#i have it narrowed down to two things and i've removed them both

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Fight: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: After a weird encounter with your parents and friends, you try to get to the bottom of it even if you don't like the answer.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

You join Emily and Mick Rawson who is on the Red Cell team. They're standing over the recent victim while SFPD is closing off the park from everyone else.

"Hey, I came as fast as I could," you say. "Do you have any gloves?"

Emily hands you a pair and you slip them on over your own hands. You kneel next to the body and touch the wounds on his face. His spiritual energy flies out of his body and swirls around you, putting out a video that plays out in front of you of his last moments. There is an empty pool with two people inside, one of them being the victim. Both of them run at each other before fighting. There are tons of blood stains all around the pool, telling you that many people have fought there. A man sits on the edge of the pool looking down at the two men fighting but the only thing you're getting from him is that he's white. That narrows it down... Not. You stand up and remove the gloves.

"So, the only thing I'm getting is that he and another man were inside this big empty pool and they were fighting each other. The unsub was sitting on the edge watching them but the only thing I saw was that he's white." Mick stares at you like you have two heads and you stick your hand out which he shakes. "Hi, I'm Y/N, the on-call psychic."

"Not the weirdest thing I've come across," he shrugs.

"British, huh? I know a girl who has a thing for accents," you grin and look at Emily who blushes.

Mick smirks but he doesn't say anything about it.

"So, the Tenderloin is full of junkies who would be easy to control, but the first victim had no drugs in his system and this geezer looks pretty healthy except for the whole dead thing. There's skin under his nails. Didn't the first victim have scratch marks on his chest?"

"The victims are fighting each other," you say, "not the unsub."

"Exactly," Mick agrees.

"I take it you're about to wow us with a theory?"

"The first victim is dumped before the fathers and daughters are taken. Why?"

Because he wants to send a message to the wife that he means business, to make sure she doesn't call the police."

"It also sends a message to the prisoners he already has. If you lose a fight, you die." Mick leans down and points to the welts that are on the victim's back. "What do those welts look like to you?"

"Wounds from rubber bullets?"

"This is the same as how they used to control rioters or prison inmates. I think the unsub's been locked up. It's where he's learned to control his own prisoners."

"Well, if he's learned how to dominate them, why are they fighting each other?" Emily asks.

"It has to be part of his plan to watch them beat the hell out of each other. The loser is executed."

You take out your phone and call Hotch.

"Hey, we might have the profile on this guy." You tell him everything Mick told you. "How do you want us to do this?"

"If what Rawson said is true, the profile will need to be given to San Quinten Prison."

"Hotch, I can't go there," you whisper.

"I'm not asking you to. I'll have Rossi and Sam go there. Get back to the station so we can give it to SFPD."

"Thank you."

Rossi and Sam go to the prison, Derek stays with Jane's mother, and the rest of the team is at the SF police station to deliver the profile.

"We have a serial killer on our hands. We think he might have done time in San Quinten Prison. It's very likely that this unsub has a prison record. He's white, and judging by the age of the people he abducts, most likely in his thirties. Considering the terrain in which he's dumping the bodies, we think that he's imposing or at least very physically fit," Hotch begins.

"He also has access to a space that's large enough to house and control a number of prisoners, all without disturbing the neighbors. Look for places that have big pools, most likely abandoned," you say without telling them about your gift.

"This guy keeps to the same hunting ground and same dumpsite. He's a control freak and really organized. Also, in prison, he would have been obsessed with the guards and their methods of controlling the prisoners, especially in the yard."

"This dude kills folks the same few days every year. There's no way he's that obsessed and he's not talking about it," an officer scoffs.

"We think the man has a daughter of his own, most likely a brunette like Jane. The dates he chooses probably correspond to an event involving his own daughter. Our guess is that he lost his daughter in some way and it's symbolic of him not fighting for her in the first place."

"A lot of times, killers choose victims that are surrogates for someone, like a wife or a mother. In this case, we think his own guilt is making him choose surrogates that represent himself."

With the profile in mind, it's time to do some scouting on the streets. You know his energy. You'll be able to spot him out in a crowd if he's around. Emily and Mick joined you on the mission with Mick up above in the clouds. He's a very good sniper and can see more than you and Emily might. The place you hit is Chinatown while everyone else scouts other cities the unsub might hit.

"So, what are you wearing?"

You smirk when you hear Mick's voice in your ear. You look at Emily to see her smile, and you know she heard him, too.

"A gun." She chuckles. "Hey, Mick, explain something to me. How come we're out on the street and you're sitting on your butt on some roof?"

"Do you really want me to expound on my own prowess? It's undignified. Stay on your headset. All his victims are coming from this four-block radius."

Emily looks at you and sees the look on your face.

"Don't start."

"I didn't say anything." You remember Friday's mishap and look at Emily with a slight frown. "So, how's that dating profile of yours coming along?"

She tenses next to you. "Good."

"Come on, Emily, you know I know you two were lying. Why did you lie? I'm not mad, just confused as to why you felt the need to. Do you not like my parents?"

"It's not that," she sighs. She hopes she can leave it at that but then she sees you staring at her, waiting for an answer. "I don't know. I felt something when he looked at me."

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N, please drop it."

"No, Emily, what do you mean? Did you feel unsafe?"

"No, nothing like that. There was something about him that made me uncomfortable."

"Was it something he said?"

"No. I'm sorry. It was the way he looked at me."

"Oh," you say softly.

"I'm probably reading too much into it." You nod and continue to walk in silence. "Are we okay? I don't like fighting with you."

Whatever happened on Friday wasn't Emily's fault. Your dad must be under a lot of stress and his look might have come across as creepy when it had nothing to do with Emily. You look at her and give her a reassuring smile.

"We're not fighting. We're okay. I just wanted to know, is all. In the future, you don't have to lie."

"Okay," she chuckles.

"If you two are done, I think I've got something," Mick says from above. "I don't know if it's anything but check out the guy in the southeast corner. See the guy clocking the junkie?"

"Care to expand on that? All I see are guys clocking junkies."

"Gray shirt."

You two look where Mick is directing you and see a man following closely behind another man who looks like he's cracked out. Emily is about to follow them when you stop her.

"That's not him."

"What? How do you know?" Mick asks.

"Look, I'm a psychic. I see energies and I've already seen the unsub's energy through the victims. His energy doesn't match the unsub's. Everyone has their own unique aura and that guy isn't ours."

"I trust her with my life," Emily backs you up. "If she says it's not him, it's not him."

"Put a little trust in me, Mick."

"Alright, I do," he says after a pause.

"He was never here. Tonight was a bust."

The next morning after a restless night, your team meets the Red Cell in their domain. It looks like a storage garage that one would go to if they wanted to get their car fixed. Only there are no cars but computers and other tech equipment everywhere.

"Did your analyst get us the data?" Sam asks JJ.

"Yeah, I can lay it out for you."

"Good. Let's cross-reference it against our potential suspect pool."

One of the agents, Johnathan Simms, takes out his phone once he hears it ringing.

"Hello? ... Yeah, we can be there." He hangs up and looks at Rossi. "You up for a ride to San Quentin?"

"Lead the way."

"Okay, what do we have?" Mick asks once the two men are gone.

"The profile says he's spent time in prison and probably lost a teenage daughter in a way that corresponds to the dates he abducts and kills his victims. We have the dates in question divided into four specific subsets." Spencer points to the different groups as he explains. "This group is teenage girls ages thirteen to sixteen who were removed from their fathers' care. This group are deaths of teenagers the same age. The remainder are men arrested for violent crimes and anyone serving a prison sentence during the same window."

"The stressor's in here somewhere. Let's find something that looks promising so we can start running background checks. I want to get inside the girl's head. She's the key. Any insight could help break this thing. We need to understand why he took this girl at this time," Sam says.

One of the prisoners who asked Rossi and John to come overheard a story about this big white man who was in this prison at one time. Supposedly he's all kinds of crazy. When he found out his daughter died, he went all commando--boxing, working out, and challenging everyone in the yard saying that he'd fight them to the death. Sounds like it could be the unsub. It got so bad that he started to beef with the officers when they finally put him in solitary confinement to serve out the rest of his term.

Derek, while with Jane, finds something about Jane that sticks out to him. There is a collage in her room that doesn't have her parents in it like she's trying to hide them or keep them from her life. He finds her diary which is filled with typical teenage stuff like rants about her parents being unfair and talking about some boy named David. He thinks it's odd that she'd have a diary when she comes across as a very private person. The diary only goes back nine months, and Sarah reveals that the family counselor suggested she start one. His office? In the Tenderloin District.

"Okay. Got it. Good work, Morgan," Hotch says when he called. He hangs up and looks at the team. "The Mcbride family went to a therapy center in the Tenderloin. The place also did evaluations for social services."

"We profiled that the unsub may have had his daughter taken away from him," Emily says.

"If he was processed in the same place, then he would know how to target the fathers and daughters. Can I talk to your analyst?" Sam asks.

"Sure."

Hotch calls Penelope and places her on speakerphone for all to hear.

"Penelope Garcia."

"Sam Cooper here."

"Sam Cooper?" she gasps. "As I live and breathe, and here I thought you were a story someone invented. What you got?"

"Here's what I need from you. Has anyone been processed by social services who ended up losing a daughter? I don't care how big the list is. I can cross-reference it against my others."

"Roger that. Gonna hack like the wind. Prepare to be wowed, sir." She is silent for five minutes. "Alright, my tribe, I have a list of parents evaluated by social services who ended up losing custody, but as Cooper predicted, it is a lengthy tale of woe."

"We'll use it to cross against the teenage girls who died on some of the dates in question. I'm gonna start reading names. You tell me if they're on your list. Maria Salter, Carla Denny, Joyce Collard, Dawn Sparrow--"

"We have a name," Sam says while checking a text. "John Vincent Bell."

"One of the first who died was named Mandy Bell."

"Garcia, run the name John Vincent Bell against the family therapy list."

"Shazam. Bell and his wife divorced then the wife died. Bell was declared incompetent to have custody of the daughter due to a host of mental health issues."

"They got that right," Sam scoffs.

"Oh, Lord, when social service agents showed up to remove the girl, Bell beat one of them to death and was given seven years for manslaughter. During this time, his daughter was in a car accident. It looks like she survived three days on life support but eventually died of brain injuries."

"Bell is making these men fight to the death just like he did. He's trying to prove he did what any father would do."

"Do we have an address?" Sam asks.

"The only listing I have is a gym on Hall Street in the Tenderloin. It belongs to Bell's family. It hasn't been operational for years."

"Gyms have pools," you say, remembering what you saw.

"We got him."

You take two cars to the place and get out once you arrive. You sneak inside the darkened gym quietly. You come across the main room where there is a big pool with tons of blood stains in and around it. There is a body inside the pool... dead. Half the team searches the gym while you stay in the main room.

"See? Told you I saw a pool," you mutter to Mick.

"I will never doubt you again," he chuckles. Someone moans in pain from the left side of the room, and you see Ben McBride chained to the pole with cuts and bruises all over his face. "I need paramedics immediately to 631 Hall Street."

Pictures of Jane and Bell are scattered around the floor on Polaroids and she looks terrified.

"Sir, where's your daughter?" Sam asks.

"He took her."

"How long ago?"

"A few minutes ago. Find her," he begs. "Please find her."

"The place is clear," JJ says when she comes back.

"He's on the street. He's got the girl."

"I'll stay with the father."

Hotch takes out his phone and calls Penelope.

"Garcia, I need vehicle information For Bell. Tell police we need an APB."

"I can hit the rooftops," Mick offers.

"Good. Go," Sam says and Mick runs off. "I need a helicopter."

"Garcia, tell San Francisco PD we need a chopper." Hotch looks at you. "Can you track Jane?"

"Yes."

"Good. Do it."

This is the way you prove yourself. You need to feel like your old self again. You're done letting others control your life. Both Jane and Bell's energy is everywhere inside the gym but her panic causes her energy to wisp through the gym and out the back door. You immediately follow the wisp until you reach the street. The wisp flies down the street. You don't think twice about running after it. Hotch, Rossi, and another Red Cell agent take the car while Derek and Emily run after you. You don't stop running until you reach the end of the street and watch as the wisp flies down the sidewalk toward a public parking garage. You keep running and enter the garage with nothing on your mind but Jane. You run all the way to the roof of the garage where you see Bell practically dragging Jane with him to the ledge.

"John Bell, FBI!" Derek yells with his gun out. "Put the weapon down!"

"Don't shoot me!" Jane pleads.

"Drop the gun!"

"It's over! Look around you! You know what it feels like to lose your daughter. Do you really want to hurt somebody else's?"

Bell shoves Jane away and jumps onto the ledge. He's going to jump.

"Get off the wall!" Derek yells.

Bell smirks and jumps off the wall without a second glance. You and Emily rush over to the wall and look down only to see Bell with a gun pointed right at you. He jumped onto a ledge and waited for someone to come so he could take out one of you. Your eyes widen but you don't have to think about your life ending. A shot rings out but it doesn't come from Bell. Mick zeroes in on him through the scope of his sniper rifle. You two look at him and he waves to show you that he's got you.

This calls for a win. Strauss can be pissed all she wants but if it wasn't for Sam and his team, you'd have never thought fathers and their daughters were going missing. For your last night in San Francisco, Sam opened his shop to your entire team for a small party to celebrate.

"Thank you for what you did," Emily says to Mick.

"Same here but I'm sure she'll do enough thanking for the both of us," you wink at Emily whose cheeks redden.

"You guys wanna watch out for this one. She's gonna have a hard time getting over me," Mick smirks.

"Like kicking a virus," she grins.

"You know, I could have just missed."

"With your ego? Not a chance," she chuckles.

Spencer walks over to you with a cracker that has a dip on top of it. He holds his hand underneath it so nothing falls on the ground.

"Open." You open your mouth and he puts the cracker inside. You chew it happily and nod to him to let him know you think it's delicious. "Good, huh?"

"Yeah," you smile and swallow.

"I see you're doing better," Rossi smiles and nudges you.

"Doing better, Rossi, and feeling better. I think... I think I'm going to be okay."

In fact, when you got home, you didn't have a single nightmare.

x

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[papermint-airplane]

My game crashed again but THIS TIME I believe I have isolated the reason why. Why does this always happen when I have limited time to play though? 😭😭😭 I'll have to fix it tomorrow.

Pls accept these random old b-roll pictures of Uriah as Content™ because I want to post something but I have nothing because my game won't cooperate. 😭

[disneyprincemuke]

in the name of friendly racing * fem!driver

a simple race on their scooters flips the entire paddocks upside down

pairings: liam lawson x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: hello everyone i know i haven't posted a vr piece and it's all because i couldn't fully grasp the fact that femdriver and logan are not together in this universe but i took a break from them and yes i'm coping well, but no i will not stop tearing up about their love story k? anyway, i think this is MID compared to other crack fics i've written but i'm trying i promise

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

she holds up the scooter in one hand, the other on her hip as she leans into the tablet in liam's hands. "what's the route again?"

"are you stupid?" logan asks.

"no, do you want to not join us?" she asks quickly, lifting her head to glare at the american across her. she darts her arm out and shoves logan back. "i'll disqualify you right here, right now. you wanna spend your afternoon in your driver's room like a loser like the rest of them?"

"he sent it to the group chat, how can you still not know the route?" logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes down into a glare.

"i'm just making sure!"

"relax," liam mutters, holding a hand up in an attempt to break up the fight that he's sure would happen if he doesn't interfere. "i'll disqualify you both."

"just tell me the route," mick sighs, shaking his head. he steps forward and tilts his head to try and get a look at the screen under the scorching sun above them. "no cheating, okay?"

logan huffs. "tell that to her."

she throws her head back and rolls her eyes. "god, logan!" she winds her arm back and darts an arm out to grab logan's sweatshirt. she bundles it up into her hands and tries to yank logan towards her.

"okay!" mick cries out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from logan. he carefully, finger by finger, removes her hand from grasping his sweatshirt and pushes her back. he then guides logan two steps away. "the race hasn't even started yet!"

oscar pops his head between the girl and liam. "are you sure you should be doing this?"

"of course," liam mutters, glancing at oscar. "why are you here? i thought you didn't want anything to do with us if we went through with this?"

"yeah, but i'm curious. so i know which places to avoid - i wouldn't want to get run over by road rager over here," he gestures to her and then at logan, "and mr. beating-(y/n)-is-my-life's-mission over there."

"she can't possibly be beating me at every single thing!" logan cries, throwing his arms in the air, and pointing over at her.

"sore loser!"

"okay, so we're starting here," liam points at where they're standing. "we start at williams."

"are you guys going to the pitlane?" oscar questions.

"no, are you crazy? do you want somebody to kill us?" mick scoffs. "i'd get my scooter rights taken away from me!"

"yeah," liam agrees with a nod. he throws oscar a judgemental stare, absolutely bewildered at the thought that they would be racing at the area where literal cars could be driving out. he looks back down at the ipad. "anyway."

"we zip between the racing homes," logan mutters, tracing the map of the paddocks that they'd pulled up from the internet. "and then we make a round around the interview table and the finish line is back here. don't forget to zip through the racing homes again."

"exactly," liam nods. "everyone aware of the rules?"

"you guys had the time to come up with rules?" oscar laughs. "seriously?"

"no shortcuts," mick says, turning his head to look at the younger girl. he grabs her wrist. "have you got your watch on so we can track the route everyone takes for the race?"

"yes. i'm a fair racer, above all," she scowls, retracting her arm from mick. "and we stop for everyone who calls us, yes? especially the fans."

"easy," logan nods, a smirk stretching his lips. "suddenly i'm kind of thankful nobody really likes me."

"what? don't say that," she grunts. "i like you. we like you."

"break it up, lovebirds. we are not friends, we're competitors," liam mutters. "you guys got the glasses (y/n) stole from seb's office?"

"i didn't steal them. we're borrowing them!" she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "don't break them - seb doesn't know i took them from his office."

"oh, i'm pretty sure charles would have let you borrow his if you asked," oscar whispers. when she turns her head to glare at him, oscar lifts his arms up to surrender. "but, you know. what do i know?"

"well i'm not sponsored by rayban - my glasses aren't here yet. i get when everybody else gets them," she frowns. "and, i don't wanna bother charles. it's okay."

"so you snuck into seb's office instead."

"it's not sneaking in if the door was wide open," she laughs, rolling her eyes. "duh?"

"ah, is that why you needed me to keep a lookout in the hallway?" logan says.

"shut up. i'm going to beat you," she mutters, pointing at logan with a threatening finger.

"okay, so are we clear about the rules?" liam puts the ipad down and looks around. "we've literally tried to make it as foolproof as possible. there's no way you guys can find ways to cheat, right?" he turns to her. "right?"

"i don't know why you keep looking at me - i'm a fair racer! you should be asking mick if he's going to be honest about this one!"

"why me? isn't logan desperate to keep the paper mache cup that we made three nights ago?"

"in my defence, i still believe i should keep it even if i lose because i worked on it the entire night. all you fuckers did was play overcooked and scream at each other in mick's hotel room."

"okay, shut up and race," oscar mutters, flailing his arms in the air to dismiss their huddle. "are you guys ready? can i start the race for you?"

"for someone who doesn't want to be a part of this, you sure are pushy," she mutters, turning on her heel to hop onto her scooter. "are we ready? apple watches and rayban glasses on?"

she takes the sunglasses that have been resting on the collar of her blouse and puts it on. she turns to her left and points at logan. "i'm gonna crush you."

logan pushes the sunglasses up his nose, looking ahead and doesn't spare her another glance. "sure."

"okay, okay," oscar cheers, clapping his hands. he reaches into his back pocket and reveals a red handkerchief. "turned your scooters on? everybody got their smart watches and smart glasses on?"

"start the race, cunt!"

oscar's lip twitches. "anyway. be safe, you guys. we have a race this weekend."

"i don't," mick smiles. "stay safe, though."

"start the race before i do it myself, bitch!"

"liam, shut the fuck up!" she shrieks, stepping off her scooter momentarily to whack him on the arm.

"god!" liam screams, his arm darting out to whack her as a response. "the race is going to start and you're not going to-"

"go!" oscar shouts, waving the handkerchief into the air. he darts to the side to get out of their way with a giggle.

almost immediately, logan and mick have already pulled back their handles, darting away from the williams racing home. she shrieks and shoves liam, causing him to lose his balance slightly, hops onto her scooter and drives away.

"oh, liam!" a deep voice calls. "i've been looking for you everywhere!"

"fuck's sake," liam sighs, shaking his head as he turns to see christian walking up to him. but he smiles as he is approached by the team principal. "yeah, christian?"

up ahead, she frowns to herself as she watches mick and logan racing head to head. there's no way to catch up to them on these scooters - it's simply not like an f1 car. she can only bank on the fact that someone, somehow, will stop them to give her some sort of window to pass them.

with the little number of people in the paddocks on a wednesday for the weekend proves that they should have done this early in the afternoon on friday. there could have been more obstacles and distractions for them.

if only the boys had listened to her.

she shrieks when she sees george flagging mick down ahead of the alpine racing home, forcing mick to come to slow stop. she screeches loudly when she passes mick, her hair being blown back by the wind and speed she's going at.

"thanks, george!" she screams, momentarily waving at the brit as she passes the mercedes pair. she can see logan ahead of her, speeding and manoeuvring around the crowd flawlessly by the ferrari home.

surely, somebody will recognise him and pull him to a stop, right? if nobody does, she can only hope that alex is somewhere in the paddocks wondering where his rookie has gone.

the race, objectively, is going fine for her. logan was momentarily stopped by a williams engineer. she passes them screeching, also thanking the nameless woman and waving at logan smugly as she accelerates her scooter.

when she does that, her eyes widen when she sees mick also passing logan. she has no idea where liam has gone, or if christian has even let him go from their conversation at the back of the paddocks.

she does get stopped, once, by susie who stops her to ask her a question. it was a simple question that she easily had the answer to and susie let her off in seconds. she excitedly presses a kiss on the older woman's cheek and quickly accelerates away, shocked that mick is suddenly riding next to her.

behind them is logan trailing shortly, and liam's conversation with christian is actually short. so behind logan is liam, held back by a couple of seconds only.

it's just that christian had overheard them whispering earlier that day about their race and he had lurked by the williams racing home to mess with his driver.

she, unfortunately, does get stopped another time, by a fan that was being brought around for a tour of the paddocks ahead of the race weekend. she grumbled under her breath when the three boys passed her: mick mimicking her shrill screech, logan passing her with his fingers in an 'L' shape, then liam simply ignoring her.

the race is short. suddenly they're all at the final stretch, now circled back at the ferrari racing home as they aim to make it to the finish line where oscar sits in a plastic chair, hunched over as he texts his girlfriend.

she screeches when she sees mick come to a stop right by the aston martin home. it's then questionable when she sees logan stop, and then liam. and suddenly she's getting flagged down by liam.

she rolls her eyes and ignores them, clearly being sore losers that she is now destined to win their little race. she goes right past them, slowing down slightly since it seems that she is the only competitor left in the race.

"(y/n)!" she hears a familiar accent. her eyes widen as she looks back, seeing sebastian with his hands on his hips, surrounded by her friends with the guiltiest expressions on their faces.

it all happens very fast. she had all intentions to slow down and go back to where they were, but she hadn't seen the rock up ahead.

if only she'd been looking ahead.

the front wheel of her scooter is caught against the stone, sending both her and the vehicle flying forward. "fuck!" she screams, her arms stretching out to try and break the fall.

"oh, my god!"

"that's going to hurt."

"are you stupid?"

"are you okay?"

she stays in her spot for a couple of seconds as she tries to digest the events of what just happened to her. one second, she had been on her scooter, the next she's knelt on the ground with her hands planted into the ground.

then it hits her: all of the pain from her fall.

she removes her hands from the ground and blinks rapidly, allowing the blood to seep from her now wounded palms. she feels it in her knees, surely scraping her favourite pair of pants when she had skidded against the floor. one of sebastian's pair of raybans is strewn not too far from her on the ground.

her scooter is ahead of her, which oscar is now bent over and pushing it upright.

she looks up, meeting logan's eyes with a hand over his mouth.

"it's not funny!"

"it's a little funny," logan shrugs before he bends down to meet her. "are you okay?"

tears immediately well in her eyes. she stretches out her hands and shows logan her injured palms. "i hurt my hands!"

"we can see that." mick is the next to kneel next to her, taking her hands into his. he moves her hands about and tries to assess her wounds. "we should get you back to your room and treat these."

"where are my glasses, you fucking- seriously, (y/n)?" she hears sebastian mutter. she lifts her head and watches sebastian pick up the pair from the ground and turn to her. "seriously? a race on the scooter i had to beg to get you?"

"it was liam's idea!" she cries, wiping her eye on the sleeve of her blouse. "he challenged me!"

"it was premeditated!" liam screams in an attempt to defend himself. "she said we would race once you got her scooter approved!"

"shut the fuck up!" she screeches, reaching out to push liam. "i told you not to tell on me!"

"okay, enough fighting," oscar sighs. he bends over and is the only one to think that she should not let her wounds be against the dirty ground for too long. "come on, let's get you all patched up."

"but my knees!" she cries, sniffling as she looks down at her scraped jeans. there's a small hole on both of her knees, the edges seeped with blood and small matching wounds on either. "i can't-"

"enough crying, drama queen," logan mutters, already hunched over and tapping his shoulders. "i'll carry you back. stop crying."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicore @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @inejismywife @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[portagas-chan]

Mihawk x F!Reader x Crocodile

Summary: [Y/n], a doctor from Buggy's crew catches the attention of the two former warlords wanting nothing but to claim her as theirs, and gets railed hard by them.

Warning: Poly relationship, swearing, cock sucking, cunt licking, cock riding.

"Please, spare me! Don't kill me!" Buggy's pleas echoed through the room. Just then, [Y/n] walked in the room when she heard that her friends were having a banquet inside.

Buggy saw [Y/n] and immediately called out her name shifting the two former warlords' attention from him to her. "[Y/n], please help your captain!"

[Y/n] stopped and turned to face her captain who was bawling his eyes out and looked beaten up.

"No," she said with a serious face.

Buggy blinked in confusion, "Huh?"

"I said no," she repeated.

"She refused me twice!" Buggy cried. "Why? I'm your captain!"

"Really? I thought they said they were going to kill you." [Y/n] shrugged.

"[Y/n]? I've never seen her before, clown," Mihawk said.

"She is a doctor in my crew," Buggy answered.

Crocodile narrowed his eyes, "Why would a clown like you have a pretty doctor?" [Y/n] blushed when she heard Crocodile call her pretty.

Buggy shrieked, "It's the truth!" Mihawk sighed and Crocodile threw Buggy's head away and he grunted in pain as his head rolled on the floor.

Buggy's crewmates who were eating happily and having the time of their life shifted their attention to Buggy's head that landed in front of them.

"Oh, captain? Do you want some meat?" Cabiji asked pointing at the plate of meat they were devouring. "You traitors!"

[Y/n] was about to go join her crewmates when Crocodile stopped her.

"[Y/n]," Crocodile patted the empty space between him and Mihawk on the couch they were sitting on. "Sit."

[Y/n] nervously walked towards them and sat on the couch as she was told. She didn't know what they wanted but she hoped she wasn't going to end up like her captain.

Crocodile's hook touched your chin slightly lifting it up to make her look at him, "A pretty little thing like you," his hand went to hold her hips, his finger playing with the waistband of her skirt, slightly stretching it, "shouldn't be with that clown."

Mihawk never took his eyes off her. He watched how she reacted when Crocodile teased her. The red hue painted on her cheeks, her slightly opened mouth, the nervous expression on her face, it was cute.

Mihawk grabbed her head and turned it around so she was facing him instead. He leaned closer to her face, "Stop paying attention to him."

Crocodile smirked, "Are you jealous, Hawk-eye?"

Mihawk glanced at Crocodile, "That's none of your business." His attention shifted back towards you as he leaned down towards you. He placed his hand on your thigh traveling towards the hem of your skirt. His lips grazed against your ear.

[Y/n] tensed up and shivered at Mihawk's actions.

"Your skirt is so short," He whispered in her ear.

[Y/n] quickly leaned back flustered not being able to handle the tension and how the both of them were getting close to her.

"What are you guys doing?" She buried her face in her hands to cover her red face.

They chuckled at this, finding it adorable.

Crocodile leaned back on the couch, puffing out smoke from his cigar and putting an arm around her shoulder.

"Get out! And take that stupid clown captain of yours. I want some privacy," Crocodile shouted referring to Buggy and his crewmates.

"Yes sir!"

"What are you going to do with me?" [Y/n] shyly asked.

Crocodile removed the cigar from his mouth and leaned down. He held her chin before tilting his head to the side and kissing her. [Y/n]'s eyes widened in surprise and soon he pulled away from the kiss.

Mihawk held her cheek and turned her around to face him as he kissed her as well. Mihawk pulled away from the kiss and glared at Crocodile, "She's not yours."

"And she ain't yours either," Crocodile returned his glare.

Mihawk pulled [Y/n] close to him and away from Crocodile to which he narrowed his eyes at Mihawk.

"What are you trying to do, Hawk-eye?"

Mihawk didn't answer him as his arm went to hug her waist while his other hand went to touch her hair making sure her back was facing Crocodile.

"Mihawk?" [Y/n] called out.

Mihawk trailed kisses on her shoulder, his stern gaze never leaving Crocodile, "Your shoulder is exposed." He licked her neck and she shivered.

Mihawk started to suck on her neck and [Y/n] let out a moan. She blushed and placed her hands on his exposed chest, "Mihawk.."

Mihawk pulled away from her neck satisfied when he saw a hickey on her neck. Crocodile groaned in annoyance, "You done?" Mihawk smirked at him in response. He just wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

"[Y/n]," Crocodile called out her name making her look at him. "Your captain said you were a doctor, am I right?"

"Yes," she nodded her head. Crocodile grinned at her, "Well, doctor, I've got a problem. Can you help me with that?" He glanced down before looking back at her.

[Y/n]'s face turned red when she saw the big bulge growing from his pants. "Well, that.. um," [Y/n] didn't know what to say and looked away from him.

Crocodile chuckled and patted his lap, "Come here, [Y/n]."

[Y/n] obeyed him and sat on his lap. Crocodile glanced at Mihawk with a cocky smirk on his face. Mihawk blankly stared at them but he knows that Mihawk wants nothing but to fuck [Y/n] senselessly seeing his dick growing hard in his pants.

"We will take turns first, Hawk-eye."

Crocodile slammed his lips onto her and she kissed him back. He shoved his tongue in her mouth as they started making out. Eventually, he pulled away from the kiss to let her breathe.

He squeezed her ass and pulled her off his lap. He changed his position sitting sideways on the couch. He unbuckled his pants and took off his boxers freeing his hard cock.

"Suck it," He demanded and [Y/n] complied. She got on all fours and leaned her head down towards his hard cock. She licked on it to make sure it was coated with her saliva before engulfing it in her mouth.

Crocodile did this on purpose so her ass was facing Mihawk. Just as he thought Mihawk's eyes were hungrily gazing at her ass.

"I see what you're trying to do, Crocodile," Mihawk said before slowly lifting her skirt and pulling down her underwear before fully taking it off. Her wet cunt was exposed. Her juices dripping down her thigh.

Mihawk wasted no time and licked her cunt. [Y/n] moaned and the vibrations pleasure Crocodile even more as he groaned.

Crocodile felt impatient at her slow pace and he grabbed her hair pushing his cock fully in her mouth. [Y/n] gagged and clenched his thighs as she felt tears threatening to come out when his cock hit the back of her throat, bobbing her head at a fast pace.

Mihawk buried his face in her cunt and continued to eat her out, sucking her clit and inserting his tongue inside of her. [Y/n] moaned uncontrollably at the pleasure she was receiving. Crocodile threw his head back and closed his eyes when he felt that familiar sensation. Crocodile pressed her head down and slightly thrust his hips forwards as he released his semen inside her mouth.

Mihawk pulled himself away from her cunt with her cum on his face and [Y/n] removed Crocodile's cock from her mouth. His cum dripping from the corner of her lips. Crocodile grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, tasting his own cum when their tongue entangled.

Crocodile pulled away from the kiss and threw [Y/n] over his shoulder and smacked her ass earning a surprised gasp from her.

"Let's take this to the bed."

How many times had they made her cum? Was it six times? Seven? She lost count. Her mind was hazy. They were driving her to her high. Taking turns to fuck her or just making her pleasure them and her getting pleasured by them at the same time. Her body was covered in their cum.

"Fuck!" Crocodile groaned as he stroked his cock watching [Y/n] riding Mihawk with his hat on and moaning loudly. It was fucking hot and sexy.

[Y/n] bounced up and down on Mihawk's cock, throwing her head back, her mouth wide open, her eyes rolled back as she let out her unstoppable moans.

Mihawk groaned as he held her hips helping her bounce off him while he sucked her nipple, teasingly biting it and slightly pulling it. Mihawk kissed her to which she gladly kissed him back.

"Mihawk!" She moaned his name when she threw her head back in ecstasy feeling herself about to cum again. "I'm cumming again!" Mihawk pulled out his cock when he felt himself feeling the same as her as he stroked his cock cumming on her chest.

"Fuck, [Y/n]! Look at me. Fucking look at me with that same erotic expression and open your fucking mouth," Crocodile grunted.

[Y/n] turned to look at him with her mouth open and her tongue out and it didn't take long for Crocodile to cum over her face.

As [Y/n] was about to collapse from exhaustion, Crocodile caught her carrying her in his arms and walking to the bathroom with Mihawk following from behind. They helped her clean up first before cleaning themselves as well.

They gently placed her on the bed between them and hugged her close to them as they kissed her on the cheeks making her smile at their sweet affection.

"[Y/n], from now on, you belong to us," Crocodile started and Mihawk finished his sentence.

"And we belong to you."

[joeyalohadream]

ooh for the fic drabbles, bucky learning that buck is extremely ticklish somewhere! he didn’t notice before because maybe it’s a bit of an odd spot like the backs of his thighs or something 🥰

Now that I published my long fic, I can go back and finish all the lovely requests I've received!

This one was cute anon! Thank you, enjoy!

Word Count: 863

Bucky released Gale as gently as he could, which if the annoyance on Gale’s face was anything to go by, wasn’t very.

“Sorry,” Bucky laughed and moved to sit back on his cot, across from Gale’s.

He observed the younger man with a smile on his face, taking in his mussed hair, his flushed cheeks and the slightly hazy look to his eyes as he glared at Bucky.

“Knew you’d be a lightweight,” Bucky grinned.

“I had three drinks,” Gale protested.

“You had three beers,” Bucky corrected, and then proudly declared. “I had three drinks, and three beers.”

“Well, you’ve had more practice,” Gale grumbled as he sat up, swaying slightly.

“It’d be easy to get you more of that,” Bucky pointed out.

Gale shook his head, “Absolutely not. This,” he gestured to himself, “was a one-time thing. Don’t know why I even agreed to it.”

Bucky pouted at him.

“’Cause you forgot it was Curt’s birthday and told him you’d do whatever he wanted,” Bucky helpfully supplied.

“And he’s an asshole,” Gale stated, the seriousness of his tone making Bucky bark out a laugh.

“He just wanted to see you let loose, Buck,” Bucky defended. “Can’t blame him.”

“Well, if he’d let me let loose with three ginger beers instead, we’d both still be at his birthday celebration.” Gale pulls his tie loose and out from under his collar. “You could still be there you know.”

“And let a beautiful thing like you walk back to base drunk, all by your lonesome,” Bucky puts a hand to chest, mock offended. “What kind of a gentleman do you take me for?”

Gale throws his tie at him and gives him his best glare, but Bucky can see the smile trying to pull at his lips.

Bucky watches as Gale leans forward and then sits right back up, eyes closed.

“You good?” Bucky questioned, leaning forward himself.

“Now I see why you always need my help getting your boots off when you come back drunk,” Gale swallows heavily.

“Can’t even untie your shoes, John, how are you going to fly a plane,” Bucky does his best impression of Gale’s low voice, even as he’s getting to his knees and reaching for Gale’s left foot. “Not so competent now, are ya Buck?”

A hand swats at the top of his head and he ducks, laughing all the while. It feels good to laugh with Gale.

He unlaces Gale’s left shoe and then his right, waits a moment for the other man to toe them off and then decides to complete the process when Gale remains loopy and unhelpful above him.

He goes to grab Gale’s left calf to pull his leg up off the ground and give himself leverage to remove his shoe, but as soon as his fingers grips the toned calf, Gale chokes out a sound that Bucky’s never heard before and jerks his leg out of Bucky’s grasp.

Bucky reels back, worried that he hurt him, worried that Gale’s been hiding some invisible injury from him as he scrambles to his feet. But when he looks down at Gale, he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. He looks like he wants to die of embarrassment.

“What the hell was that?”

“Nothing,” Gale tells him, ducking his head.

He thinks back on the noise again. It wasn’t pain he’d heard now that he really thinks about it. It almost sounded like a laugh. Not Gale’s usual quiet huffs when he finds something amusing and not quite the loud bark of belly laughter that Bucky’s only managed to get out of him once, but a cross between the two.

Bucky narrows his eyes at him.

“You’re ticklish,” he accuses.

“M’not,” Gale denies, a little too quickly, and Bucky grins.

“You are!” He declares and then he goes back to his knees so fast, Gale doesn’t have a chance to stop him in his slowed, inebriated state. He gets his hand around Gale’s left calf again, digs his fingers in and delights as Gale giggles.

He keeps his grip strong as Gale attempts to pull his leg away and delights in the laughter erupting from Gale. He’s never seen anything like it. It’s adorable.

“Bucky,” Gale chokes out between laughs, “Bucky, stop. John, STOP.”

Bucky relents and lets go, sits back on his heels and watches Gale wipe tears from his eyes. When Gale looks down at him, he gives him his most innocent grin.

“You’re a jackass,” Gale grumps at him.

“I’m your jackass though,” Bucky smiles.

“You guys are so fucking weird,” Curt grumbles from the doorway. They both startle and look his way.

“How long have you been standing there?” Gale asks, face heating.

“Too fuckin’ long,” Curt grumbles. “Come on Bucky, my birthday ain’t over yet and you owe me a game of darts.” He walks back out the door and Bucky smiles sheepishly at Gale. Thankful the worst he’d been caught doing was tickling his best friend.

“Hey, at least I went the gentlemanly way and tried to take off your shoes instead of your pants, right?”

“Get outta here,” Gale swats at him, but he’s smiling so Bucky is too.

[copperbezel]

Zephyr Slip

At the end of last year, before I'd begun working on Bit Cobalt, I ran into some paleoart of Austroraptor, a dromaeosaur (raptor) from Argentina. Austroraptor is one of the largest dromaeosaurs, with a long, narrow, Big Bird snoot, conical teeth that probably point to fishing, and small forelimbs, as well as leg proportions that hint at a runner. Much of the paleoart I saw depicted Austroraptor in waterbird colors, which gave it a soft and friendly appearance, immediately my new favorite dinosaur.

So I drew an Austroraptor and then a robotic one, adding a quail topknot or ahoge feather, and started to think about making a transforming figure that would change from this animal into a humanoid robot. But a transformation from cute robot girl to cute robot girl, except one of them is a dinosaur, seemed a bit redundant, and there would be compromises in both directions that would detract rather than add.

But a couple of months later, I saw a particular motor scooter and something clicked, and the game was on. I love motor scooters, and they're a fantastic accessory for other figures on the shelf. I went through two foamcore prototypes to nail down the transformation, making it as simple and sturdy as I could manage and making sure both modes would scale well with other 1/12 scale figures.

I also started collecting some reference images for details I could nab and integrate, and to nail down the scaling of the scooter.

After I had something that worked, I drew up some concept art for both modes and started modeling. I was able to streamline the design a couple of steps further in the 3D model, and then it was all carving up shapes, fine tuning, etc. Probably the longest phase of modeling was after I had my model roughed out into shape, but needed to build the joints, firm up the edges, define all the contact surfaces, and apply subdivision surfaces. I found it useful to rig the model and set a couple of animation steps in Blender for the two modes so I could simply page back and forth between them.

I had to set the design on the back burner while I worked out the kinks with my 3D printer and built my last couple of projects. Then I made a test print to identify any trouble spots, and after a couple of tweaks to get the feel right, it was time to print and finish the real thing. Zephyr Slip is the first thing I've printed in "color", and thanks to some dyes I need to experiment with more, she won't be the last. That means a much more durable finish for parts that have to slide against one another or clip into place. I did add a gloss coat to some surfaces of the black elements, but it shouldn't show chipping much. (Unlike the kickstand, thanks to my terrible decision to paint its feet.)

Like my previous figures, Zephyr's eyes (and console) are just printed gloss paper under a coat of gloss varnish, and her headlights and taillights have some clear resin poured in over the paint and cured into place for lenses.  Cutting plastic windows like the ones on my Vertigo GT for the lower headlights didn't have the same effect, so they got the same clear resin treatment. The decal designs themselves were made in Blender, because I've given up on Inkscape's interface, but I think they came out okay.

The joints are almost exclusively 3mm ABS rods, although her hip joints are Kotobukiya Hexa Gear joints, which gave me a sturdy pin and hinge in a compact package and without visible pegs. I'm looking into options to make the pegs show less while being easy to remove for the construction and painting process. Despite some care with the tolerances, I did have to widen some peg holes and mush some pegs during assembly to get her pose well and snap together tight into either mode. But everything does clip solidly into place, resulting in a really playable figure. 

As my first fully transforming figure and also my largest, Zephyr Slip is definitely the biggest figure project I've tackled so far, and I'm extremely happy with the results. Posability is probably her weakest area, but she can pounce and emote, and with her solid handfeel and satisfyingly snappy transformation, I'm happy with the design. 

Paleontologically, I've followed most of the proportions of the real animal, although her torso should be a little bit longer, and her tail half again as long. She should also have visible first fingers, and I'm playing into the paleoart meme of bare snouts on dromaeosaurs that shouldn't have them. The proportion of thigh to shin is exaggerated, and the tail should have some left-right sway even if it's inflexible in the vertical axis. But it pleases me that she is both a roughly accurately scaled Austroraptor, and also a fairly realistically scaled scooter (if a bit chunky).

As always, due credit to @aprilpowered and Workbenchmaniac for support and feedback along the way, as well as Nemocyte (Tumblr | Twitter), whose feedback helped me to work out (among other things) the articulation needs of a theropod figure, something I'd never had to think about before.

[marigolddove]

Love Begins With Murder, Believe it or Not.

Part Two

Request by: @yandere-dark-cupid

This chapter has a lot of Eddie x Frank, I got a bit carried away I just love them, you do meet Wally by the end though so don't worry, and if there needs to be a part 4 there will be I'm loving this fic the more I roll with it as I am.

Also, as I write I imagine these characters as human but I've been trying to keep them neutral in their descriptions so you guys can still view them as puppets, I describe Eddie having steel-blue eyes but other than that I keep the rest neutral.

Warnings: Mentions to homophobia, but super briefly, a little bit of cursing, Eddie and Frank being too cute for this world.

@elegantkidfansoul, @sunkyss, @all-things-fandomstuck, @sailorsimp13, @cricketsjunk

💀♥️💀

"Do you think we're in danger now?" Frank asks, squeezing Eddie's hand as they rest their head against his shoulder.

"Probably." He answers simply, a shrug in his shoulders that gently jostles Frank's head a little.

"So…what do you think we should do? I don't want to separate, but I also don't want anything bad to happen to you."

Suddenly Eddie shifts, causing Frank's head to fall from his shoulder; but he's quick to catch their head, gently cupping their face as he turns Frank to look at him directly. So much affection and determination in his eyes it makes Frank's stomach flip.

"Ain't nothing gonna happen to me, don't you worry. We won't have to separate, everyone else can just fuck off." Frank flushes at Eddie's language, it isn't often he'll cuss especially in front of Frank, he claimed it's because his 'momma raised him better than that' which was laughable coming from a man who's certainly killed before.

"It's like Julie said, Wally's gonna take care of it and in the meantime we just gotta keep our heads down; we'll be just fine, I know it." Goodness his eyes are so pretty, Frank's face turns impossibly redder as he stares into Eddie's glittering steel-blue eyes.

Eddie's eyes dart across Frank's face, taking in his flushed state, feeling the heat radiating under his hands still tenderly holding Frank's cheeks; he smirks, eyes half closing as he gazes back into Frank's darker irises. He's inching closer now, he hears his sweetheart's breath hitch, so close—

"Excuse me."

Frank squeaks at the sudden intrusion and scrambles back, away from Eddie to look down at the floor, hand covering their mouth.

Eddie's eyes narrow at the stranger, irritated at the rude interruption. The person seems to grow visibly nervous at Eddie's sudden harsh gaze and they stutter, "I-I'm sorry, it's just–well, uhm, Mr. Darling asked to see you. Both of you. I just finished cleaning it and he wants you both–"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it: boss man wants to see us both, message received." Eddie interrupts, eyes becoming colder, "Go on then, get going.".

Without needing to be told twice, the subordinate turns and quickly walks away, leaving the two alone again. He sighs and looks to Frank, whose face is now hidden behind their hands and they curl in on themself a little, Eddie smiles and chuckles before leaning over and placing a soft kiss to their exposed ear, "Well, let's not keep Mr. Darlin' waiting too long, baby."

Frank internally cursed Eddie for his charm, this man would be the death of them.

So the two walk together to Wally's office, Eddie's hand possessively hovering against Frank's lower back most of the way there; this did nothing to help Frank's face and body to cool down.

Once at the door, Frank seems to freeze, visibly nervous. Eddie smiles warmly at them, removing his hand from their back to knock at the door. It was unlike Frank to be so uncertain and shaken, but he just chalked that up to the stress of their current predicament.

"Come in."

The two enter one after the other and awkwardly stand in the center of the room, the room looks and smells freshly cleaned; there's a bit of an ammonia and lemon smell in the air, it's abrasive to the senses.

"Shut the door, please, and sit down." Says Mr. Darling, gesturing to two chairs in front of the desk.

"Oh, uh, right! Sorry, boss." Eddie quickly turns and shuts the door as Frank has a seat, soon he follows.

He glances at his sweetheart seated to his left and is shocked to find that their entire demeanor has changed; now Frank sits, posture straight and stiff, one leg crossed over the other as their hands clutch their pants leg. Their face completely indifferent, if not for the redness of their ears and the stiffness of their shoulders you would never guess they feel uncomfortable at all.

"As you both know you're a bit compromised now, thanks to our loose lipped friend." Right to it, no 'Hello' or 'how are you', typical Wally, "Because of this I'm going to make a suggestion…well, it's not a suggestion. It's an order, really."

Here it is, Frank thinks to themself, suddenly feeling a little nauseous.

"You two need to move in together." Of cour–wait what?

"W-what?" Stutters Frank, their legs unfolding as they grip the arms of the chair and give Wally a startled look.

"I'm fine with that." Eddie states, clearly not as taken back as Frank, causing the latter to shoot him an incredulous look.

"B-but, we haven't even talked about that, a-and not to mention it's so soon and sudden!"

"It's not like you have to live together as a couple, I'm not telling you two to share a bed, I'm saying you need to stick close together at all times including out of work. Less likely one of you will get kidnapped that way." Wally says matter of factly, "The rat gave us the names of all the people he claims he told, and I've made some calls and dispatched Howdy to talk with that reporter, but just in case you two don't need to be alone at any point outside of this building."

"Since Frank already lives in this building, I'm offering you to stay here too. At least until this blows over." He says, looking at Eddie, "It's not just rival factions and reporters we need to look out for, even members of our own family could be…hateful towards your situation. I'd never hurt anyone for their opinion, but I do need to be sure I weed out any problem starters."

"You would really do that for us?" Eddie breathes, he knew Wally could be generous and kind when he wanted to be, he's just never really had it directed towards him. Not like this.

"Of course, you're family." He answers like it was a stupid question, which would usually cause Eddie to bristle a bit; but not this time.

Frank is speechless, they knew they could trust their friend; but some part of them had doubted, and now Frank feels a little ashamed for it.

"Now, this also means no more field work for you, Dear. I'm afraid you'll be assisting Frank with their work here in the building. Lots of paperwork and math." Eddie smiled at that.

"Well that don't sound too bad to me," He starts with a teasing lilt, glancing at Frank out of the corner of his eyes, "I'll have a mighty fine partner to teach me everything." This causes Frank to flush.

Wally, ignoring the obvious romantic tension between the two, "Good. If you had complained I would have had Barnaby throw you out whenever he returns." Ah, there's the guy that can really get under Eddie's skin.

"Now, I'm afraid there's also anothe–" A sudden string of knocks at the door catches their boss off guard, "Who is it?" He asks testilly.

"It's Julie, I'm back with the flowers." Everyone in the room visibly relax upon hearing the voice of their dearest friend.

"Come in, the door is unlocked."

Julie steps into the room and gently shuts the door behind her, cradling a colorful sunny bouquet; as soon as she sees Frank and Eddie she hesitates a little.

"Oh! Am I interrupting something?"

"I wouldn't invite you in if you were." Wally states, very blunt, but with a soft smile on his face, "In fact, your timing is perfect; now I won't need to have this conversation twice." He motions for Julie to come closer, she moves to stand beside Frank's chair, smiling at them before turning her attention back to Wally.

"So what's up?"

"'What's up' is that the woman whom our late member was dating is the very same woman who approached that reporter I sent Howdy to speak with. As it would turn out, the reporter was most likely Allison's idea, not Daniel's. Although, Daniel was still guilty for sharing secrets to rival gangs for money as well." Oh, so that was the guy's name, leave it to Wally to remember.

"So I got these flowers for nothing?" Julie deadpanned, not that the trip hadn't been nice, it felt domestic just going out and buying a bouquet; but still what a waste of precious time.

"Not for nothing, no. They're still very lovely to look at, besides I haven't decided what I want to do with the woman. She is just a civilian after all." He held out a hand, gesturing for Julie to give him the flowers, "These are a bit brighter and more colorful than I thought a bouquet should be for a grieving woman. I won't complain too much though, they're pretty."

"Y/N said they're supposed to mean something like: 'I'm thinking of you and I'm sorry for your grief' or something like that." Julie attempts to mimic your dreamy lilt when saying it, but realizes she's completely butchering it.

"Y/N? You're on a first name basis with the florist?"

"Oh! How are they doing? Did you tell them I said hello?" Both Wally and Eddie speak at the same time causing them to give each other a glare.

Julie ignores their behavior, "I did, they said they're doing well and they're very happy for you, they called you a sweetheart." She grins, "And I did end up getting that discount, thanks to you."

"Aw, shucks, well I'm glad they think so fondly of me. I'll need to give them a visit sometime, it's about time I bought you some new flowers anyhow." Eddie teased, flicking a finger at Frank, causing them to blush and stutter nonsense in response.

Wally sighs, "We're getting off topic now," he places the flowers down gently onto his desk, "Since Eddie is officially grounded from field work, and I'm not sure I can trust him to watch the woman who sold private information about him and his relationship, I'm sending you." He finishes by pointing to Julie.

"Alright, just tell me what to do."

"First, Eddie and Frank, you're dismissed, but do not leave the building. That is all, be safe." Wally waves his hand in a shooing motion.

Frank nods their head, "Thank you. For everything." And stands to leave, Eddie stood as well but pointed to the flowers.

"If you want those to last longer, put them in a vase with about two-thirds of water and add just a tiny bit of lemon juice or vinegar. Y/N taught me that after my third visit, said it'll make them last a little longer, it seemed to really work." Wally raises a brow at him, but Eddie turns and walks ahead of Frank, opening and holding the door for them before following behind and shutting the door.

Now that they were alone, Julie had something she wanted to ask him, so before he could start babbling about whatever assignment he was going to give her she spoke.

"So what's going on with you?" She deadpanned, clearly in no mood for nonsense or excuses.

But, in classic Wally fashion, he was going to dance around the subject anyway.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, I think that I've been handling things well so far, do you disapprove of something I've said or done?"

"Nope, only the fact that you're clearly upset and won't talk to anyone about it. Even me, and you always tell me." Wally seemed taken aback by her accusation.

"I am not upset, I don't–" "Cut the crap."

He narrows his eyes at her, she's treading on thin ice, but instead of backing down she crosses her arms, widens her stance and cocks a hip out. Her eyes silently daring him to keep it up; see what happens.

Wally remains silent, opting to swirve his chair as to face the wall behind him, trying to block her out.

"Your hair is a mess, your fingers have been twitching both times I've seen you today, you had a guy tortured in your personal office, Barnaby said you were tense with him and," He hears her move around the desk and rummage through something, most likely his waste bin, before suddenly she's holding the sketch book from before right in front of his face, "You ripped a piece you were working on and then threw the whole book out? You would never do that if you were okay."

He had been caught, of course he had been, this is Julie Joyful. Incredibly cocky, perceptive, charismatic and oh so caring. She would never let this go, and he knew he'd been caught the minute she glanced at his art book before.

He sighs and rubs his hands over his face and through his hair as she gently twists the chair to face her again. Once he's facing her again she steps back to lean against his desk, arms crossing once again as she stares at him, waiting for his response.

"I…I…" God, she doesn't seem to understand how difficult this is for him; but as if reading his mind she spoke again, softly.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me though."

He glances to the flowers on her left and takes a deep breath, "I…haven't been…feeling like me." He starts, quietly, "I don't know how else to put it other than that, I'm sorry. I guess I just feel off, I don't want to draw the way I used to and I don't know why." His tone became more frustrated as he continued, "I've been lacking inspiration, emotions used to inspire, friends used to inspire me. Now neither seems to be enough, I can't get a read on my emotions like I used to, and all of my friends and 'family' feel so…work related now? I don't know!"

"Hey, hey, calm down, it's all gonna be alright. There's nothing wrong with the way you feel, I guess it's been a really long time since any of us have just sat down and been just friends."

As if he didn't hear her at all he continued, "I only told Barnaby to fuck that guy up here because I thought it would inspire me, which, looking back, was pretty fucked up but it worked; at least for a little while, until it didn't anymore." Stress gripped his body, causing him to run his hands anxiously through his hair as if to fix it.

Julie placed a delicate hand on his elbow, "When was the last time you slept? Or took a break even?" Wally's brows furrow in thought and he realizes he couldn't remember the last time he'd done either.

"I'm…I'm not sure." He confessed, hands falling to his sides in defeat.

Suddenly Julie's hands were on his shoulders, shaking him a little to grab his attention; it works and he looks up at her, feeling at ease when she smiles at him.

"Howdy's with that reporter, Frank and Eddie are safe here, and I'm going to keep an eye on that lady like you want me to. All is well for now, so why don't you get those flowers in a vase and take a nap. You don't even have to leave your office if you don't want to, but you need at least a power nap."

He wordlessly shook his head all while Julie laughs and nods her head, "Yes you do, and don't you dare say you don't have the time. Make the time." Her tone left him no room for argument.

On her way out she very firmly told him to rest, and he wished her safety in return, as he did with all his family when dismissing them. So, that's how he ended up alone in his office, staring down at the flowers Julie had bought; technically he bought them since he still intends on giving her the money she spent on them, he didn't even think to ask her what they had cost.

He remembers what Eddie told him about keeping the flowers fresh, as pretty as they are he didn't really mind letting them die…although, a sudden pang of nostalgia changes his mind. Back when he first started art he would sketch and paint fruit, plants and flowers before he moved on to landscapes and portraits.

If he's going to nap, it wouldn't be in his office. Besides, he's sure he has at least one vase somewhere in his penthouse—it isn't exactly a penthouse, but it is the entirety of the top floor in the building he renovated for himself to live in.

With a sigh he straightens up his desk and grabs the bouquet, hesitating and deciding to also grab his sketchbook as well; then he makes his way to the elevator. He briefly wonders what floor Frank and Eddie are staying on, there aren't too many floors, but it occurs to him that he's never visited Frank before. They've been living in the same building as him for at least two years, and in two years he's never gone out of his way to even say hello to them or visit their apartment.

He'll need to make more of an effort to see his friends in order to get out of this rut he's in.

—————————

Meanwhile, fifteen minutes away, you're sitting behind the shop counter humming along to a song on the radio having already finished any pruning and inventory check ups, no one had come in after Julie for business reasons; there had been one visitor but they just wanted to look at the flowers. You didn't mind it, understanding the peace it brings just to look at and smell beautiful flowers.

Besides you'd had a busy period earlier in the week with a wedding you'd been booked to arrange flowers for. The bride wanted a lot of flowers, you were lucky you still had any inventory after she had her way with your shop.

You're stretching stiff joints while still sitting when the landline rings, you quickly lean over to lower the volume on the radio before answering the phone with a cheerful attitude.

"Hello, this is Y/N, here to help with your floral needs, how can I help you today?"

An all too familiar charming southern drawl greets her, "Hey'ya Y/N, it's Eddie." Your smile grows.

"Oh, hey Eddie! How've you been?"

"Great actually, thanks to you, I wanted to call ya to thank ya for helping out my friend Julie today; oh, and to let ya know I intend on stopping by next chance I get, gotta keep my darlin' stocked on flowers."

You laugh, "Goodness, I'm surprised they aren't drowning in flowers, last time you came in you bought three bouquets! And that was after buying one bouquet days before!" Twisting a piece of your hair, you keep an eye on the windows and door, it's nearly closing time.

"Well, in my defense they love flowers and it was our first date. I had a lot I wanted to say with your help." He's definitely got a big smile on his face on the other end.

"Haha, yeah a whole lot, you're a total sap. It's adorable though." You tease lightly, causing Eddie to exhale sharply through his nose.

"I think I'll bring them with me next time, that way they can pick out their own bouquet." Eddie's voice got a bit quiet at the end, as if he pulled away from the phone for a second, then his voice sounded close again, "Plus they'll get to meet you, I think you two would get along. Ya both like flowers a whole lot, I mean they like bugs I don't know how you feel about that…" His tone is teasing, you roll your eyes.

"That was one time, and it was a spider, they're arachnid's. I like bugs just fine."

"Good, good, so you two should get along just fine. I know I've only been around to buy flowers, but, uh, I owe a lot to you. You weren't my only supporter but sometimes ya need someone on the outside to give ya a kick in the ass…so, thank you, you encouraged me to 'shoot my shot'." You smile at his confession, elated to hear you made a difference in someone's life.

"Hey, I just arranged the flowers, you were the one with the right words. I just translated them into bouquets; but I'm glad things worked out for you."

"Oh, do you know if Julie's friend liked the flowers?" You ask.

"I think he did? It's hard to tell with that guy sometimes, but I think I remember him calling them 'pretty'."

You sigh, relieved the flowers were deemed appropriate, "I'm glad." Suddenly you hear another voice in the background on Eddie's end.

Eddie says something quietly to someone before returning to you, "I've gotta go, Frank's just finished dinner." Your heart soars at this news, are they're having dinner together, and Eddie claims you're partially to thank for it.

"Oh! Well don't let me keep you, have fun~." You tease, hanging up before he can reply.

You stand and stretch from the stool you'd been spending most of your day on, flipping the radio off before making your way to the front door, flipping the window sign from 'Open' to 'Closed'.

Finally, you reach to lock the door, but not before the handle turns and in walks a man with greasy slicked back hair, no taller than yourself; the doorbell rings from above as the two of you lock eyes, surprising one another. You're even more surprised to see he's holding a bouquet of Coral Roses, Marigolds and Blue Salvia.

[i-eat-deodorant]

Tell me about your onions.

here's an onion. i'm so funny.

ahem.

ok real talk though i've been doing a couple brief dives into the reincarnation aspect of buddhism/hinduism, which haven't been super applicable to COTL so far. which is a shame, bc it has such an interesting take on rebirth and resurrection within the nature of religion.

in COTL, death is seen as semi-permanent and a boon. lamb uses it to their advantage via the nature of game protagonists being able to restart from a save point when they died. the ritual of resurrection is groundbreaking for followers, and i headcanon that the ritual of rebirth is the main reason why TOWW got imprisoned. it is very much a loaded gun in the COTL world.

but buddhism treats rebirth as not only a nature of living, but something that needs to be escaped from. literally something that one must fight to be unshackled from, to break past samsara and reach ascension via nirvana. it's such an interesting viewpoint to consider and explore, especially bc my interpretation of lamb has them never being willing to become this resurrecting figure in the first place. as much as the red crown has been a boon for them, it's also acted as a bind. they will always have both their mortal and godly vices.

in both hinduism and buddhism there are multiple schools of thought that tackle the continuuity of resurrection, aka "what is carried over when one is reborn?"

now suppose narinder did not carry everything he had as TOWW to his mortal form. what is lost, and what is gained?

if i were to adapt samsara into my cotl fics i'd focus less on actual death and more on metaphorical ones. which, ok bear with me here, is a huge part of my personal philosophy.

humans are not static; we grow and develop, and in doing so we shed prior versions of ourselves like metamorphosis. a sort of ego death lite, if you will. when faced with a traumatic event, the person you once were is not the same as the person you are now. that is the kind of metaphorical death i'm talking about; the death of a former self.

but what exactly marks the new self and the old self? nothing, theoretically. we can make the boundary as low or as high as we want.

consider the ship of theseus: if a huge portion of my body is replaced every 7 years, can i definitely say i am who i was 7 years ago? what part of identity and self stays constant, when my personality's changed drastically? am i a stranger with the memories of someone else?

now narrow the boundary. if the self is physically static, then every time a cell dies, the self dies.

using that technical definition, technically i die and am reborn every single second. a metaphorical death and a metaphorical rebirth, and what gets carried over?

something something life and death are two sides of the coin of change.

that's why i kinda keep emphasizing lamb's impostor syndrome crisis about themselves dying in both soul and body during the execution. that's why i divide narinder's life into such stark epochs (mortal, bishop, imprisoned, mortal again). that's why i love treating their afterlife not as a continuity of their character development, but a second chance. ship of theseus, broken down and rebuilt anew.

it's not nirvana. but it's making the best out of your own personal samsara.

and just. there's something so poetic about narinder and lamb reincarnating as gods of death, because the only way to die repeatedly is to live again after each one. a taste of permanence in the impermanent, without ever reaching that finality that they embody as gods. they represent the very thing they are and aren't. it's a paradox that makes perfect sense the moment you remove the black-and-white boundary of life/death that dictates they must be opposites.

and this is what i love exploring. breaking down the barriers of identity and death in the metaphysical sense, in two characters who are defined by so much loss in their lives. (metaphorical) death, treated as redemption, treated as healing.

lamb, offering a hand up to a newly reborn narinder. i died, i got up, and i live.

[something-tofightfor]

Fool's Gold 4: The World Grows Brighter Here In My Hands

Pairing: Pirate Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (with a twist)

Rating: M for now - but that will change later.

Word Count: 8,854

Summary: Meeting Daavos' daughters in Tyrosh makes one thing very apparent to you: no matter what you know of him and despite the promises he's made, he has a life and a family to return to.

There is much more to learn about your own past, too - and Kaelys isn't the only one that has answers.

Author's Note: I've been sitting on this one for a while, so please forgive me for that. BUT, I hope you enjoy this part of their story, because it answers a few things.

If you want to talk about this story (or any of my others) please feel free to pop into my inbox or DMs!

Chapter title comes from "Bloom" by Caligula's Horse.

Fool's Gold Masterlist

You watched from your seat as he embraced both of the women - first separately and then together, their arms winding around him and holding tight. It didn’t draw the attention of anyone else in the tavern, and for that you were grateful. If those are his daughters, he won’t want everyone watching. 

Even you looked away eventually, letting your gaze roam around the room while you tried not to intrude on a personal moment. You were happy for Daavos, thrilled that he would get to spend time with two of his children, and wondered how you could slip away and give them privacy. 

He didn’t seem to want that, though.

You heard your name a few seconds later and then looked in the direction of his voice, smiling at the sight of his arm slung around one woman’s shoulders, his grin wide. “Meet two of my daughters. That is Obara, and this is Nymeria.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You stood, too, reaching out and offering your hand. “Your father speaks very highly of you.” He hadn’t told you much, but you’d heard in his voice that he loved his children, and even in the limited time you’d seen them together, you believed it. “You look so much alike. There is no question you’re related.” 

“Nope. There never was.” Nymeria squeezed your hand and then pulled herself away from Daavos, sitting down across from you. “How did you meet my father?” You appreciated how bold she was, but it didn’t surprise you, based on what you knew of him. 

“He rescued me from the Narrow Sea after my ship was attacked and went down “ You paused as Obara sat next to her sister and Daavos circled the table, sitting down next to you. Before you could move over to give him room, you felt his hand on your back, keeping you still. Oh. That is unexpected. “I …” Shaking your head, you shrugged your shoulders. “I drifted for two days, and then saw his ship, and the next thing I knew he was in the water and then in my raft.” 

“And you have been with him since?” Obara tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Without asking questions?”

“I had no choice.” You let out a breath. “It was either trust him and hs crew, or …” Biting your lip, you reached up to touch your face, the memory of the blisters that had been on your cheeks fresh. “Face certain death by myself.” 

“You made the right choice.” Daavos removed his hand and then leaned forward, reaching for his ale as he eyed his daughters. “She could not remember much of anything from her previous life, but as time passed, we were able to help her recall some things.” He sipped, eyeing the two women. “Coming here was our last option, and it was … beneficial.” 

“You remembered?” Nymeria leaned forward, her eyes bright. “Where are you from?”

“Braavos. And I was headed to Oldtown by way of King’s Landing to get married. My ship -”

“The dragon queen’s pets sank her ship.” Daavos cleared his throat, wrapping both hands around his drink. “She is even less able to control them than she was before.” The dragon queen? It’s not possible. She’s still in Essos.

You knew of the Targaryens and their history. You were aware of the fact that they’d ridden dragons. But the idea that the creatures were actually back again, and that one woman was responsible for them astounded you. But I saw them, so I know they exist.  “Well, she visited -” Obara jabbed her sister in the side with her elbow, the younger woman going silent immediately. “Were there any other survivors?”

“No.” Shaking your head, you pinched the bridge of your nose before you said anything else. “It was only me. And your father was gracious enough to welcome me aboard until I could figure out where I need to be. But now that I know…” You looked over, catching Daavos’ eye. “I do not have to rely on his kindness anymore.” 

You watched his expression fall - briefly - and the change in it was enough to make you wince. But it’s the truth. “So you’re going to Oldtown?” Obara leaned in, tapping her fingertips on the table. “To your husband?”

“They are not married, and she has not decided yet.” Daavos cut in, pushing his drink away and then lacing his fingers together. “I told her that we are sailing from Tyrosh to Dorne, and that she is welcome to come with us.” He took and held a deep breath, eyeing the other two women. “As my guest.” 

That had some significance to them, because they both seemed surprised, but you had no idea why that was the case. “But you haven’t been home in so long. What will E-” 

“Obara.” It was Nymeria’s turn to elbow her sister, the older woman’s scowl growing. “That’s not something you should worry about. He’s offered.” You were curious about what she was going to say, but at the same time, Obara’s words reminded you that even in the tavern in Tyrosh, you were intruding.

“It was nice to meet you.” You inhaled, closing your eyes. “But I should give you some time together to speak. It has been a long time, and -”

“You don’t have to go.” Daavos reached over, taking your arm as you stood up. “We can all -”

“Daavos, it’s fine.” You gestured to the women, who were watching the interaction closely. “I’d like to get myself cleaned up anyway. I’m sure there’s an inn here. I’ll rent a room and take a bath, maybe even change my clothes.” Holding up your hand and wiggling your fingers, you smiled. “Besides, you said no one would bother me if I was wearing this.” 

One of his daughters gasped, though you didn’t look away to see who it had been. It doesn’t matter. Nothing changes. “The inn is across the road.” Nymeria spoke up, softly saying your name. “And there are a few clothing stalls, too.” She leaned forward, grinning. “But if you’re going to Dorne, you might want to choose something lighter. It gets very warm there.” 

“There is plenty of Dornish clothing on the Sand Snake.” Daavos spoke up, his head tilted upward to look at you. “You don’t need to buy anything here.” You agreed with a single nod and then stared at him for a few seconds before looking away. Go. Give them time. “Please be careful. Come back if -”

“Don’t worry about me.” You arched a brow. “I’ll be fine.” He wanted to say something else, but chose not to. After saying goodnight to both women you turned away from the table and headed for the door, forcing yourself to keep walking until you’d exited out onto the street. 

Meeting the women had put things into perspective. Daavos had a life - and a family - to return to. You were a temporary disruption, and though he’d offered you the opportunity to continue traveling with him, you knew that in the long run, it wouldn’t be possible to remain. 

Staying near him was nothing more than a dream, especially with the knowledge about yourself that you’d gained earlier that day. You leaned against the wall and closed your eyes, trying to even out your breathing. The kiss you’d shared had been worth it, and you knew that you’d think back on it in the future. But a memory is all it can be. It cannot happen again. 

Opening your eyes, you turned to look up and down the street. You saw the inn right away, and made note of its location, reaching down to pat the small pouch at your waist. You had your coin - you just hoped that there was an open room. 

A few minutes later, you’d secured a room for a few hours, and were back on the street, looking for a way to pass time. 

The older woman behind the inn’s counter had explained that they’d need time to prepare your bathwater, and had suggested that you explore for a little while as they readied things for you. You’d agreed, slipping her a few extra copper coins as a thank you before heading back out into the late afternoon. 

It was still busy, and so you wandered back toward the docks, eyeing all of the places that you and Daavos had passed earlier. You stopped to look into a few windows, but the first thing that truly caught your eye was a carving etched into one of the stone walls. At the sight of it, you stopped in your tracks, eyes widening. 

Without pause, you reached into your pouch and pulled out the piece of metal, eyes moving between it and the building as your heart pounded in your chest. The symbols were the same - two four pointed stars, one inside the other, and when you looked closely, you saw a faintly etched arrow beneath them. I should follow it. I should … figure out what this means. 

You did, eyeing buildings and finding two more that had the same symbol and arrows hidden in the brickwork before reaching a third, that one with the symbol boldly carved into the wooden plaque that was mounted above the doorway. 

It was dangerous to enter, and you knew that Daavos wouldn’t have been happy that you were taking the risk, but you didn’t care. I came here for answers, and this is … my best chance at getting them. 

Taking a deep breath and straightening your shoulders, you gripped the door handle … and then pushed it open. 

The room wasn’t as small or crowded as the one in Kaelys’ shop, but it was still full, and in the moments before anyone appeared to greet you, you spun in a complete circle. You were surrounded by traveling supplies - rope and crates, cloth sheets and navigational materials. It all looked like it would have been at home on a ship, and for a few seconds, you wondered if that was why you had the symbol with you. Maybe one of my parents thought … 

“I am Nalia and this is Carn. How can we help you?” Turning, you saw a young man and a woman about his age just inside the doorway opposite the main entry. “Are you looking for supplies?” 

“No.” Wetting your lips, you took - and held - a breath, steeling yourself to continue. “I’m looking for answers.” You reached back into the pouch and pulled the metal out, holding it up. “I ran into some trouble on the water, and lost my memories. This was with my belongings, but I don’t know what it means or where I got it from.” The woman stepped forward, holding her hand out so that you could pass it to her. “I saw the same thing on the wall outside, and followed the arrows. I just … I need to know what it is.” 

She turned it over in her hands and then reached to give it to the man, but neither of them spoke right away. Instead, they studied your trinket, passing it back and forth, Nalia attempting to bend it. 

You didn’t know what to think, and had just opened your mouth to ask for it back so that you could leave when she turned to face you, her smile wide. “The good news is that if you have one of these, it means that someone cares for you enough to help you.” What? She handed it back to you, using her hand to curl your fingers closed around it. “The bad news is that you have it in the first place.” 

“But what is it? How is it good and bad that I have it? I don’t understand.” Carn spoke then, moving to stand next to the woman before he rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it.

“You can only get these from certain sailors and dockworkers in the Seven Kingdoms and Essos. They… we use them to identify people that are looking to…” He sighed, lifting a hand and making a noncommittal gesture.  “Disappear.” 

“What?” You looked down at the metal, frowning. “What do -”

“They are costly. You must have had someone who cared about you a great deal that helped you get that.” He cleared his throat, turning back to his partner briefly before settling his gaze on you. “They are costly because there are so few of them.”

“What do you mean disappear?” Your heartbeat was erratic, and despite your apprehension, you stepped forward, clutching the metal. “How can …” You trailed off, the memory of Wyllam vibrant in your mind. He gave it to me. The last time we saw each other, he … “A friend gave this to me. He told me to … to trust the people I met to help me, and …” 

“Men and women have used these to begin new lives.” The woman gestured for you to come closer, and then she led you to a cluster of seats, waiting until you sat to continue. “There is a group of people across the world entrusted with helping people get out of situations that they do not wish to be in, and my brother and I are part of that group.” She pointed at your hand, one corner of the metal visible between your fingers. “If someone went to the trouble of getting that for you, then you must have needed it.” 

Her words rang true to you, and the longer you thought about it, the more you realized that there had been a plan in motion even before you’d sailed away from Braavos, bits and pieces of conversations with Wyllam coming back to you. I was going to use it in King’s Landing. It would have been my only option. “So if I give this to you, you can just …” Chewing on your lip, you sighed. “Take me away from everything?”

“Yes.” Carn cut in, nodding. “That is exactly what we do.” He cleared his throat, putting one hand on his hip. “We’ll need to know a few things about you and where you’re supposed to end up, just so we can choose a plan that will ensure your safety, but -”

“I don’t know that I’m going to use it.” You tightened your grip, lowering your gaze to your hand. “I’m … already off-schedule. I may not need to. No one … no one knows that I’m here or that I have it or what it is, so it might not be necessary.” 

“No one knows that you have it?” She leaned closer, her eyes on you. “How did you get here?’

“On another ship.” You twisted the ring on your finger, briefly glancing at it. “The crewmen I asked didn’t know what it meant.” That didn’t make any sense to you. If the metal was currency and was used by sailors, someone on Daavos’ ship should have known. And if he’s such a well-traveled man, he should have known too. “How long … how long does it take to plan escape?” 

“Two or three days?” Carn spread his hands apart. “Less if we do not send you by ship and only need to arrange land travel.” I don’t think we’ll be here that long. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you looked around the room, thinking. “We have a room for you to stay in if you feel unsafe while you wait. It is open at the moment.” 

The reality of your situation set in with those words. You didn’t remember all of it, but it was likely that you’d known how the process of getting you out of your arrangement worked before you’d left Braavos. It was even likelier that you’d known before Wyllam had begun the hardship of getting you the token. And that means that I was prepared to do this. Even though it meant abandoning my family and my responsibilities and -

“You don’t have to choose tight now.” Nalia reached for you, setting her hand over yours. “We are here. As long as there is no urgency in your situation, you can think this through.” She gave you a kind smile. “Most of the people that come to us for this purpose are not so fortunate.” 

“Thank you.” You stood abruptly, pulling your hand away. “Thank you for explaining this. I need to get back to the ship. I need to…” Uncurling your fingers, you looked at the metal and then shook your head. “I need to decide.” You took a few steps toward the door and then stopped, turning to look at Nalia and her brother. “Would I need to use this token here? Or could I use it from another port. Somewhere like Dorne, maybe?”

“Dorne is an option.” Carn cleared his throat. “There is someone in Planky Town that can help you.” That makes things … easier. There was nothing more for you to say, and so you exited the shop onto the street, gasping for breath as you leaned against the opposite wall. 

Of all the things you’d learned since waking up on the Sand Snake, the fact that you’d been involved in planning your own escape was the most rattling. You’d spent the previous days convincing yourself - and Daavos - that you needed to continue to Oldtown to honor the commitment your family had made with Perle because it was the right thing to do. I told him there was no choice, but I was wrong. 

You slipped the metal back into your bag and straightened up, turning back in the direction of the inn - and the waiting hot bath. It will help. It will give me time to think. 

— 

It did. The steaming water was lightly fragranced with some sort of flowers that you didn’t recognize, and when you lowered yourself into it, you actually moaned, the warmth enveloping you and giving you true comfort. 

You let your mind drift, thoughts jumping from your parents and home and Wyllam to the Sea Spider and the dragons before it flipped to Daavos - the man emerging from the sea and falling into your raft like a beacon of hope and then being the first person you saw after waking up on his ship. 

The moments you’d spent with him and his crew replayed then, each conversation clearer than the last and linked by one defining thread: he’d wanted you to remember your past before making decisions about the future, and he’d given you choice after choice for what was likely the first time in your life. 

You hadn’t truly been abused or neglected, and you hadn’t been forced to work hard or struggle for survival in Braavos. But you had been burdened with the expectations of your family name and business, and the fact that you were even on the ship to King’s Landing was proof that at least before leaving Essos, you hadn’t defied your parents outright. 

You had the token from Wyllam, and that meant that choosing to use it was up to you. It would have made more sense to disappear in Westeros, a continent where few knew you and even fewer would look - where kingdoms were at war with each other on a daily basis, and the task of finding one woman among them would be of smaller significance. But not for Perle. He was promised a wife and a dowry and … 

You lowered yourself beneath the surface of the water, wincing as it made contact with the still-healing wound on the back of your head - and then you screamed, the sound loud to you, but hopefully muffled to everyone else that might be listening. 

It was all you could think to do, and when you surfaced, gasping for breath, you felt better. Daavos wouldn’t stop you if you chose to leave - you were sure of it. If you told him you were going to Oldtown, you thought that he’d push back, though you knew he wouldn’t keep you captive on the ship. But what if I use the token? Would he stop me then? 

Covering your face with both hands, you took three deep breaths, trying to calm your mind. You were thankful for the bath, and the opportunity to think clearly, but if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted nothing more than to be back on the ship with Daavos. Even though he might not be back until late. 

That thought gave you the motivation to finish your bath - carefully working your fingers and some soap through your hair and cleaning your skin off with a towel before you got out and dried off. You didn’t change clothes, though, instead slipping the ones you’d arrived in back on before exiting the room and heading for the street. 

You didn’t make it far before you heard your name called out once, followed by a second time moments later. “Nymeria? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” She inched closer, her arms crossed over her chest. “I just wanted to talk.” About what? “My father likes you.” She leaned against the wall, cocking her head to the right. “You know that, right?”

“He doesn’t know me.” You laughed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I barely know myself. And in a few days, it won’t matter anymore. We’ll go our separate ways, and that will be that.” 

“Are you going to Dorne with him?” She shifted her weight, still eyeing you. “I think you should. It will help you understand everything.” 

“Everything?” She nodded. “What more is there to understand about him?” She bit back a laugh, rolling her eyes. 

“The things I could tell you about him would fill volumes. A journey from Runestone to Dorne by ship is no time at all.” She smoothed a hand over her hair, her smile growing. “Though maybe the trip from Tyrosh to Dorne will be enough.” Nymeria pushed off of the wall and straightened up, nodding. “I hope to see you when we set sail.” 

It hadn’t even crossed your mind that Nymeria and Obara would sail with Daavos to Dorne, but it made sense. It will save them passage back. “We will see.” Swallowing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m going to go back to the ship now. It’s late, and I’ve had a busy day. I just want to sleep.” 

“Of course.” She nodded, gesturing toward the docks. “Goodnight.” You murmured the same back to her and then headed off in the direction of the ship, pausing long enough to stop and buy food and a small jug of pear brandy from one of the stalls lining the walkway. 

Part of you wished that you could have explored Tyrosh further - spending time mingling with the people you passed on the street and stopping to listen to the music or browse more of the shops. You didn’t feel as though you were in danger wandering by yourself, but as you got closer to the docks, you realized that the idea of being safely back on the ship was even more appealing than any time spent getting lost in the city. 

The crew welcomed you back on board, but you didn’t stop to speak to any of them. Instead, you headed for the room you’d been staying in and took a seat on the same chair Daavos had been in when you woke up for the first time. 

You sipped from the jug, staring across the room at Daavos’ desk and letting your thoughts drift. 

They didn’t drift for long, though, because they were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing from the doorway, followed by Daavos’ amused voice. “Did my desk do something to offend you? You’re staring at it like -”

“Oh!” His presence startled you, your fingers clutching the handle of the jug tighter. “No, I … I was just…” You blinked, attempting to focus. “My thoughts wandered.” He entered the room, both arms swinging by his sides, and you didn’t even try to look away. “I didn’t think you’d be back tonight. I assumed…”

“I didn’t plan on coming back tonight.” He held his hand out and you lifted the jug without hesitation, passing it to him and watching as he took a swig from it, tilting his head back to swallow. “But then I thought that you might want someone to talk to, and so I did.” 

He handed the jug back to you, but instead of drinking again, you settled it in your lap, staring up at him. He was right; you did want to talk. But will he be upset with me? After a few seconds of silence, you decided that it was worth the risk. 

 “I explored the city today. And I found …” You sighed. “I found a building with the same marking on it that’s on the token I carry.” Reaching for your bag, you pulled it out and held it up, waiting for Daavos to take it from you. “None of your crew knew what it meant. And I assume you don’t, either, because if you did, you would have said something sooner.” 

He took it, turning it over in his hands before he held it up to catch the light. “This is the only thing I have ever seen with these symbols, and I saw it for the first time the day I rescued you.” Locking eyes with you, he frowned. “What does it mean?” 

“That token can be used to make someone disappear. It’s for people like me who have expectations placed upon them, but don’t want to meet them.” It was more complicated than that, but Daavos only needed to know the basics. “Dockworkers and sailors are the only ones that can get these, and then they can be used in ports as payment. There is a group of -”

“So you were never going to go to Oldtown.” He closed his fingers around the metal briefly, and then held his hand out to you, waiting. “You carried this with you from Braavos. And that means… you were not going to follow through with the marriage contract.” 

“No, it means that I had the option to not follow through. It means that before I left, I had a friend get this for me, in case I decided that I didn’t want to marry Perle. But I -” You lowered your head. “I do not know if I would have actually used it. And now… I won’t ever know. They said I could use it to leave from Dorne, but -”

“Does that mean you’re going with me?” He stepped closer, his eyes widening. “Does that mean you accept my invitation?” 

“Daavos, I don’t… I don’t know.” You wanted to say yes. You wanted to tell him that you’d give it a chance - that even his daughter was championing the idea. “I can’t go with you to see your brother or to see your wife. That would be inappropriate, especially after we -” You cut yourself off, not wanting to let yourself get lost in the memory of his kiss. “After how -”

“After the kiss.” He lowered himself down to sit next to you, once again leaving space, though there wasn’t much room due to the size of the chair. “Why do you think that?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, instead leaning forward and removing his boots. 

“Because you’ve been gone for a long time. You can’t just show up with me when it comes to seeing your family. Meeting your daughters tonight was unexpected, but that was an accident. I wouldn’t do it on purpose. What would they think? Where would I stay? The ship?”

“My family’s home is quite large. There is plenty of room.” He laughed, scratching the side of his head. “To be truthful, me showing up with someone would not surprise anyone, especially my brother.” What? That makes no sense. Daavos took the jug again, sipping from it. “This is no Dornish wine, but it’s not bad.”

“I planned on drinking it while I ate, but instead…” You took it back from him and tipped it back, swallowing another mouthful. “Instead I’m just drinking.” 

“You’ve had a long day. It is understandable.” He moved closer, nudging you with his elbow. “Though you should eat. Sailing while feeling ill is never a pleasant experience.” 

“Sailing? When?” Turning your head, you locked eyes with him. “How soon are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow. I planned on staying longer but there is no reason to. My daughters will come with us, and it will only take a few days to reach Dorne.” That made your heart pound in your chest, because it meant that you needed to make a decision much faster than you’d anticipated. 

“They said I can use the token in Dorne. In Planky Town.” He frowned, the expression crossing his features and then disappearing. “So I guess I can decide then.” But what if that’s not where we’re going? “Unless we’re not sailing there. There are other ports in Dorne, and if you’re going to one of them, I can just stay here and -”

“We are going to Sunspear.” He reached over, settling a hand on your knee. “Planky Town is very close.” That was a relief, but what was even more of a relief was that he didn’t remove his hand. Instead, Daavos’ fingers moved back and forth, the motion soothing. “Come with me.” He leaned in, nodding. “Let me show you my home.” 

Looking down, you focused on the movement of his hand, syncing your breaths with each swipe of his thumb. He was comfortable with touching you and being close, and that hadn’t changed when his daughters were present. He’d asked for your trust multiple times since you’d first met, and he’d never broken it. Why would he now? 

“Yes. I’ll go to Dorne with you, Daavos. I’d love to see your home and learn more about you.” You took a deep breath, covering his hand with yours. “And then, if I choose to move on -”

“I will escort you to the people that will help you myself.” Flipping his hand over, he wrapped his fingers around yours, the press of his palm adding weight to the words he spoke. “But I do not think it will come to that.” 

“You’re so sure.” He laughed, squeezing your hand. “We’ll see.” You stared at your joined hands again, watching as Daavos dragged his thumb over the ring you wore. Oh. I should give that back to him. “No one bothered me tonight.” Murmuring the words, you inched closer until your leg was pressed against his. “They must have all seen that and decided it was not worth it.” 

“Maybe.” Daavos lifted your hands and brought them to his lips, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the place he’d just been touching. “Or maybe they just saw you and thought the better of it.” You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of that idea, but you couldn’t get the sound out. 

Daavos didn’t stop at kissing your middle knuckle, instead twisting your hand so that he could reach the tips of your fingers. Each of his exhales washed over your skin and sent goosebumps up your arm. What is he doing? You held your breath, though, unwilling to break the moment - until Daavo’s lips closed around the tip of your finger. 

You gasped then, and felt his smile, followed by the brief bite of his teeth against your skin. “I am sorry.” Raising his gaze, he met your eyes. “I could not help myself.” 

“Don’t apologize.” You couldn’t believe the words were coming out of your mouth, but you meant them. “It isn’t a good idea, but …” Letting out a shaky breath, you closed your eyes. “But I liked it.” 

“I did, too.” He hummed, the sound turning into your name. “May I tell you a secret?” You agreed, heart racing - and your mind running wild in anticipation. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for hours. It is rare that that is enough to stay with me for so long, but …” He lowered your hands and then reached for you with his free one, cupping your cheek with his broad palm. “I would very much like to do it again.” 

“What’s stopping you?” It was bold - bolder than you had ever imagined yourself to be. But it felt right with Daavos, and was not out of place with his own behavior. You eyed him, gaze wandering over his face and then down to linger on his exposed throat. “You’re certainly close enough.” 

“I did not want you to feel pressured.” He sighed, thumb rubbing gently over your lips. “Or like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Because we’re in a closed room and you’re just about the only person I know?” He nodded, his lips curved upward into a tiny smirk. “I am no stranger to kissing behind closed doors, Daavos.” He inhaled sharply at that, and before you could say anything else, he reacted, surging forward and kissing you hard. 

That kiss was nothing like the one outside Kaelys’ shop. 

He groaned against your mouth, Daavos’ lips pressed to yours with purpose, and that time, when you parted your lips for him, he didn’t pull away. He tasted of the brandy you’d shared - spiced honey and a faint fruitiness that lingered on your tongue. His hand slid into place so that he could hold the back of your neck, and you felt him pull his other hand free, moving it to your side and curling his fingers inward. You were caught between him and the chair back, and there was nowhere you would have rather been. Touch him. Touch him now because you may not get the chance again. 

You gripped his hair, the curls slipping between your fingers, and when your other hand slid beneath the bottom hem of his shirt, you heard and felt him moan, his skin hot to the touch. It was wrong, but in the moment you didn’t care. The only things that mattered were you and Daavos, and the fact that you were alone together. And we both want this. 

When he pulled away long enough to breathe, you shivered, easing your grip on his hair and dropping your hand to his shoulder. “I wish you’d done that earlier.” You spoke without thinking, the words a surprise to you, even though they were true. “That was -” 

“I wish I had, too.” He murmured the words and then kissed you again, drawing your lower lip between his and then releasing it, his mouth trailing over your skin. “Are you comfortable?” You weren’t - your body was twisted so that you were closer to him, and the arm of the chair was digging into your back and side. 

“No.” As soon as you said it, he backed off, and you felt yourself deflate. Oh, no. “Not because of you, because of -”

“The chair?” He arched a brow, his smile growing. “It is small, isn’t it.” Daavos stood then, holding a hand out to you and waiting for you to take it. “The bed will be much better.” You agreed, and while a large part of you wanted to agree out loud, you hesitated. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, and Daavos quietly said your name, urging you to stand. “Remember what I told you?” He pulled you closer, winding his arms around you. “Only what you want to happen.” 

“I’ve been with a man before.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you thought of Wyllam. “More than a few times. I just -”

“The man who gave you the token?” You nodded, turning your head to rest it against Daavos’ chest. “Did you love him?” It was a question that no one had ever asked you before, and one that you hadn’t let yourself contemplate. 

“We couldn’t think that way.” Pressing your palms to his back, you sighed. “We cared for each other. We were friends, and I trusted him. But we couldn’t be together. There was never going to be a happy ending for us, so there was no point in imagining one.” 

“He must have loved you.” Daavos kissed your hair, one hand moving back and forth over your shoulders, the other settled against one hip. “To have gone through the trouble of giving you a way to escape.” He was right - and for the first time since you’d woken up on the Sand Snake, the weight of what you’d experienced overwhelmed you. 

He caught you as your knees buckled, and then helped you the short distance to the bed, easing you down so that you could both sit. You clung to him, crying hard, and for a long time, neither of you spoke. 

Wyllam’s feelings for you had been clear long before you’d had the conversation with him about going to Oldtown. The two of you had spent as much time together as was possible, and you could still recall the way his face had fallen once you’d told him what was happening. He’d been the one to bring up the escape token, letting you know that if you could pay, one could be found. 

He’d come through in the days just before your departure, handing you the small piece of metal just after you’d both redressed, the candle flames flickering across his features as he reminded you that you had a choice, no matter what you were told was expected of you. 

“I think he did.” You spoke quietly, wiping your tears away with the back of one finger. “He wanted me to be safe. And if he couldn’t keep me safe, at least he knew that there was a chance I’d find a way to keep myself safe.” 

“I’m not him.” Daavos sat up straight, urging you to turn and look at him. “But I can promise you that as long as you are with me, you are safe.” But I can’t be with you. Even if I stay in Dorne, we’re not going to be together. “Listen to me. You do not have to go to Oldtown. You do not have to marry that man to fulfill a contract. You do not have to do what your family wants you to do.” 

“You’re going back because your brother needs you.” Sniffling, you blinked a few times. “After how many years at sea? Family is -”

“There is a difference.” His expression hardened briefly, and then softened back into an easy smile. “It’s time. I miss my family. I miss my home. I’m choosing to go back because he asked me to, not because he is forcing me.” Daavos moved to lean against the headboard and then held his arms out to you, waiting. 

You only hesitated briefly before scrambling up and into them, leaning your head against the front of his shoulder and slinging an arm around his body. Your parents would have been ashamed at your behavior, but in the moment you didn’t care. He’s offering comfort, and I need it desperately. “I’m sorry I ruined things.” He stroked your hair, the motion of his hand soothing. “I’m sure that a crying woman isn’t something you find -”

“You ruined nothing.” Daavos sighed. “I got carried away. As much as I would like to take you to bed, there are things that must happen before then.” Like what? “For example, there is no moon tea on the ship.” He laughed at your gasp, but didn’t wait long to continue. “I already have children, but you do not. And taking the risk is … unwise.” 

You’d assumed that marrying Perle meant that within a year or two, it was inevitable you’d be heavy with his child. It was what was expected, and as a wife to a lord, that was another expectation placed upon you. You and Wyllam had been careful, but based on Daavos’ own admission, he wasn’t always. And I certainly couldn’t risk going to Oldtown and finding out months later that I was … 

“It is unwise.” It disappointed you more than you wanted to admit to say it. “Thank you for thinking of that” 

“Of course.” The hand on your hip moved up, pushing your shirt with it. You sighed at the touch of his fingers to your skin, moving even closer. For the next few minutes, you were both quiet, your attention focused on the beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek. 

You could have fallen asleep - you wanted to, because despite the uncertain future you faced, Daavos seemed just as content as you were to stay in bed with you. 

His hand kept moving, the tips of his fingers trailing over your skin and tracing patterns against it, the brush of them making your skin tingle. “Daavos?” He hummed, waiting for you to go on. “What … would me remaining in Dorne be like?” 

His hand stopped moving, and then it continued the same patterns as before, though he ventured higher on your back, exposing more of it to the cool night air in the bedroom. “You would be free to do as you wished.” He cleared his throat. “There is plenty of work to be found, especially in the orchards and markets. The Martells employ many types of people for many different purposes. You are educated, so it would not be difficult for you to find something.” He said your name and you looked up, meeting his eyes. “I could help you find work if that’s what you wanted, but you would … you would not have to work.” 

It seemed to good to be true. He was essentially offering you freedom, and the promise of living a life that wouldn’t rely on you struggling to survive. And he already offered me a place to stay, too. There’s no way it’s possible. Tilting your head, you looked up at him. “You’ll be busy. Your children and your wife will want to see you and be with you. Your brother will need your time. I am sure none of them would want me to be a -”

“You’d be surprised.” He grinned. “You’ll see. But if you chose to stay in Dorne - in Sunspear - I think you will find it an incredible place.” You could hear how much he loved his home as he spoke, and you wondered why he’d chosen to leave for so long. But everyone has their reasons, and he is no different. “My daughters were very interested in you.” He hummed out a laugh, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “They had many questions.”

“They can ask them the next time I see them.” You bit your lip, closing your eyes. “Since we’ll be on the same ship for the next few days, there’s plenty of time.” 

“There is.” He yawned then, the man’s chest expanding. “I hate to do this, but I think it’s time for me to go. Having you in my arms in this bed is entirely too relaxing.” You didn’t want him to leave. You were enjoying the way it felt to lay next to him, and the truth was that even though you knew it was best for him to go, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree. 

“You could stay.” Sitting up straight, you locked eyes with him. “I understand that my suggestion is very forward, and you have every reason to say no, but -”

“Is that what you want?” Daavos sat up, too, his hand dropping to the top of your thigh. “For me to spend the night with you?”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate, nodding as you spoke. “You’ve already told me that nothing will happen between us, so -”

“An unfortunate reality.” He winked, his smile widening. “I have missed this bed.” He was toying with you, but you didn’t mind, because it was putting you at ease. “And it is much too large for one person.” Without warning, Daavos unwound his arm from you and moved to stand, leaving you alone in the bed. He walked to the window and pushed the shutters most of the way closed, securing them. “This is not how I imagined this to go.” 

“What do you mean?” You reached down and removed your socks, balling them up and then setting them on the side table. “How did you imagine it to go?” 

“I did not think you would ask me to stay.” Daavos reached down, untucking his shirt from his pants and then unbuttoning it. “I saw the look on your face when I told you about… who is waiting for me at home.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “I thought you would need more time.” 

Dumbfounded, you didn’t speak as he turned away from you and shrugged the shirt off of his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. It was the first time you’d seen his bare back, and you couldn’t look away. Daavos was all toned muscle, his tanned skin rippling with each movement and stretched over his broad shoulders. There were faded scars, too, the silvery skin visible even in the flickering light of the lantern. 

For a moment, you wondered if he was going to get back into the bed without a shirt on. It would have been his right, and part of you wouldn’t have put it past him to tease you that way. But Instead, Daavos reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small key, using it to unlock the wardrobe that he stood in front of. Of course, his clothes are here. You caught a glimpse inside - eyes landing on what looked to be a long, yellow coat - and then the door shut again, Daavos turning to face you with a light-colored shirt in one hand. 

He grinned at the look on your face, and then bit his lower lip, stepping closer. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I -” Covering your face with one hand, you sighed. I’m caught.  “You know exactly why I’m looking at you the way I am.” Daavos’ laugh filled the room, and he spread his arms wide as he moved back toward the bed, cocking his head to the side. Your eyes were drawn to the scar on his abdomen, and before you could stop yourself, you lifted a hand and reached toward him. You stopped before you actually touched him though, gasping and curling your fingers inward. “I’m so sorry, I -” 

“No.” He took another step and then took your hand, urging it closer. “Please.” Your fingers shook but you let him guide you, and when you finally touched his skin, you felt him inhale sharply, his hold on your hand tightening. “I was lucky to survive it.” You traced the length of the scar, Daavos’ breathing even. “The person who gave it to me was not so lucky.” 

You looked up then, meeting his eyes. “Good.” Pressing your hand to his belly, you nodded. “I’m glad.” I mean it, too. What kind of person does that make me? He smiled again and then pulled the shirt on before reaching beneath it for the strings on his pants. “What are -”

“Just making them looser.” He finished and then looked down at you, blinking. “Do you need to use the commode before bed?” You didn’t, and told him as much, and when Daavos nodded, gesturing to the bed, you moved over to make room for him. He dimmed the lantern after securing it to the table, and then climbed in beside you.

You planned on leaving space between you, but when he spoke your name - quietly, his voice a low murmur, those plans dissolved. You let him pull you close, his arm winding around you as he eased himself onto his back so that you were resting against his chest. Daavos held you tightly, and both of you were quiet, the gentle motion of the rocking ship soothing you. 

“You must have so many stories.” Nuzzling against him, you kept your eyes closed. “From Dorne. From the Seas. From places like Tyrosh and The Three Sisters. You will have so much to tell your family when you get home.” 

There was a pause and then Daavos spoke, the rumble of his voice low. “What do you believe will happen when we get to Dorne? Do you think as soon as we’re back on land, I’m just going to set you off on your own?” Part of you did think that, because with the way he’d greeted his daughters and spoken about his wife, you knew there was nothing that would keep them apart once he was within reach of them. “In a strange land? Where you know no one but me and two of my daughters?”

“You’ve only known me for days. What you’ve done so far is more than I deserve. I’ll never be able to repay you.” You took and held a deep breath, thinking. “I cannot let myself get into more debt with you, Daavos.” 

“Don’t think of this as a debt.” He ran a hand over your back, urging you closer. “I am not keeping score.” His fingers curled against you, the motion of his hand slowing. “You will not be alone no matter how long you choose to stay in Dorne, and that is a promise.” 

You believed him. There was no reason to believe him, with as little as you knew about Daavos and his life off the ship. But I want to. And he seems so sure. There wasn’t anything else to say, and so you didn’t speak, instead focusing on the warmth of the man beside you. He’d opened up to you multiple times, and so you decided to give him something back, your quiet voice cutting through the darkness just before you dozed completely. 

“This is the first time I’ll spend the night with someone.” He froze - you felt it, Daavos’ body stiffening for a few beats of your heart before he relaxed again. 

“You said you’d been with a man before, how -”

“I could never stay with him.” You thought of Wyllem’s face again, his warm smile and kind eyes, and the way he’d looked crestfallen every time you’d had to get dressed and leave him to go back home. “We stole moments together… hours, sometimes, but it was never a full night. We never had the opportunity.” 

“That is a shame.” He eased his arm from beneath you and then rolled onto his side so that he could face you, one hand rising so that he could trail his knuckles along your hairline. “There is nothing like waking up next to someone you care for.” He inched forward, head angled so that he could kiss you. It wasn’t long or deep, and he smiled through it, Daavos nodding as he backed away. “Or, at the very least, someone you think you could care for.” 

He’d backtracked, but you knew that it was for your benefit. He’s trying to protect my feelings. He doesn’t want me to think he assumes anything. “I’ll tell you if that’s true tomorrow.” His eyes widened, but his smile was genuine, even though it was partially obscured by the pillow. “I do care for you, Daavos. And it’s not just because you rescued me.” 

“I look forward to your answer.” He shifted his lower body, hooking one leg over your calf. It surprised you, but when he continued, you heard the teasing in his tone. “We’ll need to get some sleep first, though.” 

“I find it very hard to believe that when you’re in bed with someone, you do a lot of sleeping.” His laugh was booming, Daavos turning his head so that the pillow helped to muffle the sound. “That proves it, I think.” 

“Maybe one day, you’ll find out.” He met your eyes again, one brow arched. “I’d be more than happy to actually prove you right.” It should have bothered you - how casual Daavos was about having a sexual relationship that wasn’t with the woman he was going home to. But the longer you spent with him, and the more he spoke about it, you believed that what he said was true. It makes no sense. But maybe … maybe it’s because he’s away so much. Maybe she has other men, too. 

You’d know soon enough - and so you chose not to say anything else, rolling so that your back was to his front. He waited until you got settled to scoot closer, pressing the entire length of his body against yours. When Daavos looped an arm over your side and then slipped his hand beneath the material of your shirt so that he could settle it in the space just above the waistband of your pants, you reacted immediately, too. 

Putting your hand over his, you didn’t expect a response. Daavos surprised you, widening the spread of his fingers so that you could slot yours with them - and you both fell asleep that way only minutes later. 

— 

[multimystica]

Card of the Day!

So, I'm not great with editing/design or with running social media but this is honest work so let's go! Take a deep breath and pick a card. If you want a personal reading message me here, leave an ask, or message me on my ig @multimistica (beware of spelling, it's spelled like that because my ig page is in portuguese) This reading is much more intense than I intended it to be, it may help to mentalize what you need advice on today to narrow down the meaning of your chosen card from the descriptions I've made below so your reading can be more precise.

Card 1 - X of Swords

Defeat. Peak of despair. This is pretty much rock bottom, there's nowhere to go but up. You might suffer some sort of tragic event today in which you feel defeated, like a martyr, broken beyond repair, or something of the like. It's like when something goes wrong in the worst way it possibly could. The message of this card is it can no longer get any worse than that, pick yourself up and move on. Dwelling in that is no use, move on (as hard as it may be). The depiction of this card is quite graphic, for those unfamiliar with it, here it is:

So help yourself, remove the swords, tend to your wounds and move on. Biggest advice with this card is to move on cause it's literally the worst it can get. The worst that could happen did happen, so after this it can't get any worst at all, and that's what brings relief about it. If this is rock bottom, and you're there and still alive, things can no longer get any worse, and it is in that you must find your peace and fucking FINALLY start healing and moving up, after this defeat things can FINALLY start to get better, even if a small bit at time. You've survived the worst, now you live on to see the best start coming.

Card 2 - II of Pentacles

Multitasking. There may be a lot on your plate right now, as you're dealing with lots of things. It's the kind of day where you're in a rush with a long list of tasks to finish, you have to get things done and you wish the day extra hours to accomodate all of that workload. This is also true in a figurative way, you might be having to deal with lots of emotions all over the place. The depiction of this card is literally a juggler:

It's certainly hard to deal with such workload, so if one or two tasks go unfinished today, that's okay, just keep doing your best at it. If this card speaks to you in the emotional sense, dealing with ups and downs or with indecisiveness, the advice is to try and work through said emotions in a healthy way as they come and go. Be it work-wise or emotionally wise, the biggest advice of this card is to set your priorities and work through them in order from the most important to the least. This card may also refer to financial decisions, in this sense it is imperative you pay attention to how you're spending your money, make sure you don't spend more than you earn, if you're already doing so, then it can mean one of two things (or even both): Be careful on your financial decisions (if you're investing in something rn it means a high risk), that is the first thing. The second thing is you're going to have to work hard. Remember, hard work is highly rewarded.

Card 3 - VII of Swords

Doing what serves your own ends, often in unethical ways. This card can mean a fuckaton of different things depending on your life's context right now and in a collective reading like this it might be hard to tell in which sense it applies to you, but I'll do my best. First of all, are you being unethical, sneaky, or dodgy in any way? If so, the message is simple, stop being a bitch and go look for a ethical way to get what you're going for, seriously. Be conscientious, do no harm, if you're dead set on something by unethical means there is certainly a better, more ethical way to get it and you must find it. If you're about to do harm to someone seeking justice, don't, let divine justice take place instead. Take a good look at this card:

With that out of the way, if you're not doing any sketchy shit right now, then BEWARE.

If you're in a relationship - Beware of cheating, betrayal, mind games, a stab on the back, broken trust, going behind your back, that kind of stuff coming from your partner.

If you're in a bad friend group - Beware of being backstabbed, of negative gossip, people betraying your trust, taking things from you, going behind your back or fucking you over somehow.

In the work/academic context - Beware of people stealing your work, stealing your ideas, erasing your name from a paper and putting theirs in, plagiarizing you, backstabbing you via the HR, planning a coup, or anything.

IN ANY CASE - Beware of two-faced people. Keep your guard up, protect your secrets, don't let anyone fuck you over in any way, beat the enemy at their own game.

It's really hard to see any positive trait in this card, the whole damn card is a huge red-flag for unethical stuff, and the worst part of it is that in the case of this card the asshole at hand is usually able to get away with it. You must stay alert and be smart.

Other than the whole vitriol of warnings this card brings to stay alert to those surrounding you is, if you have to make an escape out of something, this is the right time to do so. It's the time to take a risk. It's the time to be resourceful, to plan out your strategies, to be self-reliant, and to beat your enemy at their own game, really.

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

[ftm anon] i feel that thing about being judged for being a freak. i experience some shame over just how far out there things i am into. something i haven't been able to get out of my head is wanting a huge insect monster to trap me and feed me pollen from its mandibles that makes me feel dizzy and weak but that makes my cock and nipples go red and sensitive, as i'm unable to stop drinking. i think about them slowly inserting their ovipositor into my pussy, at first using their widening length to open me a little more, then pressing the thin tip to my cervix and pushing inside. they'd jerk me off to make me relax, and use another set of spindly arms to play with my nipples that are starting to slowly drip with fluid. and once i'm incomprehensible with pleasure, they'd anchor themself firmly into my womb and deposit their eggs into me. eggs that are a bit larger than a golf ball channeling straight to my womb, at first feeling like nothing, but of course they don't stop once my womb is full and i'm starting to feel that they're doing something. more start flowing in, faster now, and i can feel the eggs shifting around in me now as they press against the walls of my womb. the skin stretches to accommodate. once i have a small bulge, tiny but enough to see the round eggs shift over each other when i move, they release a sticky, thick, hot fluid that coats my whole inside and the eggs and makes me cum instantly. it's almost jelly-like as it begins to cool and they remove their ovipositor. i think that's it, but that isn't even half of their clutch, so they go for my ass next— not able to find a womb, so they settle for the cavity itself and pour more eggs in. This time they're low enough to be pressing on sensitive spots inside of me, and the two filled pockets create an intense sensation on my bladder. once again, they fill me twice over, and i can much better feel the way their sort of cum seals the eggs in as i don't lose any of them when the ovipositor exits my body. my stomach as stretched further, starting to look like i've eaten a meal too large except for the imprints of the eggs. then they shift around my body, able to use both hands now to play with my stiff and red cock as they force their ovipositor past my lips, easily gliding down my throat. It creates an indent on the outside as they meet root, deeper anything has ever been, and they release more eggs. I have no choice but to swallow around the appendage as tears roll down my face. I don't know how many I swallow, and I'm sure my stomach acid would dissolve them anyway, but i feel odd sensations deep in my body as their cum comes into contact with it. i can't tell what's happening though, all i know is that i feel too full. their clutch isn't even empty— they still have some left, so they search my body for more inhabitable holes. they find the tiny urethra just above my stuffed cunt and slowly begin to try and work their ovipositor in while i sway my head and try to beg them not to, but my words aren't coming out in one piece, and their ovipositor tip slowly glides through the narrow channel, a shorter trip as it reaches my bladder and starts to release the last of its eggs. this hurts the most, but the eggs inside of me are constantly pressing against my walls and stimulating the nerves between them. orgasms are unavoidable. they release their final few eggs, more of the gel to keep the eggs firm, and are finally finished. i'm stuffed to the brim, looking very full already, every part of my body taken up and used for breeding. i'd wait there, only being fed from their mandibles, sweet liquids that don't cause upset to my body and manage to keep alive as the eggs slowly expand to be baseball-sized, then softball-sized, far too much for my body to handle as my stomach goes from looking slightly too full to overly pregnant. every day i'm pleasured as a reward for being such a good receptacle for their brood, and my nipples swell up despite my chest being flat, leaking and making messes that the creature licks up, leading them to play with my swollen nipples.

.

[sequinsmile-x]

Home - Chapter Four

Revenge - (re·​venge: Noun.)

The action of hurting or harming someone in return for an injury or wrong suffered at their hands.

She'd been comfortable and safe for so long that she'd allowed herself how to forget how it felt to be afraid.

A sequel to The Way Home

-x-

Hi friends!

Look at that, two chapters in two weeks after a month of nothing.

This chapter is causing me great anxiety and is one of the reasons I put off updating for so long. It's one of the most dramatic/intense things I've written since the early WTB days and I hope I've done it justice. So, please let me know what you think - yelling is appropriate and acceptable.

-x-

Words: 2.5k

A full list of warnings can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She drops her phone. 

She’s barely outside the jailhouse as she tries to dig it out of her purse but in her desperation she drops it, growling in frustration as she watches it skip across the sidewalk. She chases it and picks it up, her hand shaking as she does so, her glee that her phone wasn’t shattered fleeting. She dials Aaron’s number, anxiety bubbling in her stomach as she listens to the phone ringing, her nausea threatening to overwhelm her. 

“Come on honey,” she says outloud to herself, her teeth pulling at the skin of her lower lip as she paces back and forth in front of the jailhouse, “Please pick up.”

It feels like an age before she hears his voice, and it’s enough to instantly calm her down, the fear Ian had purposely instilled in her fading. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Hi,”  she says, clearing her throat in a futile attempt to hide the shake in it, “Hi, I just got out.” 

There’s some movement on the other end of the line and she can picture him stepping away from Eleanor in case she wanted to talk about something neither of them wanted the little girl to overhear. Her innocence, the way she only saw light in the world, was precious to both of them. They knew it wouldn’t last forever, that they couldn’t protect her from everything her whole life, but they wanted to hold on to it for as long as they could. 

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” She laughs, shaking her head at herself as she sits down on a bench, blowing out a breath, “I don’t know,” she corrects herself, honest in a way she could only ever be with him, “That was…I don’t know.” 

She hated that Ian had been able to shake her even now, that he still had some power over her after so many years. She’d left quickly after his not-so-subtle implication that Foyet was after Aaron, walking out of the jail half convinced she’d call to find something had already happened, that her going to visit Ian had all been part of some plan she knew logically he was not capable of. But she knew Foyet was capable of it, she knew that from the news coverage of his crimes and from being married to the man who had prosecuted him, and maybe Ian’s time sharing a cell, and a common enemy, with him had changed him. 

Aaron had spent weeks looking at crime scene photos of Foyet’s victims, the worst he’d seen in his career so far, and familiarising himself with his MO in the lead-up to the trial. She knew it all too, a byproduct of wanting to support her husband in the way he’d always supported her during her harder cases when she was still a social worker. All of her fear since the prison break so far had been narrowed to the knowledge that Ian was free, nightmares and memories of a time she’d rather forget clouding her mind so it was all she could think about. Now she had seen Ian locked up, chained to the table she’d across him from, her mind had cleared enough for her to have the capacity for the other side of it. 

Foyet was out there somewhere, and he hated Aaron, his threats against him that had him removed from the courtroom in his own trial coming back to her all at once. 

“What did he say to you, Em?” He asks, his concern clear. She considers telling him. Considers sharing the load because she knows it will ease some of the pain in her chest, but she stops herself. Aaron was worried anyway, already having half convinced himself he’d put his family in danger by doing nothing other than his job. 

She couldn’t make it worse. She refused to do that to him. Ian had been messing with her, she was sure of it, and, as Aaron kept assuring her, every cop in the country had Foyet’s picture. He’d be caught sooner rather than later. 

“Nothing,” she says, “Nothing worth repeating right now anyway,” she blows out a steady breath, “Can I speak to Ellie?”

It’s an attempt to change the direction of the conversation and they both know it, but she knows he will have heard the catch in her throat as she said their daughter’s name. The fact that Ian knew about her, that he knew her name still made her blood run cold. She’d tell Aaron about that part later, well aware she wouldn’t be able to get any sleep until he knew, until he could reassure her that Ian couldn’t get anywhere near Eleanor. 

“Of course sweetheart,” he says, and she can picture the soft smile on his face, the very same one their daughter had, and she feels some more of the tension in her chest caused by seeing the ghost of her past, the monster in all of her closets. “Princess, do you want to speak to Mommy?”

Emily smiles as she hears her daughter yell on the other end of the phone, her excitement clear. She listens as Aaron tells her to be careful, not to run in the house, and she waits as the phone is passed to the little girl.  

“Hi, Mommy.” 

Emily closes her eyes and wipes the tear that falls down her cheek away, “Hi sweet girl,” she replies, “Are you having fun with Daddy?” 

“We’re having mac and cheese for dinner and Daddy said I can watch any movie I want,” Eleanor says, speaking so quickly her words trip over each other, “Are you coming home?”

“Not until after you go to bed,” she says, not missing the quiet, and disappointed whine from the little girl as she demands to know why she won’t be home, “I’m going to Aunt Haley’s, but I’ll be there in the morning when you wake up.” 

The gasp of excitement down the phone makes Emily smile, “Can I come with you?” 

“Sorry baby, you need to stay home with Daddy, ok? But you’re seeing Aunt Haley tomorrow remember? She’s taking you to the zoo,” there's a murmur of excitement again, “Now pass the phone back to Daddy and I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Ok Mommy, I love you,” 

“I love you too,” she replies, “So much.”

There’s a shuffle over the line again and she waits, smiling as she listens to Aaron tell Eleanor to go wait in the living room. “If you wanted to come straight home I’m sure Haley would understand.”

She chuckles and she knows he’s right. If she called Haley and said she wanted a night curled up with Aaron and Eleanor she’d understand, and for a moment she considers it. She thinks about going home and sitting between her husband and her daughter as they watched what she was sure would be The Lion King for the thousandth time, reminding herself what she had now. That she was no longer the terrified, 21-year-old who convinced herself she had to be alone for the benefit of herself and the people around her. She knows Haley needs her though, that her break up had affected her more than she’d admit, and Emily could put aside her own needs for one night. 

“I know she would, but I’m going to go,” she says, standing up from the bench she’d settled on and walking towards the car, “I’m going to listen as she talks about how much her ex sucks, and then she’ll talk about how much she wants you to get me pregnant again and she’ll send me home to have sex with you.”

Aaron laughs, bright and loud and beautiful and she can’t help but join in, “I wonder if it should be weirder that my ex-girlfriend and mother of my son is so invested in us having another kid.”

In another world, she’s sure it would be, but she and Aaron had now been together longer than he and Haley had been. Haley was a friend to both of them as well as Jack’s mom and Eleanor’s godmother. Their lives intertwined in a way Emily was certain would never be unpicked. 

“Probably,” she says, climbing into the car, “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home later.”

“Have fun, sweetheart.”  

She smiles, relaxing at the thought of an evening with her best friend. “I will.” 

___

She goes to the store first. She picks up some snacks and the wine she knows Haley likes and gets distracted by all the baby items in the clothing section. She stands there, her fingers lingering on the soft material of the tiny onesies as she swallows down treacherous hope. There was a moment a couple of years ago when she insisted she couldn’t go through it again, the losses she’d experienced before she had Eleanor, and the stress she’d felt throughout her pregnancy, enough to scare her into convincing herself she didn’t want any more children. She’d packed up all of the newborn clothes and toys from when Eleanor was small and given them to Haley to donate to the hospital she worked at. Now they were trying again, the thought of having another child a happy one yet no less scary, she wishes she’d kept at least some of the tiny little clothes Eleanor had spent her first weeks and months of life wearing. 

As she gets back into her car she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a shiver going down her spine as she feels like she’s being watched. It reminds her of her college days, of how she saw Ian standing on every corner - even when he wasn’t actually there. She looks around and doesn’t see anyone, and she shakes her head at herself, shaking her head as she clips her seatbelt in place. 

“You’re losing it,” she mutters to herself before driving the short journey to Haley’s house. It was only two blocks from her own home, something that had been very convenient when Jack was small. Their split custody of the boy made easier by the short walk between both of his homes. It was one she did now frequently with Eleanor too, the little girl's hand in her own as she talked animatedly about whatever fun plans she had with her Aunt Haley that day. 

When she arrives Emily groans, wanting nothing more than a glass of wine and a moan with her best friend, although she knows Haley won’t allow her to have the former. She feels the day starting to catch up with her, the reality of sitting opposite the man who had tried to kill her weighing heavily on her shoulders. Something spending time with her best friend, followed by an evening with her husband, would no doubt ease.

She reaches into her pocket to pull out her keys, searching for the one for Haley’s front door on autopilot. She frowns as she steps onto the porch and spots that the front door is slightly ajar. She knocks a couple of times before pushing it further open so she can step inside.

“Haley?” She shouts into the quiet house, “Your front door is open,” she says as she closes it behind her, “You’re going to have to bribe me with baked goods not to tell Aaron, you know he’s a safety freak.” She steps further into the house, frowning again when she doesn’t get a response, “Haley?” 

She freezes, kept in place by the eerie quietness of Haley’s home. There was usually noise of some kind. Haley always played music or had the television on in the background, unable to stand the silence after living with her son for 18 years, even though Jack was away at college. 

It was too quiet. 

Emily feels dread start to spread through her veins, a sense of unease she can’t explain as she walks deeper into the house.

“Haley? I know you’re here, your car is in the driveway,” She hears a noise from the living room, a crash as something hits the ground and smashes into pieces. “Did you start on the wine early-”

She cuts herself off as she turns into the living room, her words fading as she sees the shattered vase she had bought Haley on the floor, the table it usually sat on askew, kicked out of place by the bare foot laying next to it.

The smell of iron hangs in the air, overpowering and bitter as it turns Emily’s stomach, forcing her to cover her mouth as she heaves, swallowing back bile as she’s frozen in place staring at her best friend laying on the floor. 

“Oh my god.” 

Haley is covered in blood, her torn shirt so stained with it that Emily couldn’t tell what colour it was supposed to be. She’s gasping, trying to draw in a breath that sounds painful and wet, her mouth open as she tries and fails to speak. It springs Emily into action. 

The blood on the hardwood floors, the same floors that convinced Haley to buy this house in the first place, is sticky against Emily’s jeans and hands as she hits the ground. It’s cold, just like Haley’s skin as Emily reaches out for her, drawing a groan from her friend as she cups her face. 

“You’re going to be ok,” Emily says, her voice firm, demanding, as if it was an instruction, not a wish, “You’re going to be fine,” she pulls her phone from her pocket, her hands shaking as she dials 911, “You’re taking Ellie to the zoo tomorrow, remember? She’s excited. You’re her favourite person.” 

She’s not even sure what she’s saying, the words escaping her without her meaning to. Knowing she’d say, that she’d do anything, to keep her friend conscious. Haley gasps as Emily presses her hands firmly onto her abdomen, cringing at the blood that is warm against her fingers. Tears spill onto her cheeks as Haley groans, the loudest sound she’d made so far. She feels Haley move, her hand, covered in blood, landing on top of hers, weakly squeezing as if trying to comfort her. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry - I don’t know what I’m doing,” she says desperately, shaking her head, waiting for 911 to connect, every second an eternity, “I only ever did infant first aid when I was having Ellie and they didn’t cover this, and our Greys Anatomy nights will only take me so far.”

The laugh that escapes her is weak, catching on a sob in her chest and it hurts. She feels Haley’s hand go slack and she turns to look at her, and her eyes lock with Haley’s empty, unseeing ones and she chokes on the sob lodged behind her sternum. 

“Haley.”

She hears a click in her ear.

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

-x-

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[kagedbird]

TESSDE AU (+ Lucia:]) (Lucia part 16)

Kaidan, Taliesin, Inigo, Lyra, and Davidicus all rush in behind Allora, only Davidicus and Lyra recoiling at the sight of their “sister” being hissed and snarled at by a draconic version of Allora.

Lyra: Silvia? What on Nirn are you doing here- how did you get in?

Silvia: *coos, looking far more human than Lucia's vision to Lyra and Davidicus, giving them an apologetic smile* Well, I'd had the urge to come say hello! Can't your dearest Silvia come by once in a while when she's lonely?

Davidicus: *grimaces* Not unannounced, you may not. What were you doing with Lucia?

Silvia: *places a hand to her chest, looking “hurt”* Why, nothing at all! I merely saw her and thought to say hello, and to ask who's she was! I was hurt to think you never mentioned another child, but I see now I was incorrect to assume, haha!

Allora: *sneers, backing away with Lucia to give her to Taliesin* Yeah, that's totally why she was sending me panick messages in fear.

Silvia: Panick messages? I'm afraid I don't quite understand!

Allora: Yeah, and you don't deserve to know. All I know is that she called for me because of you, so I'm only going to ask once: why shouldn't I kill you?

Davidicus: Now, just a moment-

Kaidan: Stuff it. Lucia, you a'right?

Lucia: *trembling as she clings to Taliesin, unable to answer, heart in her throat*

Taliesin: *Angry Father Mode, curling her protectively from view* Cherub, say the word. I will remove these two- if only you save us a portion to maim.

Allora: Gladly.

Lyra: Please- wait. Silvia is certainly not the easiest person to get along with-

Silvia: I'm hurt, dear sister!

Lyra: *narrows her eyes* …But I request any killing to not happen.

Allora: *turns her head to stare dead in to Lyra's eyes, pupils now slits* Look at her. Look at the state she's in. If you want me to believe she didn't do anything to my child, you have about five seconds to tell me. And I mean it.

Lyra: *frowns, looking worriedly at Lucia, who's still shuddering in Taliesin's arms* …

Allora: That's what I thought.

Lucien: *rushes in, bewildered at the state of the door, then his partner, Lucia, and then Silvia; narrowing his eyes at the sight of her* What on Nirn is going on?!

Silvia: *grins wide, too wide in Lucia's vision, chuckling* Well if it isn't the father of the hour! Lucien! You went and had a child and you didn't tell me~? I'm hurt!

Lucien: *out right glaring, moving to stand next to Allora* How did you get in here? Reberio should have stopped you at the gate or notified us.

Silvia: Oh, that Reberio! Getting up there in age, isn't he? Perhaps it's best to let him go at this point- who knows what task he might not accomplish next?

Allora: I know which one you aren't: breathing. Hold still. *flexes her claws*

Silvia: *laughs* And this is who you chose to be the mother of your child? Temper, temper, dear. I've been known to do a great many deal of things. Wouldn't want to hurt you now, would we?

Allora: Taliesin. Get them out of here.

Taliesin: *passes Lucia to Inigo, who runs out immediately, both Kaidan and Taliesin grappling Lyra and Davidicus* Let's go. Now. Do not argue.

Lyra: I-

Davidicus: Lucien-

Lucien: Go. *Sparks flare on his fingertips, staring down Silvia* I've always wanted to do this.

Allora: *grins* Happy to help.

Silvia: Ooh, time for the training wheels to come off then, hm? *Her grin grows impossibly wide, a laugh echoing from the depths of her throat and chest as if she were only built to hold the sound* Very well. Show me what you can do.

[clericofshadows]

don't ask about Ryuusei

Description: Regis Shepard receives an odd invite from Joker, which leads to him falling through a fish tank, being taken care of his lovers, and finding out that there's an identity theft plot against him--all in that order.

Pairing: Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko/Zaeed Massani

Rating: M

Word Count: ~14K

Regis was sitting at his desk, scrolling through his terminal when he saw a message from Moreau pop up.

Shepard, I've got a few things I wanted to go over with you. With the Normandy in dry dock, I figured we could meet up at that Ryuusei sushi place down in the Wards. I hear it's the best. Joker

Something was a bit off on the tone of the email, but it wouldn’t be the first time Moreau made EDI type up something for him.  He didn’t recognize the name of the restaurant, but the mention of sushi made him pull a face so he searched it up.  The first link revealed that it was not only a fancy, high-end sushi place but also housed in a fucking fish tank.  He knows how much Regis hates fish.  Hell, he was there when Regis boasted about getting the Cerberus crew to remove the eye-sore in his cabin.

So why would he ever suggest Ryuusei over any other restaurant?  Regis will go the extra mile for some of his crew, but taking someone out to a fish tank themed restaurant is crossing the damn line.

He pushed the chair away from his desk and stalked back over to the living room.  Kaidan made a concerned expression, sensing his anger from a mile away, making room for him on the couch.

“I’m going to murder him,” Regis said, flopping back down on the couch, pulling his omnitool out to show his husbands. “What the hell is this?”

Zaeed looked over his shoulder, squinting his eyes at the omnitool. “Are you sure it’s from him?”

“I’ve scanned it, ran it through my filters. Do you want me to message my friend in infosec? It’s legit,” he replied. “I’ve already looked up the place. It’s a fucking fish tank that only serves sushi and seafood. I’ll pass.”

“Joker’s an ass, but he’s not an idiot,” Kaidan said. Fair point to make. Moreau values his life over jokes when it comes to Regis. Most of the time. “Want us to go with you?”

“I might need some material witnesses, but I’d argue you’re both too damn biased to be of any use,” Regis said, turning to kiss Kaidan on the cheek. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

“That’s what Spectre authorizations are for, right? Abuse your goddamn power. Wipe your slate clean,” Zaeed chuckled. “So, are you going to go?”

“Might as well. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He could get food poisoning again.  He was fifteen years old, and his mother took him out to a place on Arcturus known for its seafood.  He was sick for days afterwards, his mother somehow escaping from the horror that he felt.

Regis swore off fish in any form since then. 

“I could think of a few things,” Kaidan said, furrowing his eyebrows. “You just jinxed us.”

Regis rolled his eyes. “Just be on standby, loves. Hell, why did this place highly recommend formal wear? I rather not waste one of my suits on Moreau.”

“Think of you wearing one of those suits as something we can take off of you later,” Zaeed said, leaning over the couch to whisper in his ear.

Regis smirked, pulling him in for a kiss. “You have good ideas, Massani. Fine, I’ll wear one of my suits. But not my nicest one.”

He got up from the couch. “I’ll be back. Don’t follow me, because I know damn well you’ll make me late.”

“What? We would never,” Kaidan replied, laying his hand on his chest in mock offense.

Regis walked backwards to the stairs. “Bullshit. I can see you two already scheming.”

“Only about tonight, baby,” Zaeed said, curling up next to Kaidan. “We would never sabotage an important meeting.”

Regis stopped at the stairwell, a hand on the railing. He glared at them with narrowed eyes. “Sure,” he said, drawing out the word. “And I’m definitely straight.”

“The horror!” Kaidan chuckled.  “Go get ready.  We’ll hold down the fort.”

Regis smiled as he walked up the stairs into their bedroom, opening the closet and sorting through his suits.  He grabbed a red vest, a black button down, slacks, and a pair of his combat boots.  For comfort.  He grabbed his silicone wedding rings and placed them on top of each other on his ring finger, keeping the real ones safe on his dog tags hanging in the jewelry box.

He also reached for his holster, designed to fit his N7 Eagle perfectly underneath his shoulder.  

Sitting on his weapon bench was one of his visors.  A thinner, smaller model turians tend to prefer to use, recently co-opted and refitted for human use.  He tucked it in his vest pocket, one of the arms of the visor hanging off the side of his pocket.

Because you never know.

He took his time getting ready, ensuring no piece was out of place.  He finished up by finger-combing some product in his hair and rubbing some oil into this beard.

When he walked down the stairs, rolling up his sleeves, revealing his inked arms, Zaeed let out a whistle.  Regis rolled his eyes as he stood in front of the couch, twirling around so they could look at his outfit.  “Good enough to take off of me later?”

“I don’t know,” Zaeed said, a sparkle in his eye.  “This is a picture I want to keep.  May just have to worship you with it on, only taking just enough off to make you writhe.”

Regis gave him a look , but he doubted it had much fire behind it.  “You are not going to ruin my suit.”  Zaeed held up his hands in surrender, keeping that smug expression on his face.  Bastard.  That’s all Regis is going to think about during the damn meet up.

Dry cleaning does exist…

Kaidan shook his head at Zaeed’s comment.  “Do you really need the Eagle?” He asked, pointing at the holster.

“I’m a Spectre.  I can open carry,” Regis said, crossing his arms.  “Too much?”

“Yes, I know you’re a Spectre.” Kaidan rolled his eyes.  Regis stuck out his tongue.  “Nah.  It suits you.  Makes it clear how you feel about the meeting.”

“I’m going to be pissed if I find out this could’ve been a damn email.” Regis said.  He stepped forward to kiss the both of them on the cheek.  “I’ll be back soon.”

“Try not to kill our pilot.  Don’t have many of those that will put up with our crew,” Zaeed called out as Regis opened the door.

He shot him a one-fingered salute in response.

The ride to the restaurant was quick enough.  Regis toyed with the rings on his finger, twisting them around.  He wasn’t anxious, per se, but he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the meeting.

Mostly because he was going to give Moreau one hell of an earful.  

The skycar stopped and he stepped outside, looking at the line of people.  As he walked to the end of the line, all eyes on the first Human Spectre and Admiral, the host waved him forward.  He sighed and got out of his place in line, stepping onto the fish tank floors, looking down on them with barely disguised annoyance.  Moreau waved him over to a table in the back, a grin on his face and wearing a casual blazer and jeans.  

Okay, something is weird.  Something is definitely up.  There’s no way he’ll ever be this enthusiastic about a meeting with Regis.  They tolerate each other, and that’s it.

He almost wanted to see if someone was behind him.

He walked over to the table and sat down, lacing his fingers together on the table.

Moreau’s gaze landed on his gun.  “Uh, was that really necessary?”

“Oh, you mean this?” Regis pointed at his holster.  “I don’t know. Why the hell did you invite me to what I could consider the biggest abomination of a restaurant on the Citadel?  You know I would’ve been perfectly fine at a damn noodle stand.”

“Wait a minute, you messaged me .  For a second, I thought it was a prank.  I mean, hello–” he gestured around.  “I know you.  This is your personal hell, but maybe you decided to let that all go to celebrate your favorite pilot.”

“My favorite pilot is EDI,” Regis deadpanned, keeping his face neutral as Moreau clutched at his chest in offense.  “Shit, so you got a message from me, and I got a message from you… I knew I should’ve involved infosec.”

“You were about to involve infosec?  Let me see that message you got,” he replied.  Regis obliged, pulling up his omnitool.  He read over it quickly.   “That’s weird.  My message is almost the same, except from you.”

“My filters and scans didn’t pick up any anomalies, so I just assumed you had EDI write and send it like you have a tendency of doing,” Regis replied, shutting it off.  “This isn’t good.”

“Hey, she offers!  It’s efficiency,” he defended.  His gaze fell to something behind him.  “Uh, there’s a low-ranking officer in blues trying to get our attention.”

Regis turned around to see a young woman waving desperately to get their attention, clothed in perfect dress blues, hat in place, and shoes shined to perfection.

Almost too perfect, but not uncommon with some of the lower ranks.  Wanting to make themselves seem as important as possible, which he couldn’t blame.

Still… This whole situation made him unnerved.  Regis got the attention of the host who was trying and nearly failing to hold her back.  He made a “come here” motion and the host reluctantly let her through as she stumbled forward.

Another thing bugged him.  Kaidan and Zaeed knew he was here.  How did she know he was here?  Did the press announce it that quickly?  Admiral Regis Shepard spotted at Ryuusei, more at 11?

She stopped at their table, holding a datapad, almost sounding out of breath as she introduced himself.  “Staff Analyst Maya Brooks.  Alliance Intelligence.  Com–Admiral Shepard, there are people trying to kill you.”

He’s been an Admiral since the end of the war.  Kind of annoying that some people still try to call him Commander.

He and Moreau shared a look.  Moreau spoke up.  “Uh, yeah, that’s pretty typical for Shepard.  What’s new?”

“No, like I’m aware of the remnants of Cerberus and other orgs, but ugh–” she shook her head, looking frustrated with herself.  “Someone is hacking into your accounts.  Comm channels, personal records… They’re targeting you specifically.”

Regis narrowed his eyes.  “I figured that out before you got here.  You and your department must’ve dropped the ball.  I have my own fucking security, so what the hell is going on?”

She flinched back at his hostility, but something about it looked exaggerated.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so harsh, but her high energy was getting on his nerves.  “We don’t have all the intel yet!  And I’m not about to guess when we don’t have all the information.”

Regis made a motion with his hand to continue.  “Well, what do you know?”

“Take a breath, Brooks,” Moreau said.  “Not like this is a life-or-death situation or anything.”

At that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a lot of movement from the entrance.  With a hand on his gun, Regis watched as a whole group of armored, armed mercenaries started pouring in, pushing the host aside.

Shit.

Regis made no move just yet, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself.  He readied his Tech Armor on his omnitool, ready to flash-forge it over his body.

It’s a good thing he didn’t wear his best suit.  He had a feeling it wasn’t going to survive this trip.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!  Tonight's performance is brought to you by random acts of violence,” one of the mercs announced, presumably the captain.  At his word, his fellow mercs started shooting in the air, causing chaos and throwing up tables, causing the civilians to scatter and cower in fear.  They shot at the glass, and Regis put on his visor as he got up, shielding Moreau from the fire and using the table as a make-shift shield.  

As the visor calibrated, he noticed that the structural integrity of the building was severely compromised.  You would've thought that an expensive restaurant would spring for the best glass for their precious fish.

He was going to leave a one-star review if he gets out of this mess.  

“Spread out boys!  Find me Shepard!” the captain announced.

Regis pushed Moreau down, keeping an eye on the analyst.  He drew his gun and activated his omnitool, typing out an SOS to Zaeed and Kaidan.

Need help.  Suit up fast.  Ryuusei.

The message lagged a bit before eventually sending.  Shit, they’re jamming comms too?  He sent it just in time, but the warning signs on his visor weren’t helping with all the chaos on the tanks.

A fish restaurant is not going to kill him today.

“Stay there,” he ordered Brooks.  “Moreau?” He asked, turning to him, looking him over with a concerned eye.  “Are you okay?”

“Ow, my pancreas,” he groaned, clutching his side.  “I’m fine.  More durable than you think.”

Regis rolled his eyes, about to move forward, but a merc came forward and yanked Brooks out of her cover.  She stumbled as they dragged her across the floor.  “Goddamn it,” Regis muttered.

“Listen,” he said, getting Moreau’s attention.  “I’m going to go after her.  I’ve already sent word to Kaidan and Zaeed but rally the crew.”

“Rally the crew and your crazy husbands, got it,” he said, slowly getting up from the cover.

Regis smirked and kept an eye on Moreau, waiting for a trooper to try and get the obvious bait, holstering his Eagle.  And then, one shouted.  “Hey!”

Regis reached up and yanked the merc over his cover, flash-forging his omni-blade and sinking it in his chest with a growl.

He took the weapon off the corpse, not recognizing it as anything currently on the market, much less the Spectre market.  Lightweight, suppressed, and human made.

Interesting.

“You used me as bait!” Moreau accused.

“Yes, I did.  Now get the hell out of here!” Regis replied, twisting his fingers into a barrier, feeling the dark energy settle over him.  He forged his Tech Armor as well, trying to provide as much protection on him as possible before leaving the compromised position.

Regis peaked around the corner, aiming with the new pistol and headshotting the nearest merc, watching in satisfaction as they collapsed to the ground.  The gun barely made a sound, low enough to not be immediately detected as a gunshot.

Well, his Eagle is going to be useless.  Damn. His favorite gun is already overshadowed by some new black-market tech. 

He crept forward, gathering dark energy in one hand, twisting it into a Reave, tossing it at the nearest merc.  The merc panicked, making him a perfect target.  Pull the trigger, and then-–dead.

Regis prepped an overload on his omnitool, using his eye-tracking software to pinpoint the group of mercs near the bar, creeping towards his location.  In a flash of red, he overloaded their shields in a rain of sparks, making them vulnerable to a blast of dark energy.  He teased the energy in his palm, twisting his fingers to point forwards into a shockwave.  The energy pulsed on the ground before blowing up in their faces, knocked out by the force of the blast.

“I’m over here!” Brooks called out.  Shit.  Another merc turned towards his direction, walking away from his position at the bar.  Can she not read the fucking room?

Regis reloaded the pistol, grabbing a fresh heat sink from the ground and vaulting over the bar.  He rushed towards the merc, detonating his tech armor with a clench of his fist, causing them to stagger.  He forged another omni blade and stabbed it through the helmet, ripping it away in a spray of blood.

There definitely goes his suit.  

Brooks was lying on the glass in front of the entrance.  He ran towards her, gunning down the merc guarding the entrance.  He slid down to her.  Holding out a hand, he helped her up, her grip very tight.  “You alright?” Regis asked, brushing off his vest, stuffing the new gun in his other holster.  “Come on, we need to–”

He heard the sound of jet-propelled armor, and then a flash of red.  She pushed him out of the way, Brooks took the shot meant for him, clipping her side.

Regis gritted his teeth as he moved to get up, winded by the way he fell on his back.  The merc continued to fire around him, missing every shot, hitting the glass…

Well, shit.  His visor flashed with warnings, the glass started to creak ominously, and then–

The glass shattered.

Regis cried out, reaching deep within the gravity well to start to slow his fall, but it failed, a spike of pain coming from his neck.  He blindly reached for something, anything to grab onto.  His hand slipped on the neon sign, the panels shattering with his weight until he stopped at the very end, his hand covered in cuts and starting to sting with the saltwater raining from above.

Slowly, carefully, he raised himself up, cringing at the pain radiating up from his hands and bare arms.

How the hell is he going to get out of this?

He started to try and climb up more, but then it started to creak.  He widened his eyes as the sigh failed to support his weight, and he fell with a shout, rolling down the glass windows.

Reaching out for more purchase, his grip landed up an open window, and he was dangling once more.  No time to think, no time to do anything as he looked up and saw more glass and remnants of the sign raining down.

He took a breath and let go of the open window, sliding and rolling down the wall until he landed on a solid platform.  

Water still rained down on top of him as he slowly rose up, clutching his side and looking over his body.  His hands were shredded and covered in blood.  His arms were marred with cuts.  He was soaked and smelling like fish.

Sure, he’s been through hell many times.  But somehow the fish part made this encounter part of his worst.  

With a pained sigh, he activated his omnitool and cursed at his low level of medigel, barely enough to seal the worst of the cuts on his hand.  He applied it gently to his hands, ripping off parts of his dress pants to create a crude bandage.

It will be enough for now.

He glanced at his visor’s HUD, noticing that his amp was overloaded.  Shit.  No wonder he couldn’t levitate down.  

He’ll need a new replacement, stat.

A flick of his wrist, and his omnitool reactivated.  He searched through the comm feeds, only picking up on a local one.  All others were still blocked, no way to get a message through to any of his crew.

He reached for the suppressed pistol, looking around to try and get his bearings.  

“Admiral! I found a secure terminal.  Are you okay down there?”  Of all the people that are able to reach out to him.

“Yeah, feeling peachy.”  No, he’s not okay.  Not about to admit that to her.

He made his way through the scaffolding, jumping over to the next platform and sliding down the ladder.  “Didn’t you get hit?” He asked, making conversation.

“Yup!  I used a lot of medigel.  Too much of it, maybe.  Everything is a bit… bouncy?”  She sounded very chipper, almost manic.  

“You used too much,” he confirmed absentmindedly, jumping over to another set of platforms and sliding down another ladder, wincing at the contact with his abused hands.  “Alert C-Sec.  I’m looking for a way out.”

She didn’t immediately reply, and Regis was almost thankful for it.  His gaze landed on a skycar lot across the street, selling top of the line models.  A skycar took off from the landing pad.  “I see a lot and a landing pad.  Cision Motors.”

“Yeah, I see it!” 

“Good.  Get a shuttle there ASAP,” he ordered as he made his way down, finding himself in front of a freezer storage of some sort.

“So, um, it turns out that C-Sec has the whole area locked down.  It’s going to be tricky to get a shuttle down there.”

Great.  Regis made his way through the freezer, rubbing his arms at the sudden chill.  “Well, keep at it and find a fucking solution!”  He glanced back down at his omnitool, seeing two comm requests pop up.  He read through their signatures and pushed them through, recognizing his husbands’ sigs from a mile away.

Finally.  Some real help.  

“Oh, and you should stay off your comm.  Except for me!  Because it’s hacked.  And that’s how they found you.”  Ain’t that convenient.  He ignored her, climbing up the ladder and nodding at the salarian taking a smoke break, who barely spared him a glance.  

“Do you even know who these mercs are?” He asked, hoping she had something to give him.

“No.  They really don’t seem to like you!”

“That’s real helpful, Brooks.  Thanks for that very astute observation,” Regis growled out, crouching down at the top of the building.  

Why is it taking so damn long for their comms to get through?  He glanced back down at his omnitool and pushed them through again, changing the security on the fly so they could patch into Brooks’ comm instead of his own.

If she complains about it, he’s muting her.

He leapt from building to building until he stopped at one at the edge of the market, seeing a group of the same mercs patrolling around.  Shit.

Without his biotics, this wasn’t going to be fun.  His visor helpfully outputted that the temp of his amp had gone down, but diagnostics were still too volatile for him to risk it.

“Regis!  Can you hear me?” Kaidan’s voice appeared, and Regis relaxed minutely.  

“Yes, love.  Loud and clear.  Zaeed got routed in, too?” Regis replied with a relieved smile, still perched on the top of the building, scanning the area before dropping down quietly, crouching down behind a random stall.

“Of course.  We’re on foot, but close.  Goddamn, can we ever have a peaceful leave?” Zaeed said. 

Regis was looking forward to them peeling his suit off of him.  Now all he wanted to do is soak in that hot tub and never come out.  

“Joker let us know what happened.  Did you really use him as bait?” Kaidan chuckled.

“Excuse me, who is this?  You’re on an unsecured channel, and you are putting Admiral Shepard in danger!” Brooks yelled out.  Regis shook his head and shot at the nearest merc, watching him collapse to the ground in a satisfying crumble.

“And who the hell are you?” Zaeed cut in.  “Not like we have a lot of options here.”

Regis ignored the conversation as he summoned a drone, directing it to distract the mercs heading towards the body.  

As they focused on the drone, he detonated it, overloading their shields and making them vulnerable to a few well-placed shots. Well, if they aren’t going to introduce themselves, he might as well do it.  Not like he’s fighting for his life here or anything.  

“Zaeed, Kaidan, this is Staff Analyst Brooks.  Brooks, these are my husbands, Zaeed and Kaidan.  Not the type to be putting me in danger,” Regis explained as he crept through the alleyway, keeping an eye on any other mercs.  “Play nice, because I’m in the middle of something here.”

“As if you ever play nice,” Kaidan said with a barely disguised snort.  “Can you send me your diag?”

Regis sent the outputs through the comm, hoping there was enough bandwidth to handle the data transfer.  Luckily, it went through, and Regis rolled over to the nearest stand, aiming for the next group of mercs with another primed and ready overload.

“We’ll make sure to call Vik so they can get you checked out.” Regis could hear his wince across the comm.  Yeah, he knew they weren’t great, but Kaidan was the most knowledgeable about bio-feeds.

The fact that he’s favoring Vik over Chakwas is signal enough that his amp problem is something serious.  Great.  Just like he thought but hoped he interpreted incorrectly.

He fired off the overload, taking down the second group with precision, disposing of the smoking heat sink and scooping up another off of the corpses.  

“Just my amp.  Can easily be replaced.  I’ll be fine,” Regis said, checking his program cooldowns before switching over to the cryo freeze, firing it off at a sniper who was getting set up at the back counter.  

He took a deep breath and continued forward, starting to feel weary.  His hands and arms ached, and he was sure he was going to be a massive bruise by tomorrow.  

Keep pressing forward, Regis.  It’s this or death.

At the end of the street was a locked door.  He glanced at the security and pushed through his Spectre credentials, the door opening and confirming his status.  

“I’m almost at the lot.  Just have a few more mercs I need to fight through,” Regis said, crouching behind an elegant potted plant.  “Unless any of you are close enough to go ahead and save my ass?”

“Almost there!” Kaidan said.  “Hold out a bit longer.”

“You say that like it’s easy,” he muttered, temporarily muting himself.  He unmuted, “Glad to hear!”

He summoned his drone again and drew some of the mercs towards him.  His hands started to shake as he raised up the pistol.  Shit.  He needs to get out of here, fast.

His first shot went wide, but the next hit home, taking down one of the mercs as the other shot at his drone.  

He ordered the drone to shock the merc in a blast of sparks, finishing them off with another bullet.  Only a few more to go.

He glanced at his diags again, seeing the output of his amp improving.  Normally, he wouldn’t do this, but this is not a normal situation.  He flicked his fingers into a singularity, feeling his corona roar to life before tossing it at the group of mercs waiting at the entrance to the skycar lot.

“Admiral!  There’s a C-Sec shuttle inbound if you can get to the car lot,” Brooks announced.

“Got it,” Regis said, trying to keep his voice steady.

He’s going to pay for that later with one hell of a migraine.

Worth it to stay alive.  

He grabbed some more clips and holstered the suppressed pistol, noticing a M-11 on the side.  He traded it out for his Eagle, not caring for stealth at the moment, although he noticed that the gun pierced through armor like no other, almost like a mini Widow.  

As he walked into the lot, he saw Kaidan holding a group of mercs in the air with his biotics, his corona burning blue.  Zaeed had his Widow out, sniping the heads of the mercs before Kaidan threw them against the wall in a blast of dark energy. 

Regis holstered his gun as Kaidan walked towards him, his corona slowly dissipating.  To his immense pleasure both Zaeed and Kaidan opted to wear their matching long coats and infiltration style gear, Kaidan’s blue duster marked with the Spectre logo.

Kaidan’s expression morphed into one of concern as he got a better look at him, gaze falling on his hands.  “What happened?”

“Fell through a fucking fish tank,” he replied, opening his arms for a hug.  Kaidan hugged him back, and Regis let Kaidan support him as Zaeed prepped some medigel.

“And your amp?” Zaeed asked after they broke apart, clasping Regis on the shoulder.  “I still want to take that suit off of you.”  Kaidan rolled his eyes, shaking his head at his husband.

“Me too, so we can burn it later.” Regis sat down on the curb, taking a breath.  “My amp needs to be replaced.  It’s better than what it was, but I don’t trust it right now.”

“We’ll be calling Vik the moment we get back to the apartment,” Kaidan said with a nod, sitting down beside him.  “Now be honest.  Scale of one to ten.”

Regis closed his eyes.  “Five, maybe six?  That fall fucked me up.  Only came out of it unscathed as it did probably due to Cerberus’s enhancements.”

Zaeed activated his Kuwashii visor and performed a scan of his own, kneeling down, starting to administer some medigel to the more superficial wounds.  “Don’t see anything too abnormal, but I’m no medic.  Your goddamn amp is still going crazy.”

“I may have used some biotics even after it threw a warning,” Regis admitted.

Kaidan gave him a hard look, but it was softened by the concern still written on his face.  “Don’t use any more until we can get you checked out.  Are your programs still running at optimal levels?”

Regis gave him a hard look of his own.  “You know who you’re talking to, right?” He stood up and forged his tech armor.  “No issues at all.”

“Then stick to them,” Kaidan said with a pointed look, checking over his N7 Valkyrie.  

Zaeed stepped in between them.  “Love the foreplay.  Let’s get out of here?  Landing pad is beyond a locked gate, maybe we should find a way to open it so we can get on with it?”

“Oh, I’m sure you want us to get on with it,” Kaidan muttered.

Regis rolled his eyes and stalked over to the set of offices where there was likely some sort of master lock to unlock the gates.  They followed him as he activated his omnitool, priming it to overload the door.  “Stand back.”

Kaidan slowly lowered his raised arm.  “Just a minute, love.” He moved to knock on the window, and Regis noticed a volus sitting underneath the window.  Ah.

“Would’ve been faster if you let him destroy the damn lock,” Zaeed said, gesturing with the Widow.  “Hell, I could’ve blasted it off for you.”

Kaidan ignored them both.  “Could you unlock the gate?”

With a mechanical sound, the gates lowered into the floor.  “Thanks.” Kaidan said, walking past both of them with a smirk on his face.

“Well, I could’ve done that ,” Regis muttered, following close behind him.  

“Boring.  We could've been out of here by now if you hadn’t played nice,” Zaeed said, clapping him on the back.  

“Isn’t that what you love about me?” Kaidan shot back, walking backwards towards the landing pad.  “We need someone in this relationship who doesn’t immediately resort to violence.”

“There’s a key word in that sentence, love,” Regis teased.  “‘Immediately.’”  

As they made it to the landing pad, they saw a C-Sec shuttle flying towards them.  Regis lowered his gun, raising up an arm to shield his face as the shuttle started to lower.  The shuttle door opened, and he caught the flash of a turret.  Shit.  Nothing is ever easy.

“Get down!” Kaidan ordered, summoning up a biotic bubble as the mercs opened fire, bullets stopping in the wake of the dark energy surrounding them.  Zaeed pushed them both behind the lot’s sign, throwing off a bundle of Inferno grenades to cover them before ducking into the bubble.

Kaidan let the bubble go, conserving his energy.  They all shared a look, looking at each other first before glancing back at the shuttle, looking for a way out.

And then, the sound of glass shattering and the distinct sound of a krogan war cry came out of nowhere.  Regis glanced at his diags to make sure he hadn’t fallen into shock.

“Is that–fucking hell…” Zaeed said in growing awe as the sound of an engine blowing up filled the air.  “Good goddamn timing.”

The shuttle crashed to the ground and Regis risked a glance around the sign, seeing Wrex pummeling the mercs without breaking a sweat, headbutting and pushing them around before tossing one unlucky bastard out the back door.

“Just to make it clear, Wrex was not one of the people we informed,” Kaidan said, walking out of cover.

Wrex walked towards them calmly after kicking another merc out of the shuttle.  “Maybe you should’ve, Alenko.  Almost missed all the fun!”

Wrex pulled a minigun from a corpse and tossed it to Regis, who caught it with a grin.  “Glad to have you here.  So, what exactly are you doing here anyway?” Regis asked.  

“Butting heads with the Council over krogan expansion,” he said.  “Shepard, you should take up the human council position!  We’ll have someone who could have our backs.”

Regis shuddered at the thought.  “Respectfully Wrex, that’s going to be a hell-fucking-no.”

“Ah, what a shame.  I get it though.” Wrex nodded at Zaeed who did the same in response.  

Regis looked over the minigun as an explosion rocked the area, coming from inside the building.  He sighed, shaking his head.  “Wrex, you with me?”

“Always, my friend.  Now, stay back.  You’re too squishy in that outfit of yours,” Wrex said, priming his shotgun.

Mercs poured in from the ceiling, jumping down and ready for a fight.  Two biotics–well, technically one at the moment–one krogan, and one pissed-off merc versus a whole company of mercs.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Regis dashed over to the nearest cover, which was yet another sign advertising the business.

“So, we got a way out of here?” Wrex asked as he lifted a whole group of mecs for Zaeed to snipe.

“Of course we do.  We’re goddamn professionals,” Zaeed replied, picking them off one by one. 

“That’s not a yes, love!” Kaidan called out, throwing out a quick overload to take down an engineer about to set up a turret.  Regis sent out his drone to assist, despite being low on resources.  He tested the gun and took down a group of mercs advancing towards him, mowing them down without much effort.

He’s still going to mostly sit this one out.  He’s not an idiot.

“Admiral!” Moreau’s voice filled the comm.  “We’re on our way.  I picked up Brooks.  Figured you have a few questions.”

Sure, but not right at this minute.  “Maybe later.  By the way, that shuttle you sent?  The C-Sec shuttle wasn’t C-Sec, it was filled with a bunch of mercs.  So please, hurry up,” Regis replied, taking out a few enemy drones heading towards him with precision.  

“What?!” Brooks asked with an exaggerated inquiring tone.  

“You heard me,” Regis growled out, taking a breath as he replenished his tech armor.  

“Right, sorry.  We’ll be there soon!”

Regis started to feel a little bad for being so hostile, but something about her was rubbing him the wrong way.  No one can be that damn chipper.

“Great place to fight in.  Lots to destroy!” Wrex announced and the tell-tale sound of glass shattering filled the air.  Zaeed shouted with glee as he fired off something explosive.  Kaidan started to fall back, heading to Regis’s position.

Regis shook his head but was grinning all the same.  Yeah, he missed this kind of action, not getting up to much of it post-war, clearing out Cerberus stations and herding survivors, working to scout the galaxy and continue looking for more history.

“Approaching your position, Admiral.  Just following the gunfire,” Moreau chuckled.  “Sorry it’s taking a while.  Had to take the scenic route.”

“Copy that,” Regis acknowledged.  He prepped another overload as a sniper tried to sneak up on him, their cloak revealed by his visor.  No match for his technology.  He fired it off, paying little mind to the arguing going on the comm.  Brooks started yelling at Moreau for nearly crashing multiple times.

If it gets them here faster, Regis didn’t care how they did it.

“Hey, Shepard, get to the shuttle!” Moreau announced as the sounds of whirring engines grew louder and louder.  

Kaidan yelled.  “Fall back!” Starting to provide cover fire, he extended his barrier so that it would also envelop Regis, the blue dark energy surrounding him in a protective field.  

Moreau maneuvered the shuttle so it was hovering just above the ground.  Wrex charged towards the shuttle, throwing a set of Warp grenades behind him that exploded in a flurry of blue and red before jumping aboard.  Zaeed was close behind, jumping on and holding out an arm.  Regis grabbed onto him, and Zaeed pulled him close, holding onto Regis tightly as he stumbled forward.

Kaidan jumped aboard once everyone was secure and Moreau shut the shuttle door, halting the path of gunfire.

He took off in a burst of speed that was definitely illegal for this sector of the Citadel, the sounds of gunfire slowly quietening down.  

Regis clung to Zaeed as they headed back to safety in silence, Kaidan watching them with a concerned eye.  Even Wrex looked worried, leaning against the back wall of the shuttle.

“Vik’s meeting us at the apartment,” Kaidan said, breaking the silence. “Finally got the comms through.”

“Thanks.  Adrian coming too?” Regis asked, trying to keep the exhaustion from creeping into his tone.

“Nah, just them.  Figured you wanted a quiet apartment when we get home,” Kaidan replied.

Regis nodded in response, Zaeed rubbing circles into his back.  “We’ll be home soon, babe.  Ready to jump in that tub?  You smell like shit.”

Regis couldn’t help but laugh.  “I’m well aware.”

Before they entered the apartment, Wrex asked, “Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?”

Kaidan stepped between him and Regis.  “After we get cleaned up.”

“But it’s important we stop the threat now!” Brooks said, moving past to try and get into the apartment.

“And it can wait until I get my damn amp replaced,” Regis said, blocking her from moving any further.  “Get the rest of the crew up to speed.  A few hours isn’t going to make any difference.”

“Come on, Brooks,” Moreau said, motioning for her to follow, meeting his gaze with a nod.  “We’ll meet with the crew down on the strip.”

Wrex stayed behind as Moreau more or less started dragging Brooks with him.  The moment they stepped into the elevator, Wrex motioned at the door.  “Want me to keep an eye on your place as you take a breather?”

“That would be great,” Regis said, relieved.  “I’m expecting Vik, remember them?”

“Sure do.  I’ll make sure that only they get in for you.”

“Much appreciated, Wrex,” Zaeed said, shaking his hand.  

“Anything for you. Try not to get too distracted with each other,” he laughed.

Kaidan rolled his eyes as he unlocked the door.  “I make no promises to that.”

His laughter filled the air as they walked into the apartment, only quietening down after the door was closed.

Safe in the apartment, Regis started to pull off his ruined suit, tossing both his Eagle and the mystery M-11 on the coffee table.  Kaidan moved in to help him, batting his hands away as he unbuttoned the silk shirt, gently pulling it off of him to not disturb the healing skin.  Some bruises had already started to form, coloring his chest in a mass of purple.  Regis winced as Kaidan ran a gentle hand down his chest, feeling for any abnormalities.  “Let’s take the rest of this upstairs.”

Regis looked over at the stairway with hesitation.  “Is it too much to ask for one of you to carry me?”

“‘Course not,” Zaeed said.  “But before I pick you up, don’t play the strong Admiral.  How are you really feeling right now?”

“Terrible,” Regis said with a sigh, sitting down on the couch despite his ruined pants.  He kicked off his boots.  “Neither one of you want to know how close I was to falling to my damn death back there.”

“Joker let us know.  He caught a glimpse of the hole,” Kaidan said quietly, pressing a gentle kiss on the pulse point of his neck.  “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I felt so helpless,” he admitted, looking down at his knees.  “When my amp failed, I thought that this was it, no way out.  Too damn lucky that I caught my hand on a sign and then on an open window after the sign broke.” He shook his head.  “If any of the crew even thinks about joking about what happened…” he trailed off with a yawn, his unspoken threat losing steam.  “You get the idea.”

“Most of the crew has a good head on their shoulders.  Doubt they’ll risk your ire,” Zaeed said, taking off his gloves and tossing them on the couch, shrugging off his duster.  “Ready?”

Regis nodded and allowed himself to be picked up into a bridal carry, cradled close to Zaeed’s chest as they walked upstairs.  He could’ve made the trip, honestly.

But he wanted to be taken care of, and he was glad they picked up on that.  He hadn’t felt so vulnerable in a long time, and he hated that he was put into that position.

Especially in front of an officer he knows nothing about.

Zaeed put him down in front of the bathroom and Regis pressed a kiss on the corner of his lip before stripping down, throwing the ruined and torn pants into a corner of the room.  Kaidan had followed them inside their bedroom, stopping in the doorway.  “I’m going to wait for Vik downstairs and start looking into this mess in the Spectre channels.  Need me for anything?” Kaidan asked.

“I think we have it handled, babe,” Zaeed replied.  “But don’t get too deep into it right now.”

Kaidan smiled.  “I make no promises, love.  Now relax and get better, Regis.  Take all the time you need.”

“Don’t worry, I definitely will,” Regis said, pulling off his underwear and slipping inside the hottub with a groan.  He felt both their gazes on him as he sunk into the water, dunking his head to get his hair wet and to start to scrub out the grime from the day.

“If you’re going to look at me, join me,” he said, pointing at them both.

Kaidan chuckled once Zaeed started to strip the rest of his leathers down, pulling off the reinforced fibers with quick precision.  Regis watched as Kaidan leaned in to kiss Zaeed on the lips, cupping his head and pulling him close, pulling away just before it got heated.  Zaeed almost seemed to chase after Kaidan, wanting more as he walked away from the bedroom.

Regis thought they all needed some quiet reassurance.  

Zaeed tugged off his underwear and joined him in the tub. Regis raised up and Zaeed settled behind him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in close against his soft chest.  He sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing into the embrace.

Zaeed grabbed Regis’s favorite shampoo and started to lather it into his hair, massaging Regis’s scalp with expert hands.  He allowed himself to be pampered, to be taken care of.  

A ritual they do if a mission almost went south.  When they knew it was life or death. 

They knew the score.  So called “old” soldiers and mercs have been at it for too long and yet none of them want to leave.  

Moments like this, however, reminded them what danger still lurked, how easy one of them could be taken away.

When Zaeed was done with his hair, Regis took a second to wash out the suds.  About to grab the bottle to do the same for him, Zaeed batted his hand away, pushed the shampoo further away from him, and instead reached for the citrus scented conditioner.  “You can take care of me later.”

Regis only hummed in response, relaxing even more as he started to work the conditioner into his hair, expertly applying it to his curls and combing out tangles with his fingers, making perfect little coils as he went along.  

Maybe he’ll keep his eyes closed.  Yeah, that felt nice.  The sensation of being taken care of along with the repetitive sounds of the jets in the tub lulled him to sleep, allowing himself to relax fully knowing he was safe in the arms of a man he loved.

“Regis?” 

His eyes popped open and he realized he wasn’t in the tub anymore as he raised up quickly, finding himself clothed in loose joggers and resting on their bed with a knitted blanket wrapped around him.

Was he really asleep for that long?

He rubbed at his eyes and noticed that the cuts on his body were nearly healed by the medigel, but the remnants of the heavy bruising still remained.  It’s going to take a couple of applications to get rid of that, and Regis preferred healing things like that naturally, not liking the feeling of medigel unless it was necessary.

Kaidan had changed into a blue sweater and jeans, sleeves rolled up.  “You fell asleep on Zaeed.  He cleaned you up and got you tucked in.  Only been about thirty, forty-five minutes.”

Looking around the room, he saw no sign of Zaeed.  “Took care of me and bailed?” he chuckled.  

“He’s out there with Vik and Ash.  She wasn’t about to let Wrex stop her from checking up on you,” he explained.  

Ah, Ash is here too?  Great.  He wanted to hear her thoughts on this mess before his apartment becomes home base for whatever the hell is going on.  

“Good. Go ahead and send them up for me.  And can you hand me one of my sweaters?” He asked.

“Of course, love.  One of your off the shoulder ones?” He replied, opening one of the drawers after typing a quick message on his omnitool. 

“Yeah.  Vik needs easy access to my port.  Are you going to get yours checked out while they’re here?” Regis asked after Kaidan handed him the sweater.

“Nah, they already ran some basic diags.  All my outputs are good, so they’re not worried.  We use different amps anyway.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have tried that fucking Savant.  Work well but get pissy if you mod them,” Regis muttered as he pulled on the black, loose sweater.  

“You modded a Savant?” Kaidan shook his head.  “I doubt the Serrice Council will take kindly to that.  Reason number one why I don’t use their stuff.  Too damn regulated.”

“Hey, they have great outputs that are even better if you overclock them,” Regis defended.  It’s not that he liked the Savants, but rather he enjoyed beating them down into submission. 

“And that’s why I stick to HMBA.  Modifiable, open source to Spectres, and I’m not breaking any terms of service in the process,” Kaidan said with a pointed look.

“Regis, my darling, you know how much I hate the Savant line,” Vik said as they entered the room, carrying a case full of their supplies.  “If you’re going to go crazy, use one of my Armali mods if you must.”

“Armali has shitty power output,” Regis said, crossing his arms. 

“Which is why I modded them,” they repeated.  “I even have a license in order to do so.”

“Don’t argue with the doc, Regis,” Ashley said, leaning against the doorway.  “We need to get you back out there so we can deal with the bastards who decided to target you.”

Regis rolled his eyes.  “Good to see you too, Ash.  Keeping my crew in check?”

“Only had to shut down a few who thought it was unfortunate you destroyed their favorite restaurant.”

“Thanks,” he nodded.  

“No problem,” she waved it off.  “Zaeed’s currently deciding if he wants to go down there and give the crew a piece of his mind or continue his debate with Wrex.”

“Do I even want to know what they’re arguing about?” Regis asked, watching Vik place their case on his weapon bench and take out some supplies.  

“Last I heard they were bitching about shotgun mods,” Kaidan said, crossing his arms.  

“It’s gotten worse.  Inferno versus Warp grenades,” Ashley said, almost sounding grim.

“Inferno grenades are superior.  If you’re going to Warp someone, do it right from the get-go.  No external hardware required,” Vik said, walking back over to the bed, omnitool active and diagnostic tools in hand.  “Sit up straight for me.”

Regis did as they said and closed his eyes as Vik felt for the synth-skin covering his wetware, housed just underneath his Torfan tattoo–the black skull that used to represent his squad.  “Ah, there we go.  Dare I say that Cerberus improved on interfacing?” They commented, raising up their omnitool and inputting a code.  

Regis felt a twinge as his cybernetics adapted to the code, pulling the skin away to reveal the port underneath.  “Which is why I’m working with Miranda to adapt this technology on a consumer level.”

“And you two are doing impressive work.  Cannot wait to see it leave the trials.  You are going to revolutionize biotic interfacing and so much more,” Vik said.  “Kaidan, how is it working on you?”

He rubbed his neck.  “Feels weird having easy access to my ports again, but I knew what I signed up for when I kept mine underneath the skin for better protection.  Never liked the idea of exposed ports.”

Vik hummed as they scanned the port for any abnormalities.  “I don’t see anything concerning.  Just a temperature spike that caused the amp to shut down before rebooting.  What were you doing when it shorted?”

“Trying to levitate down when I fell from that fucking fish tank,” Regis said, keeping his head still.  

“Ah.  Well, it’s going to happen again if you do anything intensive like that, I’m afraid.  Were you able to do feats like that previously with no issues?”

“Been a while since I’ve had to do a maneuver like that, so honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever tested that specific mnemonic with it.  Handled everything else I threw at it,” Regis admitted.

“Say it with me–” Vik started to say, but Regis interrupted him.

“Yes, yes, I know, test all maneuvers with any new amp and any new mods,” Regis sighed.  “Been a little slow lately, so I never got around to testing everything.”

“Regis…” Kaidan started, getting that tone of voice that meant Kaidan was more than a little annoyed with him. 

“Yeah, I know,” he repeated, closing his eyes.  “I won’t do any more experimenting with my amps without testing everything I do.  Happy?”

“Only once I see it in practice,” Kaidan said, his voice taking on a lower tone.  

“Ah great, you two are flirting,” Ashley said, exasperated.  “Keep that up and I’m leaving.  Don’t need to hear how you solve problems.”

Kaidan chuckled.  “Sometimes he makes it so easy.”

“He is right here,” Regis muttered.  “Vik, can you remove it already?”

“Of course.  What do you want me to replace it with?” they replied, professional as ever.  

“How are your Armali mods?  I like the blending they provide, but again, I miss the better power output in return.”

Vik grabbed the sealed container housing the chip.  “Very comparable to an overclocked HMBA.  You’ll still find that HMBA has better power outputs, but you lose out on the blending you prefer to do.  HMBA is perfect for more controlled powers versus on the fly.  Armali will allow you to stick to your style without sacrificing too much.  If you hate it we can swap it out for something else.  I probably won’t be offended.”

Regis mulled it over in his head.  HMBA isn’t a bad amp per se, but he wasn’t too fond of its rigidity.  Which suited Kaidan just fine, as he tended to stick to one mnemonic at a time, giving time to cool down and settle his field in between.  

Regis was a speedcaster, switching and twisting mnemonics together to create reactions and unpredictable attacks only his lovers and most trusted companions know how to read.  Sure, he could stick to rigidity if needed.  But after Cerberus, he almost seemed to do far better with on-the-fly adjustments than ever before.

He blames it on the constant feeling of survival he felt while trapped in their claws, his biotics never quite the same since his resurrection. Kaidan always reassured that his field felt the same, when their coronas would intersect and twine with each other on the battlefield and in the bedroom.

But he could never shake the feeling that his biotics turned into their own beast after Lazarus.  

“Let’s try it.  If not, I’ll follow Kaidan’s route and trick out a HMBA,” Regis said.  He caught Kaidan’s gaze, and he looked so smug.  Bastard.  He’ll wipe that smirk off his face once he gets his amp back in order and kicks everyone out of his apartment…

“Great.  Now, take a deep breath for me,” Vik said, reaching in to disconnect the amp.  Regis breathed in slowly, waiting to feel the detachment.

He shuddered as Vik pulled out the amp, feeling like he was dunked in cold water, his veins turning to ice.  The corona pulsed around him once before winking out in a flash.  “Fuck,” he muttered, taking slow, deep breaths, his heart racing.  

“That’s what happens when you swap out an amp?” Ashley asked.  “Damn… how does it feel?”

“Getting dunked in cold water,” Kaidan said, face pinched in discomfort.  “Feeling sluggish even though your movements are clear.  Feeling like your sensations are both heightened and diminished.”

“Exactly,” Regis said.  “Feels different for every biotic, but most L2s tend to get the same effects.  More intense.”

“Afraid it's not much different for us,” Vik said, dropping the amp into a separate container. “Technically I’ll need to report this to Serrice, but they also won’t take kindly to someone interfering with their settings.  Even if you’re a Spectre.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Ashley asked.  “Come on, we can bend the rules.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.  I’ll wipe the logs with my software, fudge the numbers, and they won’t look at it any more than usual because they’re getting it from me,” Vik explained.  “Anything for you, Reggie.”

And there’s Vik’s way of showing that they’re doing him a massive favor.  Goddammit.  

“Wait, Reggie ?” Ashley repeated, her face breaking out into a grin.  “How have I not heard that before?”

If his amp port wasn’t open, he would’ve started strangling Vik already.

“Oops,” Vik said, not sounding sorry at all.  “Anyway, ready for the insert?”

“Do it,” Regis said with gritted teeth.  “So, I can strangle you faster.”

“Hmm, maybe I have more diagnostics to do.  Read some more logs.  Get a good picture of your outputs…” Vik chuckled and turned to Ashley.  "Childhood nickname that he secretly loves.  Don’t deny it!”

“Does that mean you have childhood pictures too?  Please, I need to see them,” Ashley said.  “He must’ve been so cute!”

“I was fucking adorable,” Regis said, interrupting their conversation.  “You can see all the baby pictures you want after you reseat my amp.”  Ashley gave him a cheeky thumbs-up, looking expectantly at Kaidan, who held up his omnitool to prepare a data transfer.  Traitor.  

“Breath in deep for me, darling,” Vik said, taking the new amp out of its case.  

Regis breathed in while they inserted the amp, his corona igniting in a bright violet in response.  He exhaled as he let his corona surround him, keeping a handle on biotics from flaring out, adjusting to the difference in outputs on the fly.  As a test, he pulled the scope sitting on his bench towards him.  It flew towards him quickly, landing in his hand without a hitch.  “Much better,” Regis sighed, crossing his legs into his meditative position, allowing himself to slowly levitate with a push off the bed before settling down.  

“Beautiful,” Vik observed.  “I think you’ll find that my amp will rank among the best.”  They finished up by scanning it once more and resealing the synth-skin with another code.  Regis rubbed at the now-sealed skin once finished, itching slightly after it meshed back together. 

“I don’t even know if I can test it fully with all this shit going on,” Regis said, retracting his field.  Kaidan’s biotics had reacted in kind, a subtle blue field around his eyes glowed while the rest of his corona was carefully hidden.  

“Armax is just down the street,” Ashley said.  “Surely we can get a few matches in.”

“Depending on what we find out,” Kaidan said, crossing his arms.  “None of the Spectre channels had anything that stood out, and I couldn’t get Hackett on the comm.  I could contact Hannah, but I figured you wanted to keep this on the downlow.” 

“Fair enough.  She’ll be worried, and I don’t want to deal with that right now.” Regis looked down at his loungewear.  “If I’m going to talk with the crew, I’m getting changed into something different.”

“You and your appearances,” Vik muttered, packing up their stuff.  “Need me to hang out while you debrief?” “If you want,” Regis said.  

VIk shrugged.  “Might need someone to patch all of you up.  Karin is at some sort of conference right now, right?”

Ashley nodded.  “Yeah, she’s sorry she can’t make it.  And both Kaidan and I told her to stay put.”

“Then I’ll hang around.  Ash, let’s sort through some pictures,” Vik said, offering a hand.  Ashley took it with a grin, leaving Kaidan and Regis in their bedroom.  He tugged off his sweater, looking through the closet until he found another one of his black button downs and slacks, pulling them on before grabbing a pair of socks.  

“Feel better?” Kaidan teased, eyeing him up and down before grabbing both his hands.  He leaned in for a kiss, and Regis returned it, soft and full of yearning.  Hesitant to break apart, they both kept chasing each other.  Regis removed his hands from his and pulled Kaidan in closer, cupping his neck and tangling a hand in his hair, breathing in his scent and his love.  They finally broke apart after Kaidan started to kiss down his neck, peppering light kisses on Regis’s tattoo, stopping at the skin showing at the unbuttoned collar.  “You smell better, too.”

“And here I thought you had more tact than Zaeed,” Regis rolled his eyes.  “We better head down before they all assume we’re doing something else.”

“Probably too late for that,” he chuckled, reaching for Regis’s hand again.  “Come on.”

They walked downstairs, hand-in-hand.  Zaeed whistled at them, changed into a short sleeve white button down and jeans.  “Beginning to think I needed to break you two up.”

“Or join them,” Ashley piped up, sitting on the couch next to Vik.  

“Says you,” Regis said, directed at Zaeed, the two of them joining him by the fireplace.  “Shall I tell the gang what you wanted to do to me earlier?”

“Might need to be more specific.  I probably said a lot of things,” he laughed.  

Regis shook his head as Wrex walked over to the door, letting Moreau and Brooks in.  “Finally!” Brooks exclaimed.  “You know, I can’t believe you survived all that.  They had guns!  And grenades!  And those drone things!”

“As did Cerberus and nearly every other organization I’ve had to fight against,” Regis said, opening his omnitool.  “Has anyone contacted C-Sec?  Need to get Bailey read in on this.”

“Okay, that sounds… Wait!  Wouldn’t that make whoever you contact a target too?” Brooks interjected, resting her chin on her hand.

Regis narrowed his eyes.  “It’s C-Sec.  You know, the security force onboard this station?”

“Honestly Shepard, she has a point,” Moreau said.  “Do we even need to take that risk?”

Regis sighed and shut off his omnitool.  “Fair enough. Guess we run this ourselves like everything else.”

“Wow, you agreed with me?  Can you say it again?” Moreau asked eagerly, a grin on his face. 

Regis gave him an annoyed look, about to tell him to bring up the rest of the crew when Brooks rambled, “Right.  Ourselves.  On our own.  Outside the law.  Okay, yeah.”

Even Kaidan started to look frustrated, a pinched expression on his face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed together.  “Brooks, you need to focus,” Kaidan said.  “You have a team of Alliance soldiers, Spectres, and top operatives from different species.  If you can’t handle this, I suggest you sit this out and let us handle it.”

“I can’t sit this out!” She replied, balling her hands in fists.

“Fine,” Regis said, staring her down.  “But this is my operation, and you will work under my orders.  If I find that you are a liability to us and the mission, I will contact whoever I deem necessary to deal with the situation and damn the consequences.  Clear?”

“Crystal,” she said with a nod, her voice surprisingly steady.  

He can’t get a read on her.  Maybe she’s too green, trying to over and undercompensate.  It’s been a while since Regis has dealt with anyone in Intelligence that wasn’t a high rank, and a lot of people did join up after the war.  

Perhaps he should withhold his judgment of her for now, skewed by his frustration at the whole situation.

“How did you even get involved in this mess?” Ashley asked.  

She straightened up.  “I monitor data for Alliance Intel to prevent fraud and hacking of officer IDs.  Like someone using an admiral’s pass to get into a nightclub on the Citadel when that admiral is currently stationed on Pinnacle.  I wrote a tracking program.  It’s really neat!   I named it ‘Mr. Biscuits’ after my cat.”

“Brooks,” Ashley said, getting her attention.

“Right!  Sorry… Anyway, my program detected a breach in your classified files.  Soon, everything we had on you was compromised: personnel files, mission reports, everything.”

Regis swore, shaking his head.  “So, what you’re telling me is that they now have access to my military codes?  My Spectre codes?  Explains why they wanted to kill me.”

“Nothing to stop them until the damage is done,” Wrex said with a nod.  

Regis looked at his crew, his gaze lingering on Kaidan and Zaeed.  “Then we need to figure out who they are and shut them down.  Ideas?”

“What about that pistol you picked up?  A goddamn work of art,” Zaeed said, motioning to the M-11 still sitting on the table.  

“Damn thing is so tiny I thought I was going to fucking break it,” Regis said, picking it up.  “Packs a punch like a mini-Widow.”

The door chimed and Kaidan moved to check on whoever was at the door.  A moment later he opened it to reveal Wren with her omnitool out.  

“Hey Wren!” Ash waved.  “Glad you could join us.”

“Of course!  Been doing some research on my own.  Glyph can hopefully give us some insight on that cute little pistol you have,” she replied, summoning up the drone.

“Did you ever get all the bugs fixed?” Regis chuckled.  “Stubborn little guy.”

“Not really…” she trailed off, staring at the cyan drone.  “It still bugs out some, but it is less bound to misinterpret orders.  85 percent of the time.  Anyway, Glyph, start looking into this M-11.”

“I’ll begin collating relevant intel for review, Major Clarkson,” Glyph said, discs spinning. 

“Well, I’m glad to see you in one piece.  Hell of a fall back there,” she said, holding out her hand.  

He shook it with a firm grip.  “I’m alright.  Still healing up, but I’m ready to deal with whatever happens next.”

“Good to hear.  You know, you did the galaxy a favor getting rid of that place.  Overpriced, overrated, and some of the blandest food I’ve ever had,” she said, shaking her head.  “Saved me the trip of having to take it down myself, if you know what I mean.”

She turned to Brooks.  “Come with me.  Catch me up on what we know.”  Brooks nodded and followed her to the dining table in the back of the kitchen.  

“Well, Wren’s on point,” Wrex said.  “So, where’s the rest of your crew?”

Moreau held up his omnitool.  “Getting that covered right… now.”

The door chimed.  Regis waved his omnitool to unlock it remotely.  

“Had to gather some people who actually like getting shot at, you know,” he said as EDI walked in, flanked by Tali, Cortez, and Javik.  

“Permission to come aboard, Admiral?” Tali asked cheekily.

Regis grinned.  “I don’t know.  This is my quiet place after all.”

“Good to see you doing okay.  Wasn’t sure how to react after I heard what happened,” she replied, hugging him from the side, her knitted poncho swaying with the gesture.  “Say, how did you get roped up into going to a sushi restaurant?”

“Thought Moreau was pulling a fast one on me and wanted to put him in his place,” he replied, glancing over at Moreau who ignored him in favor of talking with EDI by the bar.  “Turns out it was an assassination attempt.”

“It’s never a dull day, is it?” She laughed.  “Ah well.  I got a little bit of relaxation in, and that’s all that matters.”

Kaidan and Zaeed rejoined him by his side after catching up with some of the crew.  He turned to face both of them, lit by the fireplace.  “You know, it was nice to see you two in action at the car lot.  It was pretty hot.”

Both Ashley and Tali groaned.  “Really, Regis?” Tali said, sitting down on the couch next to Ashley.  Vik looked amused, watching them with a barely concealed glee.

He ignored them.  Kaidan crossed his arms, nudging Zaeed with his shoulder.  “Why, thank you.”

“We try,” Zaeed smirked.  

Regis smiled, feeling his cheeks heat up.  “What would I do without you both?”

“You’ll never find out,” Kaidan said as Zaeed chuckled, “There’s no goddamn way you’ll ever find out.”

“God, you three are so sickening,” Ashley said, shaking her head.

“Which is why we keep them on their toes!” Tali said, giving them all a look.  “Time and a place.”

“This is my apartment.  I’m going to do whatever I want in it,” Regis shot back as Zaeed kissed his cheek.  

“You tell them, babe.”

Regis shook his head.  “I’m going to check in with the crew, and hopefully soon Wren wil have figured something out.”

“Are we embarrassing you, love?” Kaidan asked.  “Go on, do your job.”

“I’m not the only Admiral here.”

“And yet you’re the one who is in charge of the ship.”

Regis gave him a look and twitched his fingers, sending a small burst of dark energy to shock Kaidan.  He walked away with a smirk, knowing his gaze was following him as he walked over to Moearu and EDI.

“You know, he used me as bait,” he said, sitting at the bar.

“Yes.  You have mentioned that a few times, Jeff,” she replied.  “A sound solution.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m on the side of data, which states that Shepard’s strategy ensured that you got out with minimal injuries.”

“My pride is injured.”

“An unfortunate side effect that is rectified by personal growth and reflection,” she replied, not missing a beat.  

Yeah, they’re fine.  No need to interrupt.

Steve was sitting at the bar in the back of his apartment, away from all the chaos.  Probably the quietest part of his place at the moment.  “Hey Shepard.  Glad you made it out okay.”

“Hey Steve,” Regis said, sitting down next to him.  “Adrian didn’t join us?”

He shook his head.  “Nah, said something about a job he needed to look into.  He’ll try to stop by later, wanting me to tell you he is worried about you.  But I know he’s not going to miss out on spending time with Vik so…” He trailed off, a knowing look in his eye.  “I should’ve brought Tomas into this.”

“Coats would’ve been great to have on hand,” Regis said with a nod.  “I’ve been meaning to ask if he wants to transfer on board the Normandy.  Thoughts?”

“You matchmaker,” Steve said, blushing.  “If you can make it happen and he’s fine with being on board our little circus, I’m okay with that.”

“Of course, anything for my crew.”

“Almost anything,” Steve corrected.  “After that fiasco, never go out to eat with Joker!”

“Not that I ever enjoyed going out with him before,” Regis chuckled.  “If I need a pilot in this mess, you’ll be the first I’ll call.”

“I’m sure Joker will take offense to that.”

“He knows I prefer you on the shuttle excursions.  He’s a bit too… showy,” Regis said, shaking his head.  

“Oh, I agree.  Time and a place.  Finesse is what’s needed for drop-ins.”

“Admiral,” Javik greeted as he joined them.  “Much quieter back here.”

Regis motioned for him to sit down, but he stayed standing.  “It is.  Calm before the storm.  Anything you want to say?”

He shook his head.  “Nothing that hasn’t already been said.  This is a first for me.  Never heard of anyone in my cycle falling through a fish tank.”

“Wasn’t exactly my fault,” Regis said with a pointed look.  “Blame the mercs.”

“I think I’m going to enjoy teaching them a lesson,” he grinned, showing pointed, thin teeth.  “I heard our Broker say she found something out.  Maybe it will be useful to us.”

“Thanks, Javik.”

He walked down the hallway to join Wren and Brooks.  “If you’re ready, I already found something.”

“Want me to go ahead and gather the team?” Regis asked.  

“Please do.  The faster the better,” she said, not looking up from her portable terminal.

Regis announced for everyone to huddle up, and soon enough, the crew was around the dining table, waiting for Wren’s announcement.  Like always, Kaidan and Zaeed stood next to him, flanking him on both sides.

Wren looked around the table, seemingly counting off everyone before clearing her throat.  “We have a lead.  I called in some favors to run a trace on the gun.”  She typed something on her terminal that brought up a picture of an older man.  “Which brought me to Elijah Khan.  A casino owner who has been suspected of using his profits to smuggle weapons into the Citadel.”

“I found it interesting that after the attempt on Regis’s life, Khan made a call.”  She pulled up the audio, the picture changing to a basic media player.

“I’m cutting you off and returning your down payment now.”  The first voice must be Khan, sounding frustrated, perhaps even panicked.

“What’s the problem?”  Someone replied, their voice sounding altered to stay anonymous.  

“Turn on a vidscreen!  When I sell a gun, I don’t want it showing up on the nightly news!”  Great.  Guess he needs to expect an interview or two in the future.  

“You won’t be linked to me,” the voice replied.

“Save it.  Our association is terminated.  And if you even think about coming after me, I’ve got info on you ready for prime time, so you ponder that.  Khan out.”

The call ended, and Regis crossed his arms against his chest.  “Found our identity thief.”

“Unfortunately, they have an ID disguiser,” Vik nearly groaned.  “Not even Adrian can get around those reliably.”

Regis sighed.  “I was afraid of that.  Anyway, did you find anything on the mercs?  Affiliations, origins, any of that shit?”

Wren nodded, looking grim.  “A PMC named CAT-6.  As most of you should know, it’s the Alliance term for dishonorable discharge.  Criminal records, steroid use, violent histories… you know the drill.  Definitely hired by the thief, no association with Khan.”

“Good job with the phone call,” Kaidan said in approval. 

“We can lean on Khan, probably get him to squeal,” Zaeed said, looking down at the gun.  “Throw in a few Spectre threats and we can get him to talk all while taking the goddamn bastard down.”

Wren shook her head.  “If only it were that easy.  The casino has a panic room and chances are, he’ll go to ground there.”

“I would suggest providing programs to hack the doors alongside your own security,” EDI started to say, turning to face Regis and Wren.  “But there are many guards and cameras on the premises.”

“Yeah.” Brooks said, adjusting her hat.  “He could disappear or worse.  If his guards ever open fire, normal people could get hit.  Like I did.”

He hated to admit she had a point.  But ‘normal’ people?  Seriously?  “I agree.  We can’t risk any civilians that could be targeted by our actions.  So, we go in quiet.  Small team.  No gunplay.”

Glyph reappeared on the table.  “Major Clarkson.  This evening the casino will be hosting a charity event to continue to assist refugees from the war.”

Wren smiled.  “Perfect.  Purchase some tickets and pull up a layout of the building.”

A holographic display of the casino appeared with a few key points highlighted on the map.

“This is great and all… but how close can we get?  Who puts a backdoor in a panic room?” Moreau asked.

“Allow me,” EDI said, stepping forward and adjusting the sleeves on her button down, her visor changing blue as she interacted with the map.  Parts of the map changed red, highlighting air shafts and vents.  “This air shaft bypasses the security gate and ends up in storage.  From there, the panic room’s door-camera can be disabled.”

“This isn’t just any casino,” Kaidan said, tilting his head to the side.  “There has to be alarms in the shaft.”

“I have some countermeasures that should help.  I’ll know more once our team gets inside,” Wren said, swiping to another screen on her terminal.  

Javik looked at the map, resting his chin on his fingers.  “Whoever goes inside that shaft needs to be small in size.”

Wrex laughed.  “Yeah, that’s not me.” He gestured down at his armor.

Everyone’s gaze slowly fell on Tali.  She shook her head.   “I’ve done my time in the vents before.  And besides, my suit’s built in tech will be picked up by the sensors.”

EDI piped up.  “My presence in the casino would arouse suspicion.  Mechs are not allowed since they can have cheating software, even if I wore my mech’s synth skin.”

Ashley held up her hands.  “I can do infiltration, but not this kind of infiltration.  Sorry, but no.  You’ll need me for backup if things go south.”

Brooks looked at all of them. “What you need is somebody trained in zero-emissions tech.  No electronics, no metal.  Just undetectable polymers.  We had a course back at Op-Int, disabling a bomb with these little tweezers.  See, the bomb was filled with shaving cream…”

They didn’t have many options.  Regis, Kaidan, and Zaeed were all too large and filled with tech and would likely be the main ones on the field.  EDI and Tali were ruled out.  Same for Javik and Wrex.  Steve didn’t speak up during the meeting, but Regis wasn’t about to volunteer him.  Vik’s implants and enhancements to improve their skills as a surgeon also prevented them from doing it.  Wren’s running the operation.  

Looks like it has to be Brooks.  And Regis was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

Regis met Brooks's gaze.  “All right.  You’re in.”

She stepped back.  “What?  No… What?!”

Regis gestured around him.  “You said it yourself.  We’ve all got too much tech.  And it’s too risky to bring anyone else in.”

“But… I managed to get shot just coming to talk to you!  Now I’m supposed to hack my way into a safe room?” Brooks replied, shaking her head.

“Getting shot was something no one would have planned for,” Kaidan offered.  “There was no way to know that the mercs were already after Regis.”

“Exactly,” Zaeed said with a nod.  “None of this is a typical situation and none of us have any goddamn options.”

She still looked hesitant, so Regis spoke up.  “I recall saying to you that this is my operation and you will be working under my orders.  Listen to our orders and focus.  You have a team backing you up.”

She let out a sigh and nodded.  Maybe this will teach her some confidence.

Or cause this whole operation to go down in flames.  

Wren clapped her hands together.  “Great!  Now that everything is settled, there is one last hurdle to get us inside.”

“Which is?” Regis prompted, raising an eyebrow. 

She grinned.  “Black tie required.”

“Oh hell yes,” Regis said, damn near cheering.  “It’s a good thing I didn’t waste my best suit on you, Moreau!”  Kaidan also looked pleased, but Zaeed started to frown, never quite enjoying looking nice.  

It took him no time at all after their wedding for him to start taking down his suit, leaving him in his button down while Regis and Kaidan stayed in their finery until that evening.

He’s going to enjoy dressing them all up to match and shutting up Zaeed’s bitching about the matter.

“I take so much offense to that,” he replied, shaking his head.  “Are we all going into the casino?  Or is it just these crazy lovebirds over here.”

“Small team.  So just those three and Brooks,” Wren replied, pulling up the tickets.  “The rest of us will say close, but outside, ready to react if need be.”

“When does it start?” Kaidan asked.  “How much time do we have?”

“It’s supposed to go on for the entire evening late into early morning, so we can get there at any time.  Fashionably late or just on time.  Doesn’t matter to me as long as we get inside,” Wren said.  “Now, let’s give our infiltration specialists time to get changed, shall we?”

WIth the meeting over, everyone dispersed, going back to hang out in the apartment, some deciding to leave to grab their gear so they’ll be ready to go if something happens.  Luckily, they all had spare versions of their preferred hardsuits lying around along with their main gear, so at a moment’s notice the triad can be prepared for anything.  

“Don’t take too long up there, boys,” Ashley said as she walked back to the couch.  

“You have nothing to worry about.  Regis is a goddamn tyrant when it comes to fashion,” Zaeed muttered, heading over to the stairs.  “I’m sure he’s scheming already.”

“I have an idea in mind,” Regis replied, walking up the stairs.  He stopped at the doorway, ensuring none of the nosy crew were within earshot.  “But you know you love it.  All three of us, matching on and off the battlefield, showing that I’m yours and you are mine. ”

“Don’t fret, love,” Kaidan said, wrapping an arm around Zaeed’s shoulders.  “Just think, afterwards we might be able to make that promise to Regis happen.  Except this time, it’s all of us.”

“And I’ll say it again: You aren’t going to ruin my damn suit,” he shot back, opening their closet to pull out three wrapped suits.  One with red detailing, one with blue detailing, and one with yellow detailing.  The human crew sometimes joked about them being the primary colors, but Regis didn’t care.  

All they cared about was looking damn good, and Regis ensured that both on and off the battlefield.  Fabrics made of strong synthetics, able to take a few hits if need be.  Able to tolerate light action.

And be ready for any format event that is thrown at them, like this.  

“A three piece?” Zaeed asked, slipping off the protective sleeve.  “Hmm.  Not bad.  When did you get these ordered?”

“A while back.  Wanted them for our anniversary… but I thought they would be great for this,” Regis said, running his hand down the fabric.  “What do you think?” he asked softly.

“Beautiful work,” Kaidan said.  “Can’t wait to see all of us in them, stealing the show.”

“And that’s the whole point,” Regis said, moving to kiss his cheek.  “Is it bad to say I’m actually looking forward to this?”

“Nah, I know you love showing us off,” Zaeed replied.  “Still doing okay?”

He nodded.  “Thanks, by the way.” “No need to thank me, baby.  Though I did panic a bit when you damn near went limp in my arms.  You needed the rest.  I only wish it was longer.”

“Me too.  I wanted to join the both of you,” Kaidan said, glancing over at the tub.  “Duty called and it still does.”

“It never stops,” Regis agreed.  “Hopefully we’ll get some time to ourselves after this.  We can’t be running this mission without stopping, and I want our apartment back.”

“I’m sure Vik and Ashley will ensure we get all the time we need to ourselves,” Zaeed said, starting to take off his clothes and put on the new suit.  “Or I will make sure of it.”

“You’ll hear no complaints from me, love,” Regis replied.  “Seeing you both out there…”

If he wasn’t covered in fish water, debris, and who knows what else, he would’ve shown his appreciation right then and there.  

“Love, your competency kink is showing,” Kaidan chuckled, moving over to the mirror to gel up his hair.  

“Can you blame me?”

“You know, there’s a reason why we chose those suits to wear…” Kaidan trailed off, heat behind his gaze.  

They continued to chat, recapping the events of earlier today and ensured they all had the details squared way before the event later tonight.

If it wasn’t soured by the threat over his head, Regis would loosen up, enjoy the evening as Regis Shepard-Massani-Alenko, giving interviews, press, and showing off his lovers.  Instead, he has to be careful to not draw any more attention than usual, and worry about the people around them, in case their assailant strikes while he’s vulnerable once more.  

Putting on the suit felt like putting on armor, immediately falling into his media presence persona.  How he wished he could be Regis at this moment, and not the ruthless Admiral.

But this time, he ensured he put the real rings on, the bands replacing the silicone ones that somehow survived the action of the day.  To his utter adoration, his husbands did the same, their commitments to each other shining in the light of their bedroom.

All ready for whatever comes next.  A casino heist at a charity event… if Regis knew where Kasumi was, she would be utterly delighted.

Just another day for Regis and his crew.

[the-final-sif]

Hello, sorry to bother if you've already gone over this but I'm not the most tech savvy person, what exactly could metadata from snapchat tell us in this situation?

Ah! No this is actually a totally fair question and something that I should've explained before. I forgot that is not a common term and it can mean a lot of things.

So!! To start off with defining what Metadata is, it's "data about data". This is usually easiest to understand with emails. If I have the following email:

Subject: hello From: hello@arealemail.com To: hello@totallyrealemail.com Body: this is a message, see my attached photo Sent 5/6/1954 Attachment: photo.png

Then the "body" would usually be considered the "data" along with the photo itself, and everything else would be metadata. Who sent the message, who it was sent to, what kind of information it is, links to the attachment, etc. All of that is metadata.

So, in the case we have here, Snapchat is the place where Amanda has alleged sexting occurred and Dream sent her sexual photos/videos. She has not provided and has stated she does not have any evidence of these photos/videos. However, she's narrowed down a very slim window of time (under a month) in which Dream would've needed to send at the very least, photos and video files, to her in order for her claims to be true.

Snapchat does not save the actual data (text, video file, photo file) once the file is deleted by the user, however, Snapchat does still save the relevant metadata for a period after that. Metadata can't tell you what was sent, but it can tell if something was sent.

According to Snapchat, they usually delete metadata after 30 days. However, I've seen a variety of reports on how true that is, so it's possible that metadata from before that period may be accessible. Maybe. I think that accessible snapchat records from January may not be possible, but some stuff might still be there.

If snapchat metadata records could be accessed, it could provided information on stuff like how many messages were sent between the accounts, what kind of messages, etc. If Dream is able to access those earlier records and prove that messages between him and Amanda were sparse (or do not line up with the messages alleged by her), then that would be significant evidence that her allegations are fake.

In order for Amanda to prove her claims, she would need the metadata from January to still be accessible and contain at bare minimum, metadata showing that Dream sent at least one video file and I think a few image files although I can't recall the exact number she claimed. It wouldn't be enough for a criminal trial, since there would be nothing to prove that those files have what she claims they have, but it might provided reasonable doubt in a civil trial. That's assuming it exists in the first place, which we don't know.

In the case of Instagram, they do keep records of unsent messages and can produce them, so in the case of the messages that Amanda removed, Instagram should be able to produce both the data and metadata for those messages. For a civil case, Dream could use that in two ways. First, he would be able to know exactly what messages Amanda deleted (since we know there are at least 3) and add those back in for context. Second, if she deleted those messages right before she made/uploaded her video, then that would show a level of intentional alteration which would hurt her a lot in court.

Anyways, that's basically what we'd see from the metadata in question. What can be accessed/still exists is up in the air, so we'll find out about that eventually with any luck.

[alightbuthappypen]

Talk Shop Tuesday: If you could immediately pluck one story/concept/idea from your brain and have it fully formed in front of you, exactly as you would want, what would that idea be?

Hello! Is this a thing? How lovely.

Right now the answer would probably be 'all of them' because the creative energy is low but to narrow it down...

Fic-wise probably the Mo Manor canon divergence that's been kicking around in my head for a long time (in short: Lan Wangji finds Wei Wuxian at Mo Manor, whisks him off and they remove themselves from the narrative to slow-burn in a cottage in the woods for a bit with temporary success). It's long, primarily vibes, and I've already made two aborted attempts at it, so it's uncertain whether I'll ever actually write it. If I could magic it into reality so I could wallow in those vibes without having to actually outline a plot, that would be ideal.

Art-wise, hmm. On the whole art isn't as time consuming for me as writing and I usually enjoy the process more, and I feel that most of my ideas will probably get done eventually. I suppose the exception is comics - there are definitely scenes from fics I've read that I'd love to adapt into comic pages, but comics are really time consuming, in both the planning and execution, even for artists who are well practiced in the form. For me, as it stands, they feel like an impossibility. So yes it would be nice to magically pop those into reality.

Thanks anon! This was a fun surprise in my inbox :)