side to the other of the entrance to Asterix's cabin. His best friend hadn’t yet returned from the forest. He knew well Asterix was intelligent and could manage on his own. Obelix was aware of this, but that didn’t stop him from being worried for his friend. He wished he were already in the village.

To be honest, it was strange that he hadn’t returned yet; all the other times Obelix had had to distribute menhirs and couldn’t accompany Asterix to the forest, the shorter Gaul, by this time, had already gotten the boars ready for them to eat. No, Asterix not being at home wasn’t normal.

As he walked, Vitalstatistix approached with his bearers and when he saw the menhir dealer’s face, he stopped his men and spoke to the great Gaul:

"Obelix, is something wrong?"

"Huh? Not at all, chief. It's just that Asterix hasn’t yet returned from the forest.”

"Oh, that’s weird, by Tutatis… but surely it is nothing important, Obelix. You’ll see Asterix return soon."

"Yes, chief," Obélix replied, lowering his head. Although he wanted to believe what Vitalstatistix was saying to him, it was difficult. Asterix had never, ever, been so late just after hunting some wild boars… especially knowing that his friend liked them so much.

"By Belenos, Asterix… I hope you are well." Obelix thought.

Fulliautomatix passed by at that moment, and seeing Obelix, also stopped somewhat intrigued to ask the reason for his state. In response, the menhir dealer replied with the same thing he had said to Vitalstatistix.

The blacksmith didn’t know exactly what to answer. It was certainly unusual that Asterix hadn’t returned yet, but he also didn’t want the great Gaul to worry more than necessary. After all, he and Asterix had always been inseparable, and any thoughts that something could happen to the blond warrior could completely destroy Obelix.

Forcing a smile, Fulliatomatix said to his friend:

"I don't think you have to worry about him, Obelix. Asterix is surely enjoying the pure air of the forest for a while rather than putting up with the contaminated air from the rotten fish of Unhygienix.”

"What did you just say about my fish?" asked an angry Unhygienix who was just passing by right then.

Fulliautomatix was surprised to hear the voice of the fishmonger, but on the other hand he was slightly pleased to see that his appearance had provided vestiges of what looked like a smile on Obelix's lips. If a discussion between the two men could cheer up the great Gaul a little, Fulliautomatix decided to go ahead with it.

"What you heard! Today your fish are particularly putrid." he said to his friend, standing up to him and speaking smugly.

"Oh yeah? That's what you think?" Unhygienix asked as his face began to redden like a tomato.

"As you’ve heard. That's what I think. And I'm sure I'm not mistaken."

"You’ll regret this!"

After saying this, Unhygienix pounced on the blacksmith and began a fight that gradually gathered more villagers. Obelix watched them from a distance. He knew that Fulliautomatix had done it on purpose in an attempt to cheer him up. It had partly worked, but the menhir dealer wouldn’t be calm until Asterix was at his side again, as always.

Tired of standing, Obelix sat down on the bench next to the front door. Dogmatix sat next to him and rested his small head on his master's large shoe. He also wanted Asterix to return. His ears hung languidly on both sides of his head, indicating that the little dog was saddened by the absence of the blond Gaul.

Getafix, after his talk with Asterix, had also gone to the forest, much later than his friend did… but despite the fact he didn’t have to go deep into the grove, it took him a long time to search and find everything he needed. He gathered up all the ingredients he thought might be running out and headed back to the village with a wide smile on his face.

When he arrived, he headed towards his cabin. The path that led to it passed in front of Asterix's cabin. As soon as the druid passed through that place, he found Obelix sitting in the doorway with his head resting in his huge hands and a worried look on his face.

Intrigued by the posture of the great menhir dealer, Getafix decided to investigate to discover the reason for his unusual attitude.

"Obelix, by Belenos, can you tell what this face is about? Is it just that you're still hungry?"

"Oh druid, of course I'm hungry, but that's because I haven't had breakfast, nor lunch yet."

"Haven’t you had breakfast? But Asterix had told me that you would eat together! Did you have a fight?”

"By Tutatis! No, it isn’t that, oh druid. What’s happening is that Asterix hasn’t returned yet.”

"W-what did you just say?" Getafix's voice took on a tone of alarm. The little warrior had left the village long before him. It was very strange that at this time he hadn’t yet returned.

"Obelix, are you completely sure that he hasn’t returned?"

"Of course. As we had agreed, after distributing the menhirs that had been entrusted to me, I came here… up until today, whenever we have done this, Asterix already had the boars ready to eat. But today it hasn’t been like that. His cabin is empty. By Belenos! Getafix, where can he be?”

Getafix remained thoughtful, stroking his long beard. He also began to fear that something had happened to the blond Gaul. He couldn't understand what might have happened. Asterix was very good in the woods, and he wasn’t the kind of person to make loved ones suffer, either. This was strange… very, very strange.

"Getafix…" Obelix spoke in a weak voice "do you think… do you think something could have happened to him?" panic was easily detectable in his voice

Getafix looked at Obelix with a look of sadness, and with absolute sincerity replied:

"I don't know Obelix, I really don't know."

******************************************************

"Ave Centurion! The patrol has returned, and they are bringing a prisoner with them." said the sentry who had been sent to inform his superior of the arrival of the patrol.

Centurion Caius Marsupialus was sitting in his chair reading a letter that had just arrived announcing that a Caesar’s senator was coming to Armorica to visit and check the status of each of the camps that surrounded the village of the indomitable Gauls that caused so much shame and pain to the Empire. When the sentry named Sharpeyesightus entered, Caius Marsupialus looked up from the document and listened carefully to what the newcomer was saying.

"Ave Sharpeyesightus, what did you say? My men bring a prisoner? What kind of prisoner?” He asked, interested in the news.

"I don't know Centurion, but it seemed to me that he was a Gaul boy." replied the sentry.

"By Jupiter! Are you kidding me?!”

"N-no Centurion, I’d never dare." answered the lower one trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Centurion Caius Marsupialus took a deep breath and spoke again when he had calmed down a bit:

"Okay Sharpeyesightus, tell the patrolmen that I'll be out soon."

"At your service. Ave Centurion.” Sharpeyesightus said, withdrawing from his superior's tent.

"Ave, ave… " replied the centurion, and then said to himself:

"By Saturn, I’m surrounded by the inept… unable to fight the Gauls… and on top of that, they only manage to capture a child? This is shameful. I'll have to send them to the circus, by Vulcano! How can I have such incompetent legionaries? And all this when the visit of one of the most powerful men in Rome is imminent… I’m so unlucky right now!”

Caius Marsupialus put on his armor and his cape, and taking his helmet, he went out to meet the newly arrived patrol.

While leaving his tent, Caius Marsupialus found the legionaries standing there. Unlike other times, this time it seemed they hadn’t been attacked by the Gauls. In fact, they seemed completely intact. The expedition leader stepped forward and raising his arm, saluting his superior:

"Ave Centurion, we have to report-"

"I want to see the prisoner." his superior cut him off, with a tone of voice that indicated he didn’t want his patience to be tested.

"... The p-prisoner ..." Cleverus began to stammer.

“I have been told that you have made a prisoner. Where is he? I want to see him!"

The patrol members looked at each other and then pulled away, exposing the legionary holding an unconscious boy. The boy seemed to be around three years old. Although it was difficult to specify, as the Gauls vary quite a bit in size among them. He also had blond hair, a little tousled on the back of his head. The boy also had a large nose, a common attribute among all Gauls apparently. But the strangest thing about this child was that he was dressed in clothes clearly too big for him. He was wearing a black tank top that covered his entire body, but Caius Marsupialus noticed that under the shirt the boy was wearing red pants. Maybe his parents like those clothes, or maybe the boy admires that short Gaul from the indomitables’ village, thought the Centurion. In short, that boy looked like a miniature copy, without a mustache, of the village’s warrior, but Caius Marsupialus knew that this was impossible.

"So, it was true," said Caius Marsupialus irritated. "You’ve taken a Gaul child prisoner!"

"Centurion, it’s not –"

"THIS IS SHAMEFUL! WHAT WOULD CAESAR SAY IF HE SAW YOU?! YOU ARE THE SHAME OF THE LEGION!”

"But Centurion, this child –"

"What? Will you tell me that it took you a lot to capture him?”

"No Centurion, it’s not that –"

"Then what?! How dare you try to justify yourself?!”

Then Caius Marsupialus noticed the little boy had his hands tied behind his back. This infuriated him even more. This boy was too young to be considered a threat, so why had his men tied him up? It defied all logic.

"By Mercury! Have you tied the boy?! Do you consider him a threat?!”

"Now that you mention it –" Cleverus started to say, but was again interrupted by the Centurion.

"THIS IS TOO MUCH, IT'S JUST A CHILD!" he raged, anger radiating uncontrollably throughout his being.

Cleverus had already lost his patience. He was tired of trying to explain what happened just because his superior didn’t let him do it, so in a sudden outburst he shouted:

"THIS CHILD IS ASTERIX!"

***********************************************

Well, and here you have the second chapter ends the first chapter. What do you think about it? Let me know your thoughts. Do you think the Roman centurion will trust his legionnaires? And about Obelix and Getafix, will they or any of the Gauls even imagine what had happened to him? How do you think they’ll react discovering what happened to Asterix? Please tell me what are your thoughts about it 😊

Okay, after say that, I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I also would like to thank to all the people who’d read this story and: @elianemariane17 @theholypencil for their likes

See you in the next chapter 😉 

[daedricprincessorigin]

I have been encouraged to rewrite my Razum-dar x vestige fic from Raz's perspective. And so I do. Blame the goblin hoblin server.

Raz walked along the beach in the aftermath of the hurricane, checking each body he came across. He had yet to find one with a heartbeat or a single breath left in their body.

A blue flash in the sky. Razum-dar whirled around to look out over the ocean. Something fell out of the sky, landing in the shallow water with a splash. The Khajiit waited for it to wash to shore.

He found it a few feet away and a few minutes later. Or rather, he found *her*.

Razum-dar rolled the unconscious woman onto her back in the sand, relieved as he felt a pulse in her wrist and her neck. He sat back on his knees to get a proper look at her, as well as he could with only the stars and the two moons in the sky.

She was a khajiit, like him, but where his fur was the smooth tan of a lions pelt hers was the striped black and brown of a tiger. Her hair was long, dark brown strands in thicks dreads down her back with colorful stones braided in.

Raz carefully lifted her up in his arms, grunting to himself under his breath with the effort. She may have been a bit shorter than him, but she was well-muscled and armored.

Razum-dar carried her back to the makeshift camp the survivors of the hurricane had put together, and gently set the woman down on a bedroll in a ruined tower, food, water and a lamp beside her sleeping form.

In the morning, he stood a ways away from the tower, by a crumbling wall, waiting. When the woman finally came out, he called out to her.

"Good, you're awake now. This one is Razum-dar. You have him to thank for fishing you out of the ocean." He said. "Now tell this one, how is it that you came to be dropped into the sea in a flash of blue light during a hurricane?"

The woman locked eyes with him. "Ra'jaheeri was trapped in Coldharbor. She escaped through a portal."

Raz's eyebrows raised. "And is that what you will say to the others?"

Her eyes were greener than the leaves of Valenwood or the finest emeralds of Alinor, he thought as she glanced around. Ra'jaheeri looked back at him.

"That this one was a marine, caught by a wave in the hurricane, and separated from her crew and command."

Raz let out the breath he didn't know he was holding in a short laugh. "Good! You lie with confidence, a gleam in your eye! Come my new friend, why don't we see what we can do for each other, hmm?"

And he was gone.

Raz did not fall in love often. He was skilled at feigning it, flirting with contacts and whoever might be willing to give up the information he needed for a night of pleasure. But this was real. And it nearly scared him.

At first, Raz thought it was a mere infatuation that would pass soon enough. But events conspired to keep Ra'jaheeri in his path, working alongside him even. But everything she did just made the feelings stronger.

She was beautiful, yes, but it was so much more than that. That she knew who to trust, and who to watch for. That she could fight as well as the finest agents of the Thalmor, her twin blades flashing and whirling like sand-glass in the wind. That she was intelligent, and could figure out codes as fast as Raz could. She was witty too, bantering back at his jokes and flirting that he hoped to Kenarthi passed as teasing.

Eventually Ayrenn found him muttering to himself and pacing in an abandoned hallway late at night, and pulled him inside a study to talk.

"Raz, what's wrong? I've never seen you this agitated? I thought the threat was over, you and Ra'jaheeri stopped them."

Raz sighed, dropping into a chair. "No, no threat. Unless Raz could be considered one. To himself or to her, this one is not sure."

The Queen's pale eyebrows shot up, and she smirked. "Raz, my old friend..... do tell. Who is this 'she'?"

Razum-dar sighed. "She is beautiful. Capable. Smart. And probably only thinks of this one as a friend."

Ayrenn leaned up against a desk. "Do I know this woman?"

"Yes."

"Hmmmm." She tapped her lip with a finger, and grinned. "Is it Ra'jaheeri?"

His head shot up to stare at her. "How-" he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is Razum-dar that obvious?"

Ayrenn laughed. "Oh, probably just to me. It's adorable, really."

Raz stood back up to glare at her properly. "And you just let him flouder?" His stance shifted to something more playful. "Your best friend in all of Tamriel, and you watched him struggle with something you can see plain as day?"

Ayrenn shrugged. "You are *my* Eye, after all. You are supposed to see what I cannot."

Raz scoffed and rolled his eyes. Then he sighed again. "What is this one supposed to do? He can't just..... flirt with her like he does everyone else. How does he show her that he ....... he cares without seeming like he only gave her the opportunities because he thought she was pretty?"

Ayrenn shook her head slowly. "This is not really my affair, Raz. You are both my Eyes but that does not mean I have the right or ability to play matchmaker between the two of you. It is her choice. Do your best. Be honest. Come now, you've been hailed as one of the most charming men in the world, if you want her how could she say no?"

Razum-dar ran his hands through his short mohawk. "That is what this one is afraid of. That his heart will be broken because she thinks she can't say no."

They didn't speak about that conversation for a long time. Raz went about his business as usual. Stopping threats to Ayrenn and the Dominion, gathering intelligence, the like. The next time he met with Ra'jaheeri was in Reapers March.

He hadn't been avoiding her. Truly. Probably. Maybe. Okay Razum-dar had been avoiding her a bit. He was worried that the next time he saw her it would all come spilling out and she would stop trusting him.

He wasn't *exactly* suprised that she was chosen by the First Mane. He knew she was destined for great things. He just didn't know which.

Razum-dar was there as a witness, along with Ayrenn and the new Silvenar and Green Lady to see the ascension of the new Mane. He didn't see much of what was happening, and that made him nervous. Sitting there in a temple, watching Ra'jaheeri occasionally appear and then flit through another door just as soon as he could blink? That didn't exactly sooth him. He hated not knowing all of what was going on.

After what seemed like an eternity since the last part of the ceremony, a portal opened and she and the new Mane stepped out. Raz nearly sighed in relief, but then he saw Ra'jaheeri's face.

She barely looked at anyone else, just dropped her swords to the ground and nearly ran up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a deathgrip and pressing her forhead into his chest.

*Oh. Please? Please let this be what Raz hopes it is, Bright Moons and Dark Moons please.* He thought.

He guided her out of the ceremony hall full of watching eyes to give her some dignity.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?" He asked, trying to sound calm and reassuring while hoping she couldn't feel how fast his heart was pounding.

"This one loves you. And it took watching you die for her to be brave enough to admit it."

Raz gently guided her down to the floor, sitting right next to her. "You were scared of something so little as that?"

*Wait that came out wrong. Ohhh, Raz really hopes she doesn't think that means he thinks her feelings are insignificant.*

But Ra'jaheeri snorted through her sniffles. "Nothing relating to you is ever small, Raz."

Raz smirked. "Is *that* what made you fell for him, hmm?"

She smacked him on the shoulder, but laughed anyway. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, anyway.

"This one also loves you." Raz said in a near-whisper.

Ra'jaheeri stared at him. "What?"

"From the moment we met." He realized out loud. "This one rescued a beautiful woman and she knows who to trust, who to lie to, and how to lie perfectly? And then it just got worse." He started tracing the tiles on the ground with a claw, his other arm still resting on her shoulders.

"But... why? You could have anyone in Tamriel. You could charm the two moons themselves down to dance for you, and you'd be able to rob them blind as they twirled." She wiped at her face.

Raz smiled. "Were you not just listening? You are right, Raz could have anyone in Tamriel, but he wants the woman who is strong enough to survive Coldharbor, dying countless times, the subterfuge of Altmer court, and still be gentle enough to cry." He lifted a paw to her face and stroked her cheek with a thumb.

Ra'jaheeri looked down. "This one is missing her soul. That is how she can die and come back so many times." She looked back up at him.

Razum-dar frowned. "You do not seem very soulless."

She looked back up at him. "This one is sorry for not telling you."

He shrugged. "The loss of a soul is not exactly something one goes about telling people."

"You don't hate her for being soulless?"

"Raz would be hard-pressed to think of something you could do to make him hate you. And he can think of lots of crazy situations, being a spy and all."

She smiled and leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Raz wrapped his other arm around her and held her closer.

The door opened, and Ayrenn stepped through with a grin. "Well. It certainly took the two of you long enough!" She said.

"You knew this whole time?!" Ra'jaheeri asked.

The queen laughed. "How could my Eyes be so blind?"

She left, closing the door behind her, and leaving the two of them to themselves.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 202: Rival Break and the 3rd Set

Previously on BnHA: Momo made a giant cannon and used it to fire a bag of emergency supplies over the onomatopoeia wall back to her pals. The bag contained some fungicide which Tokoyami and Hagakure doused themselves with to ward off Toadette’s horrific quirk. It also contained a pair of night vision goggles which Toko used to track down Toadette and Kuroiro. For a moment it looked like he had them both contained, but then Toadette sprouted some mushrooms in Toko’s fucking windpipe, cutting off his air supply and causing him to release them. Meanwhile Kendou showed up to rescue Manga from Hagakure’s flurry of invisible attacks. She’d managed to knock Momo out, but not before Momo sprouted a bunch of steel cables from her left side to tie Kendou up and attach herself to her while she herself was still attached to the giant cannon. So basically she slowed her way down, and tbh they would have had this if Hagakure and Tokoyami (and Aoyama, who got captured before any of them) hadn’t dropped the ball. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. But anyway, so the round went to B Team, and now the classes are tied and we’re about to move into the third round.

Today on BnHA: Since Momo and Kendou’s teams absolutely trashed the battlefield, Aizawa and Vlad announce a short break before the start of round 3. All Might takes Deku aside and asks him if things are all right with his quirk. Deku says he’s fine, only to be interrupted by Kacchan who’s all THE FUCK ARE Y’ALL DOING HAVING THIS WEIRD CONVERSATION SO CONSPICUOUSLY and he makes them fill him in. Kacchan’s response to the whole OFA situation is to basically egg Deku on to become stronger already, and it fucking works is the thing, so y’all know this one-page conversation is easily the most “!!!!” I’ve been about this series in fucking ages omg. But anyways, so then round 3 starts up with Team TetsuPonyHoneSen VS Team TodoIidaShoujiRo. Shouto briefly thinks back to when he was like six fucking years old and Endeavor was trying to teach him a new fire technique by being an abusive dick. Shockingly this method didn’t pan out, but Shouto’s been thinking about it again recently since watching his dad battle the Noumu at Fukuoka. Meanwhile Iida is hyped to win since he’s representing his brother as the successor to the Ingenium name. And Tetsu is also hyped because he’s always fucking hyped! So basically everyone is getting ready to do their best and this should be good!

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 223, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

oh wow Toadette is actually offering Tokoyami a throat lozenge like I was joking about earlier. haha. only the reason it was a joke on my part is because I thought it was fairly obvious that a fucking lozenge wasn’t exactly going to do much to help after you sprouted fucking mushrooms all along the inside of his goddamn windpipe! these kids are fucking savages I swear to god. they’re out for blood

anyways he’s still coughing and hacking and she’s telling him to go see Recovery Girl before this turns into one of those hanahaki fics

meanwhile Momo also appears to be ill after using her quirk as much as she did, and she’s shaking and doesn’t seem to be able to stand, so two sarcastic asshole robots are wheeling her off to RG as well

yeah I’m gonna need you two to shut up. were they specifically programmed to be douches? this is someone’s idea of a joke isn’t it

anyways I hope my girl Momo is gonna be okay. Kendou go with her please!

Shinsou’s all “wow everyone got really fucked up” and Aizawa’s just like “yeah that’s just how it goes with hero training” as though this is in any way acceptable lol. well I guess it’s been a little while since U.A. did anything outrageously irresponsible though, so maybe we can cut them some slack this time around. plus ultra?

(ETA: nope I take it back. within three chapters all four teachers will be idly standing by shrugging their shoulders and hoping none of the kids fucking burn to death by accident. lesson learned, never ever cut the U.A. faculty any slack whatsoever.)

btw I almost forgot to mention it but it’s super cute that Shinsou is hanging out next to Aizawa. they have clearly built up some kind of bond by this point, and as usual I’m delighted by any and all instances of Aizawa being a dad

looool

did I mention that Manga’s quirk is seriously unbelievably strong though?? is there an onomatopoeia for “All for One-destroying weapon” that I don’t know about that he could speak into existence perhaps? hmm?

also smh at these teachers being more concerned with the property damage than with the attempted murder. Tokoyami’s fine by the way. but sure let’s scold them for doing some mild damage to your industrial training site which you specifically created for this very purpose

so apparently they’re going to change the stage? or “move the stage” at any rate? does this mean they’re cleaning up the training ground, or are they moving to one of the other areas? I’m not quite clear here

but at any rate, Vlad says they’re going to take a short break which I’m all for because it means more chances for the kids to interact!

look at them interacting!!

so I’m just going to assume the two speech bubbles on the right are Kirishima and Tetsutetsu, yes?

also, Manga, I’m gonna need you to stop whining about how your ultra-powerful and crazy broken quirk gives you a sore throat. fuck outta here with that nonsense son. I assume the only reason no one gave OFA to you is because the series would already be over

Deku is happily taking notes on everyone’s growth while Ochako watches, and it’s super fucking cute. I am shipping this more these days now that she’s not losing her damn mind any time she thinks about him and he’s not on the verge of passing out whenever she gets within two feet of him

and now All Might’s coming to say hi to his apprentice!

are y’all gonna talk some more about the Avatar State. because if you are then I’m the one who’s gonna start taking notes omg

so he’s beckoning Deku over so they can have a quick private chat in the corner

Mina’s all “well aren’t they close~” and I know she’s just making a mild observation, but once again I’m reminded of how these two are just the absolute worst at hiding their secret. like for real though

so All Might’s asking Deku if anything has felt off since their last conversation

and Deku says “nothing in particular”, which is a bit of a curious answer since he could have just gone with a straight “no”

All Might says he’s planning to ask Gran whether or not Shimura ever mentioned anything. I doubt it though, otherwise you’d think he’d have brought it up before now. not everyone is as cagey as you when it comes to passing on vital information

anyways, he says for the time being Deku should take care since he’ll be facing off with Shinsou

and interestingly, he says Shinsou is a piece of the puzzle as far as the Vestiges/Traces are concerned

really? I mean it’s true that Deku first saw them during his initial fight with Shinsou, and now he just so happens to be fighting Shinsou again on the same day that he had that crazy dream. but is that not just a coincidence? how could Shinsou actually be involved with this?

OH MY GOD

(ETA: speaking of onomatopoeia, Kacchan has his very own complete with exclamation point lol. what happens if Manga uses this. do the letters explode)

KEEP KACCHAN IN THE LOOP 2K19!!!! OH MY GOD YES PLEASE THANK YOU MANGA GODS

holy shit I was wondering if he was gonna get annoyed since he could hardly fail to notice them sneaking off to chat while he was right fucking there

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OH MY GOD YOU GUYSSSSSS

IT DID!!!! AND NOW THEY’RE FINALLY GONNA TELL HIM WHEEEEE

oh my god. Kacchan/Deku rivalry. it has been so fucking long you guys. it’s been 80 fucking chapters!!

things I love:

DON’T KEEP ANY MORE SECRETS FROM KACCHAN ABOUT ONE FOR ALL, HE OFFICIALLY GETS ANNOYED ABOUT IT. HE WANTS TO KNOW SO MAKE SURE YOU KEEP HIM POSTED

for reals though, he’s making sure they remember that he’s part of the OFA squad now. that wasn’t just a one-time thing, he wants to actively be involved. I don’t know if they actually realized this before, but now they’re aware so I hope Deku tells him the next time without having to be asked

also him yelling at them to be more fucking secretive for christ’s sake lol. RIGHT?

and him immediately getting competitive and reminding Deku of what his goals are. they always do this with each other, and it’s honestly so important. the shounen rival relationship is, at its core, one of constant growth. if done right, the two rivals will each be the one person who can always unfailingly push the other when they think they can’t go any further, and nudge the other back on track whenever they start to go astray. and that is so, so important, and it’s especially important for them to keep establishing this relationship now, when for once things are actually calm and there aren’t any villain plots or other angsty things going down for the time being. because this quiet period is not going to last. and there will come a time when Izuku will need this type of push again, when the fate of the world might even depend on it. they help each other to focus and they keep each other grounded, and this shit right here is why it’s my favorite relationship, and I can’t say enough good things about it

lastly, this is fairly subtle, but you can see that this is Katsuki’s way of reassuring him. like, he realized Izuku was... not unsettled, exactly, but certainly confused and still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. so he immediately sets onto distracting him. and I’ve gotten completely distracted by my own excited ramblings and I haven’t even finished the damn conversation yet, but I bet you anything that it worked, too. because that’s the power of rivals, dammit

yeppppp

I fucking love it you guys. every damn time. this is what keeps sucking me back in. this is why I’m reading. give me some good old fashioned shounen rivals showing their concern for one another in the most indirect way possible and it fucking works

PREACH IT ALL MIGHT!

NO, HE DEFINITELY IS. THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I’M SAYING. SEE, ALL MIGHT GETS IT

like, I don’t really have much more to add other than what I already said, lol. although I will say I’m fairly sure that not only is he not actually pissed off, but he’s actually relieved that Deku did smile, and it was the exact effect he was going for, which is why he called attention to it before immediately trying to play it off like h was mad

anyway, so that was everything to me you guys, but the show must go on, and we are now all set to begin round 3! and it looks like we will be staying in Ground Gamma and that they’ve just relocated to a different part of the stage, or something. idk

so Sen is the only guy in this round who we haven’t already met, although I don’t think we actually know Pony’s quirk. Honenuki’s quirk is of course the quicksand quirk of cavalry battle fame, and I’m looking forward to seeing that in action again

meanwhile they’re up against these legends!

once again I can’t for the life of me figure out how they can possibly screw this up. but we know they will somehow! guess they’ll just have to get creative

and now a quick flashback of Tokoyami, who you can tell is feeling better because he’s coming up to Todoroki and just rambling on and on for no real reason

no you don’t you boob. calm the fuck down man. go eat some ice cream and lie down

well what have we here

friendly reminder that I ship these two. by this point I think I ship Todoroki with almost as many people as Bakugou and I’m not quite sure how that happened. this boy is more social than I give him credit for

so now Shouto’s thinking back to his dad’s battle against High N’ Tight Noumu

and what’s this?

the prominence burn thing? or the flying thing? I personally think he ought to learn the flying thing first

and now some flashbacks to Endeavor being abusive

jesus christ. please tell me Shouto is smoking from his own quirk. please tell me you didn’t actually set your child on fire you utter trashpile of a man

and what the hell is with the shinai? because the fire wasn’t fucking enough??

props to Horikoshi though for showing this. it’s not pleasant to see, but the fact that he doesn’t shy away from it even after starting Endeavor’s redemption arc is really important. none of his past deeds have been erased. he’s not pretending it didn’t happen or that it’s okay now because things are finally starting to get better. it’s such a fucking mess, and I really, really appreciate that we’re being confronted with it even now and nothing is being swept under any proverbial rugs

correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel like this is pretty rare for redemption arcs, both in Eastern and Western media. usually once the former bad guy starts down the right path, the story stops addressing those past sins, presumably in the hope that audiences will eventually forget about them. but not only is Horikoshi not doing that, he’s actively showing us the bad shit again in vivid detail, the resulting effect being something like “hey, just in case you forgot...”

anyway, so here’s more confirmation that Todoroki Touya is in fact Dabi

just fucking confirm it already you cowards. it’s not like you’re trying to hide it; you purposely alluded to it so overtly at the end of the Endeavorhawks arc that no one could possibly fail to miss it. so I really don’t know why you’re playing games with it at this juncture. he must have some sort of plan here but idk

anyway, he says that Shouto is the one, and that he can pass this technique on to him and only him

I wonder if Touya accidentally immolated himself with a failed prominence burn. god I want to know what happened so bad uggghhhh

ahhhhhhh

they’re so cute omg

Ojiro says he had no idea anything was wrong because Todoroki’s expression “never really changes that much”, and he’s impressed Iida could tell

it’s because they’re lovers, Ojiro! but not really, but do you agree with me that they should be? because if not then I really don’t know why you’re wasting my time here tail boy

Iida’s all “but of course!” and says he’s the class president and is always there to lend a hand to a classmate in need. and sure. but also, lovers

AHHHHHH

SUDDEN TENSEI MENTION MY HEART WASN’T READYYYY

(ETA: his face is so cute here too oh my god. fucking adorable.)

so now he’s putting on his helmet, and he says he’s also representing Ingenium’s good name

is this in reference to what Tokoyami said earlier about him and Todo representing the #1 and #2 heroes? did your feelings get hurt bud lol

and he’s reminding everyone that he placed third in the sports festival, “so allow me to show you all!”

damn, somebody sure is fired up

you better watch it son, this enthused 40-year-old nerd is stealing your boyfriend before our very eyes

now we’re cutting to class B!

and Tetsutetsu is also all fired up!

no one thinks you’re dumb, Tetsu! just passionate!

lol but he is acknowledging that this is one of the less strategically balanced class B teams

but he has a plan to address that!

kick some ass!!

yessssssss

and stfu Sen. he has exactly one specialty so of course he’s gonna lean into it. nothing wrong with that

now I’m honestly starting to wonder how he would fare against Todoroki. he might be the only one who could actually stand up to the Prominence Burn attack if it turns out Shouto does have it

...or he might melt. but surely Shouto wouldn’t actually fire a potentially lethal blow during a training exercise... right?

(ETA: ...)

so now Vlad is grumbling about how THEY JUST SAID not to destroy the whole fucking stage, and here Tetsu is, destroying the stage

nice hero name! but it definitely is a misspelling! I’m sure it’ll be corrected at some point later on though

lol this group is something else

this is definitely my favorite class B team to date lol. and Honenuki’s personality is in such stark contrast to his somewhat terrifying appearance, who knew

also props to my boy Sen for having the appropriate reaction to being pitted against Todoroki freaking Shouto. though you could have had it worse, bud! it could have been Bakugou or Deku. at least you guys are somehow going to win which I still can’t get over

lol because it’s literally their only choice given the makeup of their team

well, bring it on!

[bloodofthepen]

So... after finishing Dishonored 2 just recently--and then Death of the Outsider-- I got back into the lore and started reading a lot of really amazing fics and wouldn’t you know it........ I really wanted to try my hand at writing a little. So I did. And I like it. I don’t know exactly where it’s going to go, but I wanted to try something a little on the shorter side before committing to something longer (i.e. exploring what would’ve happened in DH2 if Emily and Corvo had been together the whole time, which is what I thought was going to happen for some reason, based on the trailer I’d seen). Anyway, this feels like a nice prelude to... something. We’ll see what happens.

TL;DR I started a Dishonored fic. 

The Tide Occurred to Me

Empress Emily Kaldwin has not been graced with a dreamless sleep in months. From dusk until dawn, the hours are painted with nightmares, with sublime visions, with the Void. She knows, no matter the scene nor players, that this all has to do with the Mark.

After all, that’s when they all began, these waking nights.

Each night, as she walks the spaces between worlds, she suspects that there is no such thing as a dreamless sleep, that there never was--only mornings where the night’s visions become ephemeral in the first rays of the sun. Before, she was blessed with forgetfulness, the ability to let it all fall away in dawn’s light. Now, it’s the Mark that makes her remember each one, every night and morning, for she carries the Void always under her skin--even after the last traces of stars have melted away, when the vestiges of night are cast off the earth below and bathed in gold.

But like the darkness beneath her skin, there are places in Dunwall, she knows, that the light never reaches, where the Void sits close enough to brush shoulders with murderers and liars and thieves.

With rats and artists and beggars and whales.

Sometimes, rather than dream, she cowls herself in rags to join them there. They are councilors of misfortune, emissaries of her city’s trials. They bring news that otherwise would never pass her glit desk behind towering walls of stone.  

Her father tries; he has never forgotten the sunburned streets that bore him as a child, has never forgotten the gutters that ran with blood and bile during the Plague. But he is too far removed from them now, reliant on contacts, upon missives passed from hand to hand--as she should be. And she is, renewed in her commitment to duty, to the name and crown she must wear, to her people, day after day after day.

But at night, she remembers.

And in the morning, she cannot forget.

[imaginaryelle]

Fic: Kernel Panic

A short, pre-romance, relationship-building fic for Gil and Ryder. Contains spoilers for the Hunting the Archon questline under the cut. Many thanks to @dipsykoo, @laireshi and @morphia-writes for alpha reading and beta help.

When Gil slips out of the bunkroom and turns toward the galley he’s momentarily stymied by the appearance of the pathfinder lying on the upper walkway. His legs and bare feet are hanging down just a smidge too close to head-kicking height for comfort.

Gil almost reaches out, almost traces along the flow of ankle to toes, but stops halfway through the motion. There’s a line there, and in his waking hours he’s not sure he’s welcome on the other side yet. Most days it’s a line he can’t even see, Ryder keeps himself so bottled up.  Gil rubs his eyes instead, wondering if maybe his head isn’t quite clear of heavy dreams, but Ryder’s still there, prone on the glass in loose pants and a hoodie with his arms spread wide, staring up at the ceiling and doing some sort of meditative...thing with his fingers, like he’s counting them off with this thumbs, over and over.

It looks more nervous than relaxing. It’s probably not supposed to be done as fast as he’s doing it.

“Hey, Ryder,” he says, keeping his voice low enough to not wake the others.

“Hi Gil,” is Ryder’s response.

“You’re up early.”

“Is it early?” Ryder asks. “I haven’t really… slept. I guess.”

“Are you… doing okay?” Gil’s not particularly used to talking to people this soon after waking up, and his brain’s not quite working right yet, but he’s pretty sure this has never happened before. Ryder keeps some odd hours sometimes, but not like this. This is more Gil’s thing.

“Not really,” Ryder says, and Gil can tell he’s trying for flippant but he doesn’t quite pull it off.

Suvi or Lexi would probably say something like Want to talk about it? here, but Gil’s pretty sure Ryder doesn’t respond well to that on the best of days. He ducks around Ryder’s feet and continues his walk to the galley instead, throwing “I’m making coffee if you want some,” over his shoulder.

He’s rather gratified when it pays off, though how the hell Ryder manages to be so damn quiet making a ten-foot drop he’s got no idea. He pulls down what he’s almost certain is Ryder’s favorite mug and fills it before his own, because so there Vetra, he can too be a gentleman when he wants.

Face to face, Ryder’s got a hollow-eyed look Gil doesn’t like. He slumps against the counter, just holding the mug, face in the steam and eyes trained on the contents like maybe it can tell him something.

Gil drinks his coffee. Ryder doesn’t move.  His shoulders curl in around his chest like a shell. It’s a position Gil recognizes from some of his lower moments, when he can’t maintain his mental shield further outside his skin. He breathes, slow and steady. The only sound is the hum of the engines through the decks.

Gil finishes his coffee and casts around for something to say.

“Are you gonna drink that, or…?”

It’s the wrong thing, probably. Ryder hands back the mug and drums his fingers on the countertop. He keeps looking around like he expects something to jump out from behind the built-in cabinets or something, and Gil ends up standing there and silently drinking a second cup of coffee that he doesn’t really want because he can’t quite bring himself to leave Ryder like this but he’s not quite sure what else to do if the man doesn’t invite him in. He’s just about to says something stupid like, I think there’s something brewing between us, or Did you get this tired running through my dreams all night when Ryder says, “I keep thinking, if I close my eyes, if I fall asleep, I won’t wake back up again.”

Shit.

“This about that mess with the Archon?” Gil asks. Ryder shrugs with this little grimace, like maybe yes, maybe no, but it’s been what—a week, at most? A few days? Gil’s grasp of time hasn’t been exactly stellar lately, but it can’t have been that long.

“It’s stupid,” Ryder says.

Gil gives him the most incredulous look he can muster.

“You think worrying about dying after you literally died is stupid? I mean, I might not be the best voice of rationality on this ship but even I’m pretty sure that’s about as normal a reaction as possible.”

Ryder shrugs again, not really looking at him, which is actually really fucking annoying because Ryder always looks at him. Really looks, like maybe he wants to know more than will the Nomad be ready for Elaadan tomorrow, or so when’s the next crew-wide poker game?

Gil hadn’t been there, obviously.  Sneaking onto enemy ships is a bit outside his purview, especially when he could instead be prepping a quick getaway, but Vetra had been pretty rattled after. “He just—fell,” she’d said, her hands clenching and unclenching restlessly. “And then SAM couldn’t even get his heart going again on the first try. For a second I thought, ‘that’s it, it’s over, we’re all dead. We just don’t know it yet.’”

He’s glad he wasn’t there. Ryder, here, alive and nervy with his hair pressed into weird shapes and his wrinkled sweatshirt hanging from slumped shoulders, is only a dim reflection of his usual self. Gil doesn’t want to think about what Heleus would look like without even this tiny sliver of hope and light.

He needs something to do with his hands, something to stop him just reaching out and poking holes in whatever trust they’re building here.

“Want to come hang out in engineering?” he asks. “I guarantee I can keep you better distracted than whatever it was you were doing earlier.”

“Meditating,” Ryder says. “Well, trying to anyway.”

“Yeah, that looked super relaxing,” Gil drawls. “Come on, I’ll tell you about the time I jury-rigged a derelict on the fly during a live firefight and you can tell me how many laws of physics you’re planning to break tomorrow. It’ll be like shore leave, but with better acoustics.”

He does tell the derelict story. And the busted of hovercraft story, and the one about the elcor in the elevator. Ryder doesn’t quite laugh but he does at least smile a few times, and by the time Gil’s gotten himself elbow deep into system checks on the Nomad’s drive-train he’s looking significantly more relaxed. The little crease between his eyebrows smooths away and he’s actually let himself lean into a halfway comfortable-looking position against a few of the munitions storage crates.

There’s a bit of a lull while Gil tries to rid the wheels of any lingering vestige of Kadara’s noxious mud, and he’s just about to suggest that a helping hand from the person responsible for the mess wouldn’t go amiss when Ryder says, “I know it won’t happen.  The dying thing. I do trust SAM. It’s not like I think it’s a real risk. Rationally. Not that I could do anything about it either way, but…”

“Well, you could always get SAM out of your head,” Gil says. Ryder’s giving him this I don’t think you understand look, and he shrugs. “I’m not saying it’s a good option, but you do still have a choice there. You could sever the connection with SAM and trust yourself to the wonders of slightly less-cutting edge medicine if you wanted to. And sure, we’d probably be down a pathfinder and out our best shot at actually making this place livable, but that’s about everyone else. Not you.”

Ryder shakes his head. “I don’t think I could do that. I mean, even if I could survive the process I don’t think I’d want to do it. The things we do, being the pathfinder and setting up the vaults and everything...” he drops his gaze to his hands, fidgeting on his knees. “I don’t think I could go back to anything else. Sometimes I feel like I’ve waited my whole life to do this. Does that sound weird?”

Gil grins, part reflex, part incredulity, because they both know he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing with his own life most days. “You’re asking me?”

“Yeah,” Ryder says, and he meets Gil’s eyes properly this time. “I guess I am. I mean, my dad died giving me this job. How fucked is it that I feel like it’s what I’m meant for?”

For a moment all Gil can think is be careful what you wish for, which is pretty useless as far as advice goes and doubly annoying because it’s at least half self-recriminatory reaction to finally getting Ryder’s attention in any sort of serious way. The guy just looks even younger than usual, and so vulnerable with his bare feet and trailing pantcuffs and that needy look in his eyes. And then he thinks, Shit, Gil, fucking say something you idiot.

He starts with, “I can’t speak for your dad, obviously,” and grasps for more words. “From what I’ve heard, it doesn’t seem like anyone really can, but I do know that you’ve done some pretty impossible things since you got here and it’s doing a lot of people a lot of good. And it seems to me that if you find meaning in that, if that’s what gets you through the day and helps you find your own peace, who cares what anyone else thinks? You find your purpose, you don’t let that go for anything. That’s how it’s supposed to work, right?”

Ryder chews on his lip for a moment, looking confused.

“Huh,” he says.

“What. Did I garble something in there? Did it not make sense? Because I’ve been known to not make sense sometimes.”

“No, it’s—I think you’re right,” he says. “I just didn’t expect it. From you.”

Gil thinks he might be a little offended by that, but then Ryder smiles again, soft and sweet, and he says, “Thanks, Gil.”

“Sure—uh, sure thing.” Gil clears his throat. “Anytime.”

“Got any more stories?” Ryder asks, and Gil starts off on the first thing that pops into his head because there’s no way he’s saying no now, and that’s how he ends up regaling the human pathfinder with the rather cliche tale of his personal first contact adventure, aka that time he hadn’t realized his batarian poker partner was in the Blue Suns until after he’d taken all the guy’s money.

The next time he looks over Ryder’s asleep against the crates, curled in on himself with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head pillowed on his arms. When Gil looks back at his datapad, trying to decide if he has time to strip off his gloves and go find a blanket before the final checks start chiming completion, there’s a message from SAM in the bottom corner.

Thank you, blinks in blue and white.

I didn’t do it for you, he sends back.

And yet I am still grateful, SAM replies. The pathfinder’s continued good health is my utmost concern, but I cannot offer the emotional support an organic being might provide. It is good to know that others are willing to intervene on his behalf.

Gil can’t really think of a good comeback for that, so he busies himself with wiping down the headlights. When the chime finally goes off he mutes it quickly and double-checks the readouts, and hesitates.

Thanks for bringing him back, he types, and then he pulls off his gloves and goes to find a blanket, because ‘taking care of the pathfinder’ is apparently part of his job description now.

Ryder barely stirs when the blanket settles over him, and for the first time in months, Gil lets himself dream.

[manycoloureddays]

Pansy/Padma get a cat?

this is a Stargazing timestamp, original fic here

“You’re moving in with her already?” Parvati manages to sound incredulousthrough a mouthful of chapati.

“We’ve been together for a year. You and Lavender have lived together sinceyou were eleven.” There’s really no need to elaborate on that. Not only doesPadma not feel the need to justify finding a flat with Pansy, she also knowsexactly how much her sister actually wants the justification. Parvati scotts,right on cue.

“That’s different, and you know it!”

“Well, approval or not, you’re invited to our dinner and unpacking party. Itwill just be the two of us if you don’t come, which is fine, but it would benice to celebrate. This seems like the sort of thing people celebrate.”

“It’s exactly the sort of thing people celebrate,” Lavender sings out fromthe kitchen, saving Parvati from having to answer. “And we will be there withbells on!” She comes back in with dessert. “Now, do you want to hear aboutHermione’s evisceration of that old bigot Monroe?”

They don’t mention flats or girlfriends for the rest of dinner, but thetension barely leaves Parvati’s shoulders, so Padma is surprised to find her onthe other side of the door the next evening.

“It’s so good to see you!” Padma launches herself at Parvati, hugging tight.As often as it happens she hates arguing with her sister. Lavender tucksherself into the hug seamlessly.

“Drinking already?” Parvati’s voice is light, teasing, and Padma doesn’tknow what changed but she is willing to thank Morgana and Rowena both.

“No,” Padma shoves Parvati, rolling her eyes. “I’m just having a really goodday.”

She relents to the once over Parvati gives her and beams when she seemssatisfied. Then she notices the box. The box that has a just detectable linkingcharm, if she squints she can see the traces shimmering around the edges.

“What’s in the box?”

“Uh uh, presents inside the new apartment, with all the recipients… present.”Lavender winces at the unintended pun, waving them backwards into the flat.Padma shakes her head, unintentional puns are the best puns and should becelebrated. Then the meaning of the comment clicks.

“You got us a housewarming gift? Both of us?” She knows her eyes are wide,but she doesn’t have the brain space to hide her surprise. Lavender tilts herhead in Parvati’s direction, eyes warm and proud.

“Yep. But Lavender’s right. You only get it if you behave.”

“Alright, alright, well you may as well make yourselves useful. Pansy justpopped round the corner. We realised we didn’t have toilet paper when it wasalmost too late.”

They laugh and fall into an easy rhythm, Parvati and Lavender looking throughthe boxes of books in the lounge room and Padma chatting to them through thekitchen door while she waits for the kettle to boil. She hears the key in thelock just as she’s filling the third mug, and whisks out a fourth.

“Are you sure you don’t have the Sight, Padma?” Lavender asks. As much asPadma is interested in learning more about her sister’s magic she is perfectlyfine with only seeing the past and present.

“No. And I’m endlessly glad that gift is one I don’t share with Parvati.”

“I think it’d be fun,” Pansy says, kissing her cheek and pulling away witharched eyebrows. Padma hopes she doesn’t blush. “But this way I can surpriseyou, so I figure that’s a bonus.”

Padma manages to tear her eyes away from Pansy just in time to catch thelook that passes between Parvati and Lavender. Before anyone can say anythingthat might upset the delicate balance they have found themselves in Padmapoints at the box.

“They bought us a housewarming present.”

She doesn’t know what she expected to find in the box, but the two softblack kittens draw the most ridiculous sound out of her. They are heartmelting.

“Oh no, they are the most adorable kittens I have ever seen!”

Pansy, who can never resist animals, but especially animals of the small andfluffy variety, immediately puts her hand in the box.

“Go on, pick it up,” Lavender nudges the box closer. “She’s yours. They’resisters, so we thought, this way they won’t be separated forever.”

Padma watches the last vestiges of anxiety leave Pansy’s face when shescoops their kitten up. She holds it close, tucked in against her chest, andthe kitten purrs. Padma moves closer, hooks her chin over Pansy’s shoulder andstrokes a line down the kitten’s back, watching is wriggle and curl closer toboth their hands.

“What are we going to call her?” she whispers.

“What did you call yours?” Pansy asks, and Padma looks up to find Parvatiand Lavender watching them. She had completely forgotten they were there.

“Cassandra.”

“Of course you did.” Parvati would have a poster of Cassandra up on her wallif such a thing existed. It is the least surprising thing in the world that hersister would name a cat after her. “Do we want to keep it in the family?Something from Greek myth?”

“Artemis,” Pansy suggests, less a question than a test. The kitten, asthough it knows they’re talking about her, looks up at them.

“Artemis. Yeah, I like that.”

That night, Parvati and Lavender have gone home, and all their essentialboxes have been unpacked, Padma curls up on the couch, reaching for her book.Pansy, managing to make flopping down on the couch look graceful, puts her headin her lap.

“Read to us?” she asks, scooping Artemis up off a cushion on the floor andputting her on her stomach. Artemis stands, stretching, and then pads up anddown Pansy’s body. They both watch, fascinated. “Hey kitty,” Pansy coos in thevoice every adult has reserved for pets and babies, “hey kitty, do you wantyour mama to read you a story? Would you like that, Artemis?”

“Well if Artemis wants me to read,”Padma sighs dramatically. If this is what living with Pansy is going to belike, Padma thinks, I don’t know why we didn’t do it sooner.