#i just gotta recall stuff before my memory kicks it out

[hoaxghost]

We never even talked about this project in depth or had it come up, why did he make us do this

[tac0tesseract]

Time Split

((Edit: Tumblr keeps eating the time-split formatting so I'm putting it in as an image instead fhejrkfhjkehjk ))

“Try it on me.”

“I will not.”

“But I have to understand.” Emma grinned, holding her arms out to the side as if needing to make herself a larger target somehow mattered here. “I can't get better at this if I can't think the way that you do.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know that's not how it works.”

“I knooooowwww, but I can at least do my best to get as close as possible. That's why we're such a good team! I do the 3D-thinking, you do the 4D, and by our powers combined…”

The smile grew. “We're invincible.”

“Yes!”

Sam sighed, though the smile remained, and he paced a little upon his projection pad. She got the sense he'd be pacing the room if he could; that he'd love nothing more than to move around so freely. It was an existence he did his best not to think about – genuinely desiring the orderly reprieve his chains brought him, while fiercely lamenting their limits. Emma wanted to do more research on how to extend his reach, but she knew that particular search history would not go unnoticed – or appreciated – on their network. Queen was giving her enough grief over Sam as it was.

“Very well,” Sam said at last. “But if I sense even a mote of discomfort, I'm returning you to normal.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course it's going to be uncomfortable. I'm a monkey! You've gotta give me time to get used to it.”

That seemed to amuse him. The flowing nebula of his hair rippled in what she'd come to know was his silent laughter. Without further ceremony, Sam extended a hand to her with his fingers pinched together. And when he opened them

It was in that instant that her own startled will kicked in, and Emma somehow snapped herself back into one piece. She sat on the floor like she'd just fallen down the stairs and stared up at him moon-eyed. His arms were still extended as if he'd meant to catch her. Sam slowly straightened. His hair went wild.

“Well that's new.”

“Have you ever used it on a person before?”

“You know how I'm going to answer that.”

Right. Never ask 'have you ever' of a Didymos.

~*~

It was a strange memory to recall in this moment, but Emma couldn't help it – not as she watched the truck-bomb split with that same telltale static that had once enveloped her. She hadn't asked Sam to do it; he'd simply deemed it necessary, knowing full well the weight of the payload it carried and how many lives depended on it. She braced for the question as to why there were two trucks now. Feren was the only other person here who wasn't spooked by NHPs; probably better to blame the time-split on the Lich and call it a day.

That sent her mind sliding elsewhere, to their earlier conversation – to the idea that she had apparently sent herself a warning from a reality where Sam wasn't there. Emma supposed that there was a timeline where Boss hadn't acquired a Didymos, either because he couldn't or didn't want to, but – surely that was a reality where either Sai got the Lich like he was supposed to, or Emma was too batshit to send herself a warning in the first place. No...the only thing that made sense was that she had somehow lost Sam in that failed timeline. And that thought...that thought made her ill.

Can't trust her...

Was the warning about Sam's killer?

“Argh. Focus...” she muttered at herself, drawing a concerned side-glance from his projection.

“Emma?”

“I'm fine. Careful with the time stuff, though. These guys aren't like our home crew, they're...kinda jumpy about it.”

“I'm not worried.”

She chuckled. “Clearly.”

He turned to her screens, as if he had the physical need to look at them. “Got the virus loaded? I'll help you deliver it. Not expecting much, but I'd still like to see whoever's in there try to keep pace with me.”

“Ooooh, I do like when you get like that, though.” Emma was suddenly glad her helmet was on, so he couldn't see how red she was.

It was a welcome distraction, though.

Over six hundred and thirty people were relying on them.

Once this started, it would be utter pandemonium.

She couldn't afford to think too much right now.

[tales-from-the-blu-team]

"If anyone saw you, I assure you, we'll all know. Whole base has alarms built into it. And If they start banging down my door...we'll get to that." Mac said, pulling up the chair that the cat had been in Before. Currently, she poked her head out, observing.

Cyborg has a lot to say, but Mac didn't mind. It was nice being able to talk to someone who wasn't also a coworker. He liked his team enough, but he didn't want to be on Professional Mode all the time. He supposed he didn't need to, but his years working in the... civilian world... burned it into him.

"Well, Dell doesn't have to deal with the allergies I do." Mac began, lamenting.

He paused, eyes lighting up behind goggles.

"R-really? I- that's amazing." They may have been enemies now, with an uncertain relationship..but he was still family. Still something tied to the outside world and better times he wanted to go back to.

His mind raced with what they could talk about. What they'd do.

"After that one battle, my team wasn't exactly pleased with me just up and being gone like that. Or the fact I'd been kicked back to respawn back to back or quite a bit that day." He sighed. Mac supposed he deserved it but he didn't enjoy it being called out in front of everyone.

"Private, where were your machines when we needed them on the field of battle? You cost us lives and time and ultimately victory!" He recalled, trying to do his best Soldier impression.

At the mention of his death, one of many, he winced. It was never easy for him, even when the others had grown to accept it easier than himself.

"I was going to get killed eventually. We all do here. That was one of the kinder ones still.

Your soldier and Pyro especially. And don't get me started on your Demoman." Mac shuddered at the memories and chaos. A swirl of pain, noise and light. The smell of gasoline and ash. But also blood.

The smell of blood was imprinted into his memory by now. With or without the unfortunately strong sense of smell.

The memory of Heavy loomed over him, threatening to drag Mac back to that one particular day he had decided to pay him a visit. Alone.

The pain in his fingers started to come back. He quickly shook his head trying to free himself of it.

He slowly flexed his fingers, trying to reassure himself he did in fact have all ten.

Mac nodded, along.

"I get where he's coming from. We engineers tend to get protective of our work. Especially if it's something we're depending on a whole lot to save our hide." Of course, Mac was more on board with letting his get destroyed if need Be. It was the Work he'd have to put back into it that he dreaded.

"As for me? Well, fixing my machines and half the base. Place seems to always be one bad day from falling apart no matter what I do." Mac groaned. The Blu base had a box of things people needed him to Fix or build. It never seemed to be going down in volume.

"Other than that? Well..." Mac hesitated before continuing.

"Doc says he's gotta make more allergy meds for me. Gonna take some time so I'm..back to the existing stuff. Nasty stuff." He shuddered..

( tales-from-the-blu-team) Blu engineer, who would rather be known as Mac and back in his old life, came across the cyborg. Eyes taking in the details of this strange figure, he could not help but remark.

" I've never seen you around before? Are..are you a new class? Are we supposed to be getting a tenth teammate?"

Scout. Soldier. Pyro. .. engineer. Heavy. Demoman. Medic. Spy. Sniper. .these were the classes he had grown up knowing and was always destined to work with.

The idea of a new class was...something to get used to

They shrug.

“How am I supposed to know any of that? I’m just here to kill people. Used to be an assassin until I joined RED and my Engie worked his magic on me. Now I’m an assassin but even better. It’s pretty sweet you should try it out.”

He spins around, showing Mac every part of his body, as if to prove his point.

“I mean, if you want your own cyborg, you’re probably gonna have to make em yourself.”

[sublimemintandmango]

I have been thinking abt nothing but possible future "Legends" series games and of course it involves train man so here's my concept for a possible feature.

My favorite part of PLA really is the fact Alpha pokemon will just chase and beat the shit out of you, encouraging the player to be tactical and hide and stuff, so if there's going to be another Legends game and a continuation to Ingo's story (idk tho cus I understand it's tragic and has happened before but his story just feels so unfinished to me) I want one that takes place in Unova around the era when the trains are still relatively new.

I want Emmet sent to the past as well with the same screwed up memories, only that Unova feels so so verry familiar to him but at the same time not. The ancestors of people he knew makes him feel like he knows them but he can't put his finger on it, the most familiar place to him are the trains and tunnels. The various twists and turns of what would soon be Unova's subway in the future is so familiar to him, but he doesn't even know why he knows so much about the place when all he remembers is his name.

The second most familiar thing to him are joltiks, also happens to be a rising issue for the people in Unova -- joltik infestations. With the creation of the rail tunnels and the engineers' decision to use electricity to power the underground carts, joltiks have begun to dwell in these tunnels, and while that seems to be more of a hazard to the safety of the joltiks and galvantulas, joltiks were beginning to appear nearly everywhere.

They feed on the electricity that runs through the underground rail lines and causes the trains to break down and people start making complaints, but people also start telling stories that there's a ghost in the tunnels causing these things to happen because some of them have begun reporting seeing a silhouette of a man while travelling underground. Rather than a the majority complaining about the joltiks, the trains breaking down has become associated with the ghost story of Gear Station's "Tunnel Man."

Emmet, being the reason for the population increase of joltiks and galvantulas, bringing the joltiks from chargestone cave to the subway to snack on the electricity as a treat, remains as a rumored ghost until some poor kids actually go down into the tunnels to look for the Tunnel Man.

Emmet, who hasn't seen another human being in these tunnels for about a year, does not remember how to human, but recalls what he's supposed to do in these tunnels. He sees the pokemon accompanying these kids and immediately the autism kicks in and he doesn't exactly remember his job but he knows he loves battling and that's what he always did so he's like "OH! I fight them!! Yes that is what I do!!" and the last thing they hear is "Aim for Victory!!" before a hoard of galvantula just sweep these poor kids.

Imagine you get sent to the past and land in Unova, you do your little tasks, find out that the land is progressing but still, many wild pokemon are out there and the safest option for travel is the underground tunnels (future subway!!) you go there and there's another power out so you gotta walk. Then somewhere in your 30 minute travel from Anville to Mistralton, there's a man in the tunnels looking like he has not seen the light of day for three years and he sees you. You think it's an npc, or even one of the important characters to encounter for the story. He makes eye contact with you and it's the same type of cut where the "eye-contact with other trainers initiates a battle" type of thing happens but instead of a battle, the game shows the player the "sprint tutorial."

In the Battle Subway, all pokemon participating get adjusted to level 50, so I like to imagine they don't have that technlogy yet because why would they, these tunnels are for travel, not battle. If you do end up fighting Emmet in a battle, it won't matter if you're level 5 or level 32 or level 60, Tunnel Man Emmet's going to be carrying 3-4 pokemon and the first thing he sends out is like a level 88 galvantula. If you beat him, he congratulates you then goes "hope to see you again!" and maybe some stuff he says in his script and the next encounter is always worse than the last. You can get away from his trainer battles if you throw a fluffy tail at him. You have a 3 second grace period to get to the light before he notices and starts chasing you. You can turn around to see he's doing the arm swing power walk but he's just getting closer while you aren't running.

If Legends Arceus was able to give us a 3-phase boss fight, then there can be a use for the run option in trainer battles.

I already can't run from Cynthia, you might as well give me a chance to run away from the "optional" boss.

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter three rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter arrived at the Avengers tower with a little pep in his step. His new neighbor was on his mind and he couldn’t get her off. He knew it was a long shot, after all you’d only had one conversation, but he felt like there was a connection between you. You were awkward, he was awkward. What more does a relationship need?

Tony was quick to notice the change in Peters mood. A dreamy smile crept across his face every now and then while Tony was trying to explain something about his nanotechnology.

“Alright Underoos, whats on your mind? A girl? Boy? That gorgeous Aunt of yours? Oh wait no, that’s what’s on my mind.” Tony smirked, making a blush paint Peters cheeks.

“Nothing sir. Sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Peter answered quickly. Tony scanned Peter up and down skeptically.

“So its a girl. Alright. Who is she?” Tony asked, motioning for Peter to sit down with him.

“This girl moved in across the hall from me about a week ago. I’d see her on the stairs sometimes, or in the lobby. She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark. I mean, really beautiful. And I know girls are a lot more than their appearance, trust me, but I can never look away. It’s like God made a perfect batch of cookie dough, and then made a perfect cookie cutter, and then hand made her just for me. There’s just, there’s something about her. I feel like I’ve always known her, and I don’t even know her yet. She knocked on my door this morning and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her through the peephole. I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know she lived across the hall.” Peter started to explain. A twinge of embarrassment struck him at the memory of what he said to you.

“Oh God. You said something stupid, didn’t you?” Tony inquired, noticing the look of embarrassment on Peters face as he recalled their conversation. Tony leaned on his hands like a child, this stuff exciting him more than anything.

“I insulted her dead father and called him smelly.” Peter admitted, and Tony laughed.

“But she found it funny and agreed with me.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Wow. Normally I’d say there’s no coming back from that, but she seems like a keeper. So, are you gonna throw on your Spidey suit and take her for a ride around the city? Works with all the ladies.” Tony wiggled eyebrows, but Peter shook his head.

“No. Spider-Man isn’t a party trick or some tactic to pick up girls. Plus, I want her to like me for me. That’s why I invited her over for dinner tonight.” Peter answered. Tony looked down at his hands, not wanting Peter to see how proud he was. He couldn’t let Peter get too cocky.

“That was a test and you passed.” To y quipped. “Alright, spider child, you have my blessing. But no funny business tonight. If I find out I’m gonna have to design nanotech baby clothes, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Peter blushed at the mere thought of what Tony was implying and spent the rest of his time at the tower going over missions to get you off his mind.

You arrived at Peters at 6:07. You were done getting ready at 5:45, and sat in the living room on your phone until you were slightly late. You didn’t want to be early, like some loser. Or even worse, on time. You had to be fashionably, but not rudely, late.

You knocked on Peters door at 6:07 and waited. The door swung open instantly, as if he’d be waiting right behind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He stated. “I’ll let you decide if I was waiting at the door for you or if I’m just really fast. “

He had successfully broken the ice, and you gave kudos to him for trying.

You, on the other hand, were drawing a blank. You had no idea what to say and you were a reporter for crying out loud. You didn’t get tripped up on my words, but something about Peter Parker and that damn collared shirt rendered you unable to formulate a thought. All you could do was stand there and smile at him. You felt like you were standing weirdly and all the sudden had no idea where to put your hands. Do you leave them at your sides? That felt too stiff and soldier-like. But where else would they go? You were pretty sure every brain cell had left your body at that point, leaving you defenseless.

“You look nice.” Peter blurted, interrupting the awkward silence that had settled between you. Even he seemed surprised by his statement. You looked down and shrugged. You looked as nice as a lazy person who didn’t fully unpack their clothes could look. You had on a casual grey dress that was made of some sort of t-shirt material, and your hair was in a loose bun with a few curls framing your face. Peter took in your appearance with what looked like approval. Then you noticed Peters gaze falling to your feet.

“Converse with a dress.” He noted. “Bold move.”

You felt your personality re-enter your body, finally, and nodded.

“Oh yeah. You know me. Quirky and cool and not like other girls.” You joked as you clicked your heels together. “You look nice too. Very…Freddie Benson.”

Freddie Benson? Who the hell makes an ICarly reference to compliment someone? This night was going downhill fast and you regretted ever knocking on his door.

“Dude. You’re tanking.” Venom said in your ear, you had to agree. This couldn’t be going worse.

But lo and behold, Peters beautiful laugh filled your ears once again.

“That’s what I was going for!” He cheered. “My friend Ned always teases me for wearing sweaters and button downs but he just doesn’t have the vision.”

“Come in.” He suddenly stepped aside and gestured inward. “Dinners almost ready.”

Peters apartment looked just like yours, but much more homey. You saw his baby pictures on the wall, coupled with pictures of him and his parents through the years. You noticed a framed picture of a different couple on the coffee table. They resembled Peter but you didn’t see them in any photos with him past the age of around 7. There was a candle next to the frame, as well as a ceramic cross. You quickly looked away, not wanting to overstep.

“You must be Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” You heard a woman’s voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a woman in high pants and a yellow tank top, recognized her from the pictures with Peter.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Parker.” You said politely and shook her hand.

“Please.” She shook your hand. “Call me May.”

“May.” You repeated with a smile.

You turned around and saw Peter pulling out a chair for you, so you sat down while May finished preparing dinner. You offered to help, being the polite ass bitch that you were, but May insisted that you were the guest. A plate of “meatloaf” was soon placed in front of you and Peter. The term “meatloaf” is used very loosely. It looked more like an old shriveled brain. Peter made eye contact with you and winked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He whispered. He glanced at May, who was busy pouring the drinks, before leaning in closer and whispering, “it’s way worse.”

You playfully kicked Peter under the table and he giggled, quickly masking the sound with a drink of water.

“So, Y/N, where do you go to school?” May started the conversation. You took a bite of meatloaf, nearly died, and swallowed before answering.

“I’m actually taking a gap year before I start my junior year at Berkeley.” You told her. “And I work part time as a reporter.”

“That’s a very good school.” She complimented. “And I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen your show on YouTube.”

“I haven’t.” Peter realized. “What’s it called?”

“The L/n Report.” You answered. “I started it my freshman year and it just kinda took off.”

“Oh. I’ve read some of yoru articles, but I haven’t seen the show.” Peter realized. “I can’t believe you do that. That’s really cool. You’re really cool.”

“Thank you.” You winked at him, not used to being praised for your work.

“Peter told me about your father.” May changed the subject. “I’m so sorry to hear that he passed. He left the apartment to you?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And it’s all right. We were estranged anyway.”

“It must be so different living alone in a city.” May sighed. “Did you dorm while at Berkeley?”

“No, I lived with my boyfriend.” You shook your head. Peter began choking on his water at the mention of a boyfriend and May shot him a look.

“Peter. Manners.” She said sternly.

“Boyfriend?” Was all he managed to say between coughs and sputters.

Oh great. Time for this conversation.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected. “I got him demoted to traffic duty for two weeks and he wasn’t too happy about it.”

“He broke up with you over that?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s gotta be the dumbest reason for a breakup I’ve ever heard.”

“May I ask how you got him demoted?” May wondered.

“Well, I’m an investigative reporter, and my ex, Andy, is a cop.” You began. “I looked at some classified files on his computer and used them against someone.”

“Carlton Drake, right?” She realized the story sounded familiar. “I read about that. Your exposé about him was everywhere.”

“Didn’t he die in his own rocket?” Peter asked you, fully invested in the story.

“Yea. I was there. Me and…my friend.” You caught yourself before almost mentioning Venom.

“Gosh I read that story forever ago.” May recalled. “It was all over the news here. I remember Peter ranting to me that this girl was straight out of high school and already taking down shady guys in San Francisco. You were obsessed with the article, remember Peter? I’m pretty sure you hung it up.”

Peter, you guessed it, turned bright red.

“I just thought you were cool. You know, taking down bad guys and all at such a young age. It really inspired me.” Peter explained. He suddenly looked panicked, like he said too much, and you wondered what it inspired him to do.

“Thank you Peter.” You smiled fondly. “How old are you anyway?”

“19. I’ll be 20 on August 10th.” He said proudly. “What about you?”

“He’s legal.” Venom whispered in your ear. You couldn’t even be mad at her, you were thinking the same thing.

“I’m 20.” You told him, and smile crept across his face.

“And this boyfriend, where is he now?” May asked. May wasn’t blind to what was happening between her nephew and this new neighbor and knew that’s what Peter was dying to ask.

“I would very much also like to know that.” Peter said, almost robotically. He leaned in closer and stared at you while he awaited the answer.

“He’s engaged, actually.” You said between sips of water, making Peter sigh in relief. “To a friend of mine. They’re getting married this summer.”

It was the first time you said those words out loud. You didn’t feel sad, like you thought you would. You didn’t really know how you felt. The smile that broke out on Peters face gave a clear indication on how he felt, though.

“That’s great. I mean, not great great. Great for him, I mean. It’s always good to move on. Wether it be with an old friend or a brand new one. Maybe it’s with someone you just met. You never know. Things just happen between the most random of people. Could be a stranger. Or, or, hear me out, it could be less of a stranger. Like a barista, or a mailman or a…a neighbor.” Peter stumbled over his words, the last part coming out very quietly. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out though. Between you and him, I mean. ”

“Thanks.” You shrugged. “It was tough at first but, I’m okay now. He wasn’t the one.”

“When you do find the one, you’ll know. I knew almost immediately that Ben was the one. I saw him and my heart said “that’s the one you’ve been looking for” and I believed it.” May sighed wistfully. You could see her eyes glistening behind her glasses and did something rather bold. You put your hand on top of hers and squeezed. She gave off this loving motherly vibe that you had only seen in movies but never felt for yourself. May gave you the warmest smile and squeezed your hand back.

“That’s lovely May. Although, I always thought when you met the one, your heart wouldn’t say that it’s been looking for that person. I always thought it would say ‘welcome home’, or something like that. You know? Like, you’ve always known them. I don’t know though. Maybe I’ve just seen The Princess Bride one too many times.” You shrugged.

“Ah. That’s a classic in this household.” May recalled. “Peter would refuse to go to bed without watching it.”

“Because it’s a cinematic masterpiece.” Peter sassed. “You’re trying to embarrass me by pointing out that even as a child I had impeccable taste? Oh please.”

You laughed at his remark, making May noticed the smile that broke out on Peters face when he succeeded in making their new neighbor laugh.

May looked at you for a while with a content smile on her face before saying, “Yeah. I suppose you do have good taste.”

[thebigpapilio]

Not So Lonely This Christmas: A Birthday Gift!

We posted this ereyesterday for @inkwell1013's birthday on AO3!

They also did this for us on our birthday a month and a day ago!

Go bookmark this, and wish her a happy belated birthday!

TW: Ryuji's dad, mentions of physical and sexual abuse, drunken characters

It was December 24th, and Sojiro was on his own again after he saw Futaba, Akira and their respective girlfriends off.

Don’t get him crossed up - he was so happy for them. Hikari and Sumire were very sweet and polite - perhaps too polite - but he knew his kids were more than mature and wise enough to bring them out of their shells.

It didn’t stop Sojiro from feeling lonely as he closed Leblanc. He’d moved on and accepted a life without Wakaba upon learning her death had been avenged (especially when he learned about Futaba seeing her again in her Palace or whatever it was), and he wanted companionship his age, be that romantic or otherwise.

Then a thought occurred to him. How long has it been since I last celebrated Christmas properly?

As it turned out, he couldn’t recall memories of a happy, peaceful, 100% stress-free Christmas in a long time - not since he’d taken in Futaba.

Welp. Futaba and Akira had gotten him to quit smoking, but surely getting a drink wouldn't be so bad?

So it was that Sojiro closed Leblanc (not like anyone was coming on Christmas, anyways), locked her up tight, and headed to the local alcohol store and bar with the intent of sharing his Christmas with some sake. Akira had Sojiro for a listening ear, but Satoru-san had been Sojiro’s ‘bartender figure’ not long after he and Futaba moved to Yongen-Jaya. The guy was more than sympathetic to his whole story - not only did Sojiro get a discount while nobody else was around but he was also granted access to the good stuff (though Sojiro was inclined to believe that was more for his patronage rather than Satoru-san’s kindness). Futaba called it the secret menu before being sworn to secrecy about it and prohibited from touching alcohol until she turned 20.

Unfortunately for Sojiro, he instantly noticed another patron at Kyoukou as he stepped through the door. Damn, no discount today.

He wiped his disappointment away, however, when Sojiro noticed a lonely, despondent look on the woman’s face. 

In his mind, a voice that sounded infuriatingly like a younger, more arrogant Sojiro whispered Well? You wanted company, didn’t you?  

Sojiro nodded to nobody in particular before sitting down two seats away from the woman - close enough to make conversation, but far enough away to help her feel like he wasn’t going to invade her personal space. Before he could utter a single syllable, however, the woman side-eyed him, her face rough and tired. “Shitty day for you too?”

Sojiro couldn’t help the confused chuckle that escaped him. “What makes you think that?”

“In my experience, boys tend to sit right next to ladies when they’re feelin’ confident or lookin’ to screw some poor chick. You, though… you’re givin' me space. So either you’re not like most boys, or there’s something else that’s got you drinking in here alone on Christmas with an old bitch like me.”

For a few moments after she finished, Sojiro sat in silence, not really sure how to respond to that.

The lady just chuckled, before unceremoniously thumping her head down onto the bar face-first and shedding a few tears. Sojiro didn’t realize it until a few seconds in because she wasn’t crying.

The gentlemanly instincts he’d developed over the past decade or two kicked in, and he got up to approach her, shucking off his coat. “You’ve been drinking already, haven’t you?” Sojiro remarked.

“Hardly drank anything…” the woman grumbled as she sat up and wiped her tears away. “Jus’ tipsy. I’m lightweight, an’ I gotta save what money I can. Not getting home otherwise.”

“No friends either?”

She scoffed. “Not since my ex-husband…” She proceeded to facepalm.

Sojiro got the feeling it was something she didn’t enjoy thinking about. That’s why he winced at himself when the words, “Sounds like a story. You wanna talk about it?” escaped his mouth before he could stop himself.

No, this could be a good thing. He’d promised Futaba and Akira he’d show a bit more ethos, and that’s what he intended to do.

“Goddamnit, kill my lightweight ass now…” the lady groaned. “Here’s your test: if you’ve heard the name Hagihara Katsumi, I’m gonna request you to leave me the hell alone right now.”

“Never heard of him,” Sojiro swore. Even then, she scrutinized his face and body language, trying to catch any indicator he was lying. “If he’s the type of jackass who’s got you so fearful, I wouldn’t associate with him if I knew. And if I did know him, you bet your ass I’d cut contact with him.” Sojiro took a deep breath to cool himself down before unintentionally scaring this woman. “You can tell me as much or as little as you’d like. But you ought to have someone who’ll listen.”

“... if that bastard gets on my case for me talking about him so shittily, I will find you,” she swore, before flinching. “Shit, where are my manners?”

Having forgotten to introduce himself just the same, Sojiro flinched, but he recovered quickly and chuckled. “Where are ours, I think you mean? Sakura Sojiro.”

The woman squinted at him. “Why’s that name sound familiar…?” 

Alarm bells from his government days rang in Sojiro’s head. Hopefully this lady was just one of those people who had helped get him out of jail and not an old or current government employee.

“Fudge, I can’t remember much… other ‘n that you’re a good man.” Sojiro quietly exhaled. “Name’s Sakamoto Momiji… ‘n I think I can trust you with my shit. You sure you wanna listen?”

Strangely, something about her name sounded familiar to Sojiro as he nodded. However, he couldn’t place it before she launched into her tale. “Went to college for women’s studies back in… well, our day, I guess. Wanted to teach the next generation an’ all, help fix this shitty society where women are treated like a second damn class. Still keep up where I can, like on the misogyny of that Mori bastard from the Japanese Olympic Committee Council, but it’s hard when I’m working so much…”

“Work, huh?”

“Sakura-”

“Sojiro’s fine.”

“Mmph. Too drunk for formalities right now, anyways. ’m getting to that point, Soj.”

“Soj? That a nickname?”

“You want a different one?”

“N-no, Soj is fine.”

Momiji snickered. “I can tell you’re flustered, y’know. ‘n any cas, it was durin’ my university years when I met Katsumi. I was enamored with him because he was tenacious, because he was ambitious, because he didn’t give up on what he wanted. Used to struggle with dreamin’ big, with stickin’ to my guns, so I came to him for counsel on that. Didn’t quite go that way, though - things just happened from there.” She sighed, clearly forlorn as she reminisced. “We fell in love, and, even if I didn’t mean to, I gave up all sorts of crap for him - my college education, my career, ‘n a crapton ‘a friendships. Bastard wanted me to take care of the house ‘n all that, but promised he wouldn’t make me. I loved him unlike anything I’d ever felt, and… I gave in. By the time we were married, all of my friends were his friends ‘n their families. It was one of those couples that pointed out the way Katsumi was changing, an’ they sided with me when shit went down. I wish I could spend more time with Miku an’ Tatsu, but I feel like I owe ‘em for what help they’ve already given me.”

“They’re not judging you for whatever happened with this guy, are they?”

Momiji seemed surprised to see Sojiro still there when she looked up. “Well, no,” she admitted, “but I’m scared to ask for help ‘cuz I’m worried they’ll make me owe them… it’s not rational, but I can’t get it out of my head.”

“It’s understandable…” Sojiro couldn’t help but think about Futaba’s uncle and his greed before Futaba and Akira had changed his heart. “But it’s worth a shot, right? Sounds like you’re struggling with the bills already…”

“Yeah… after Katsumi changed, I was on my own to make ends meet. I don’t know why it happened. Maybe it was that promotion at his job, maybe it was some buddy or coworker he met, maybe he was always that dickhead an’ I never noticed. But he got pissy more often, got drunk more often… but most of all, he grew careless ‘n heartless. That careless shit’s how… how I ended up pregnant.”

“You’re… you’re pregnant?!”

Momiji burst into laughter. “Pregnant? Hah! I wouldn’t look in this bar’s direction if I had another kid on the way. My boy’s in college some’ere in the effin’ UK. He was gonna be with me this Christmas, but schedule shit happened. At least he should make it just in time for our own little ōmisoka tradition.” She squinted at him. “You’re in the same boat, ain’t you, Sojiro? You got someone you want to spend time with?”

She didn’t know the half of it. “Finish your story and I’ll tell you mine?” he bartered. “Sounds like you haven’t had anyone to really talk to about this.”

Momiji sighed. “Y’ain’t wrong… I effin’ hate dredgin’ up these memories, but I may as well at this point. Tell me, Soj - you know what the name Katsumi’s supposed t’mean?” Sojiro shook his head. “Self-controlled … what a buncha bullshit. If that ever described that son of a bitch, it doesn’t do it for shit anymore.”

“Came home one day from a late grocery trip to find him drunk off his ass ‘n whaling on my son,” she continued. In spite of her inebriation, her voice was fraught with rage as she recalled, “M’little boy was just 7 at the time, ‘n his father was pounding him like no expert in mochitsuki ever could… physically, not sexually. I know at least two victims of sexual harassment ‘n abuse, an’ I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even him.”

Sojiro’s heart bled and burned for this woman and her son. For anyone’s father to treat him like that at just seven years old… nobody deserved that. Plus, that was a horrible thing to come home to.

“Lemme tell you, I had the strength of an effin’ bear when I kicked him out by the… the back of his neck. Ugggggh... what's the word?”

“The scruff?” Sojiro supplied.

“That’s the bitch!” Momiji exclaimed. “I’ve been doin’ my best to be there for my kid through all of our ups and downs… an’ over a decade ‘n a half later, I find myself in this bar, pouring my guts out to a dude who’s been awful nice to me.” She grinned a little. “I’m so pathetic…”

“Doesn’t sound like that at all.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

“You’re doing the best you can for that boy of yours, aren’t you?” Slowly, she nodded. “It may not be enough sometimes, but it’s better than a lot of parents do with their kids. It sucks when you feel incompetent or powerless as a part, and I know what that feeling is like, trust-”

The sound of arguing cut him off. The two looked to the bar, where a new, bellicose and clearly hammered patron was yelling at Satoru-san. Sojiro moved to listen in, but a sharply-drawn, panicked breath from Momiji stopped him.

Things clicked almost right away. “That’s not your ex-husband… is it…?” 

She nodded, fear and anxiety written all across her face. Sojiro’s face contorted into a scowl. “Stay out of sight. I’ll make him leave.”

Momiji gasped near-inaudibly, eyes shooting back to him for a brief moment, but Sojiro was steadfast. “You want him to go away, right?” She nodded again, but her body was a bit more relaxed. “Then I’ve got you.”

As he approached the incensed Hagihara and patient yet slowly-growing-frustrated Satoru-san, Sojiro walked to the left side of the belligerent before approaching to tap him on the back of his shoulder.

Not even bothering to look in Sojiro’s direction, Hagihara loudly snapped, “If this motherfucker doesn’t have a drink for me, something’s gonna fuckin’ happen, and nobody’s gonna fuckin’ like it!”

“If you’re looking to pick a fight, let’s not do it here.” Sojiro declared coolly, “I’m confident I could take you down any day of the week, but I’m not eager to make a mess of this establishment.”

“You’re… you’re real fuckin’ cocky, old-timer!” Hagihara slurred. “F-fine! I’ll see you outside!”

As Hagihara stumbled outside, Sojiro turned to Satoru-san. “I appreciate you getting him off my case, Sojiro,” the older man said, “but are you sure you can deal with him without risking arrest yourself?”

Sojiro just smirked. “Mind if I borrow the keys?”

Catching onto what he was planning, Satoru-san handed him a key. When he poked his head outside, he saw Hagihara waiting, fists raised in a stumbly. “Ready to go, ya sen… se… old bastard?”

On the other side of the street, he also saw a police officer walking home with a bag of groceries in hand. Perfect.

Sending a silent apology to the officer, Sojiro just smirked. “I hope you are.” 

And with that, he slammed the door shut, inserted the key, and locked Kyoukou up for the night.

It took Momiji's inebriated ex-husband about two seconds longer to register Sojiro’s trick than it might have taken him if he were sober. “W-what?! HEY!”

Pointedly ignoring the loud banging on the door and the indignant yelling, Sojiro instantly went to Momiji, who was being comforted by Satoru-san. 

To say Momiji was crying was an understatement. She looked inconsolable, taking big, tremulous breaths in between her loud sobs.

“Momiji…” Sojiro whispered, unnerved somewhat at the sight of this tough woman, who’d endured so much shit already, breaking down in front of him. Looking at Satoru-san, he asked, “Panic attack?”

“Most likely…” Satoru-san swore under his breath. “This is beyond my expertise… should I call an ambulance or something?”

Sojiro placed the keys back in Satoru-san’s hands, his lopsided smile small but confident. “Leave this to me.”

It was a sad but fortunate fact that Sojiro was experienced with dealing with ladies’ panic attacks. He managed to walk her through her panic attack and help her return to full consciousness. In the middle of such comforting, the screaming from outside had slowly drifted away, which helped a lot.

It was almost as if Hagihara was being dragged away from the bar against his will.

Once Momiji was feeling much calmer, Sojiro pointed out her ex had left them alone. The second she really comprehended he’d scared her off, tears welled up in her eyes again, and she latched onto Sojiro in a bear hug. “Thank you, Sojiro… thank you so much…”

So Sojiro let her cry another round of tears, letting her release the rest of her emotions for good.

When she finally separated from him, he said, “There is something I would like to request of you. It’ll probably seem like I have bad intentions at first, so you have the full right to refuse, but…”

“I’m listenin’.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t trust boys pretendin’ to be men no more. That ain’t changed.” She smiled gratefully. “You ain’t just a boy, Soj.” Softening a little, she said, “Plus, I owe you one-” 

“You don’t owe me crap, Momiji. I’ll take your kindness, but not as a thank-you. Besides, I think you would do the same if you saw some jackass harassing my kids.” Momiji’s eyes shot up at the admission that she wasn’t the only parent, but Sojiro wasn’t done. Plus, all his experience with an easily-tuckered-out Futaba made him an expert in telling when someone was sleepy. “We’ll talk about that when you’re sober. I know you’re sleepy, so let me get this in before you go to sleep.”

Momiji nodded, doing her best to stay awake. “It would give me peace of mind if you would trust me with your phone number. Something tells me that boy won’t let you or me get away with this.” He realized the connotations of his request. “N-not like that! All I want is the assurance that you got home safe tomorrow, and then you can delete or block me and never talk to me again if it helps to ease that heart of yours.”

Momiji thought about it for a small while. “One condition,” she eventually decided. “You willin’ to pay fer my ride home? If you can’t afford it, I’d get that - hell, I probably ruined what woulda been a nice night’a drinkin’ for y-”

“You didn’t ruin anyone’s night. That ass you once loved did. And if you want, I’ll drive you myself.”

The two shook hands before Sojiro and Momiji swapped digits. From there, Satoru-san saw them off.

Sojiro helped a still-tipsy Momiji to his car, which he’d parked in this district of Yongen-Jaya. After receiving the address from her, the two had a silent drive to the apartment.

On the way, Momiji had the thought to lean on Sojiro.

No, what little part of her rational side she had right now reasoned, he’s driving right now. Plus, he might not be comfortable about that. What if he hurts you like Katsumi did?

She squirmed a little in her seat, but her eyes fell on Sojiro.

When she was in love with Katsumi, seeing his face had filled her heart with a thrill, with excitement. Sojiro’s face, on the other hand, was pure kindness. It made her feel respected. It made her feel secure. It made her feel…

… safe.

As Sojiro parked the car in front of her house, she decided she’d definitely be revisiting this when she was sober.

Having walked her into the house and to her bedroom, Sojiro helped her clamber onto the couch. “I hope you sleep peacefully, Momiji…”

Having wished her well and ensured her safety, he turned around to leave, only for a hand to grab his.

“Stay…”

Sojiro felt like he might regret this in the morning, but if it made this woman feel more comfortable, he didn’t have the heart to refuse her. So he fell asleep with Momiji feeling like he’d made a genuine strong bond with someone his age again.

As they dozed off at each other’s side, they neglected to hear the door opening.

“You sure she won’t, like, have a heart attack or something? I’m so glad we got here before Christmas, but…”

“Mon trésor, I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’m more worried about what she’ll think of m-”

Two young adults stopped and stood in shocked silence. Hardly a few seconds later, a pair of phone cameras snapped a picture of the elder duo and sent it to a newly-made groupchat.

Ryuji Sakamoto changed their name to Sansta Claus.

Sansta Claus changed the names of Kurusu Akira, Okumura Haru & Sakura Futaba.

Noel Noire: [BossMama.jpg]

Sansta Claus: GUYS HOLY SHIT

Gonna Find Out: wtf

Hohohoker: HAHAHAHAHAHA

Gonna Find Out: that’s ur dad too (|||❛︵❛)

Hohohoker: … shit.

______________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading, et valēte,

The BigPapilio

[alderaani]

Family

Summary: Rex wakes up after leaving Saleucami to find Cody at his bedside, and has to grapple with meeting Cut Lawquane and what it means to be a clone. Gen fic, 2.4k of brother feels.

Part of my series 100 clone centric prompts, or readable on AO3 here.

A/N: Look nothing breaks my heart more than when Cut questions Rex about duty and he is SO quick to start talking about protecting his hypothetical children. I’ve been staring at this fic for three days and getting fed up of writing it, u know when you’ve just been staring at words so long they stop being words? So here it is, and i hope you like it!

The medbay lights were low when Rex woke. He knew where he was even before he opened his eyes, lulled by the ever-present rumble of the engines and the sharp smell of antiseptic. And sure enough, the Resolute took gentle shape around him, turning from smear to ship once he’d blinked the sleep away. His eyes always felt dry and sensitive after sedatives, painfully tight around the edges. For a moment he lay perfectly still, letting the galaxy trickle back in, sense by sense.

The bleep of a monitor, the stiff, starched edges of the sheet tucked up round his body. A warm, solid weight wrapped around his hand, the rumbling sound of someone snoring, the unnatural dryness of his mouth and the lingering taste of bacta on his tongue.

He looked down, then smothered a laugh. Cody was crumpled like discarded flimsi in a chair next to his bed, hunched so that his head and upper shoulders were wedged close to Rex’s thigh over the blankets. His nose was scrunched with sleep, the force of his soft snores dislodging the curls on his forehead with each puff of air. He still smelt like blaster residue and dust, and his cheek had left dark smudges on the sheet. There was a discarded datapad next to his head, glowing with soft blue light as it announced the arrival of several new messages. His hand was the heavy weight that Rex could feel, wound tight around his own. Cody had split his knuckles again, the skin around the thin cuts raised and puffy and glistening with freshly applied bacta.

Rex wasn’t sure when he’d gotten here, but it couldn’t have been too long, or someone would have bullied his brother into at least hitting the freshers.

He couldn’t remember making it to the rendezvous, the memories buried somewhere under the jarring bolts of pain from his chest and the way his arm stung like a nest of hornets as the nerves healed. Telling General Kenobi that he’d been on the mend hadn’t been a lie, per se, but even Rex could admit that he’d perhaps been stretching things. It was at least reassuring to know that he’d not fallen off his eopie and collapsed in some unremarkable patch of Saleucami’s farmland.

Rex stared around the familiar bay, struggling with the rush of relief and discomfiture that spread through his body. Nothing was out of place here; he could look around and know exactly what to expect, from the barracks to the bridge. He wanted to let it settle him the way it usually did, to let relief seep into his bones at another mission fought and – well, not won, but survived. This time it wouldn’t quite come.

It wasn’t because he’d been injured. That had happened more times than he had fingers. Maybe it was because The Resolute was the closest thing to a home that he had…and for the first time in his short life, he couldn’t help but find it a little lacking. He’d come back. That much was true, and he was glad of it. But there was some part of him that was still stranded on that farm on Saleucami, rooted there in the sound of children’s laughter and the humming of insects in the fields. He could still feel the pale sun beating down on his face, taste the sharp wind on his tongue, and was surprised to find it bound up in a small ache in his chest.

The blaster bolt would scar. So would this feeling. But neither would ever fully go away.

When Rex had told Cut that he’d never really thought about the names they gave each other, the individuality it bestowed upon each clone, he’d been telling the truth. It had simply never been a priority beyond a fleeting thought. There were always more important things to think about; they all knew that each brother was different, beyond name, station, hair colour or designation. To clones, those distinctions they chose for themselves were sacred. And that had always been enough, until now. The sight of one of their own framed in a farm-house door, children round his feet and a whole world under them…the possibility of it sat irreversibly inside him, a Pandora’s Box he’d never known could be opened.

Maybe he’d never thought about it before – but on some level now he always would.

That terrified him.

“Rex’ika?”

The fingers around his palm flexed, dragging him back to the present.

He glanced down to see Cody’s eyes fixed on his face, puffy but alert, his cheek creased where the sheets had pressed into them. His ori’vod jerked frantically into motion, pushing upright with a groan. Rex didn’t even have time to speak before Cody’s fist was colliding lightly with his shoulder.

“The kriff d’you let yourself get shot for?”

“Good to see you too, vod,” Rex grumbled, rotating his shoulder for show then actively wincing when the motion sent streaks of pain skittering from the crater in his chest.

He knew that Cody had seen it, because instantly his hand pushed him back firmly into the pillows, like if he didn’t hold him still Rex was going to try and escape somewhere.

“I’m alright,” he said after a moment, patting Cody’s hand a couple of times before his brother deemed fit to let go of him.

“Oh yeah? Because five hours ago you said that and then fell flat on your face.”

Rex grimaced. He couldn’t refute the claim because he didn’t know any better, and sadly from the bits of the journey he could recall, collapsing at the end of it was a distinct possibility. There was a familiar pinch between Cody’s eyebrows as he hovered, ready to manhandle Rex again if he felt it necessary. It was an expression that Rex knew intimately, because it only appeared when he’d worried him.

He’d been a scrappy cadet; never allowed anonymity because of his hair, defiance and recklessness had been a kind of defence mechanism. If he was going to be singled out, he could at least control the way it happened. The fourth time he’d been made to run so many laps that he vomited, he’d looked up, panting, to see Cody’s pinched face staring back. The commanding batches were only meant to supervise the punishments of the younger levels, but Cody had reached out a hand anyway and hauled Rex to his feet. He’d been the one to teach him that there were better ways to make himself untouchable.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Rex said, swiping his tongue over his dry bottom lip. “Tastes like Kix gave me the good stuff.”

Cody rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching into something fond. “He’s gonna kick your shebs, and I’m gonna let him. You should’ve seen his face when the General said you were on your way. The hells were you thinking, di’kut? We could’ve sent an escort.”

Rex felt his answering grin slide off his face at the thought, uncertainty settling back into his belly like lead. An escort would have had to come to the farm, and in turn would have seen the deserter. Some not insignificant part of him felt almost affronted at what Cut had done, even as he didn’t regret keeping his secret. It ground against what they’d been taught about themselves, against what had been built into their DNA. It didn’t matter whether they liked war the same way it didn’t matter whether they liked the colour of their eyes. It was what it was.

But Rex could comprehend turning his back on that, even if he didn’t understand. What was harder to fathom, with Cody’s hand anchoring his own, palm sweaty with relief that his ori’vod wouldn’t voice, was being alone. The idea of saying ‘family’ and not meaning a face just like his own. The thought of being cut off from the vode, from the invisible threads of brotherhood that transcended them all…it was an alien thing, sharp and unpleasant.

“It was for the best,” he said to Cody, a beat too slowly. “The farmer who put me up…he wasn’t the friendliest sort.”

Cody’s gaze sharpened. “Anti-clone?”

Rex very nearly laughed. “No, just the over-cautious type. He didn’t want the war on his doorstep.”

Cody paused for one very long moment, surveying Rex with eyes that always unearthed everything he wanted to hide. He would have been more worried, had he not been quite confident that Cut Lawquane was unpredictable.

“Then why are there hand-print bruises on your neck, Rex?”

Reflexively, Rex reached for his throat, running his fingers gingerly over the puffy skin. He hadn’t realised that they were there, but immediately the sensation of dangling by his throat came back to him.

“I got throttled by a commando droid, that’s why. Turns out the farmer didn’t get a whole lotta say about some landin’ in his field. We handled it.”

Cody swore, his hand tightening around Rex’s again. “Just couldn’t miss out on the action, could you vod’ika? Gettin’ shot wasn’t enough?”

Rex grinned, shrugging a little. “How else am I gonna give you grey hairs? Me ‘n Wolffe have still got that bet going about which marshal commander it’ll be first, you or Fox. And I’ve gotta make up for the whole Senate somehow.”

“Unbelievable,” Cody growled, shoving Rex’s hand away and running a hand over his head. “Throwing the odds is illegal, Chakaar. What did he wager? Corellian whiskey? Koon always sneaks him the best shit.”

Rex snorted, wrinkling his nose. “Hardly. As if I’d risk my shebs for a drink, Kote, it’s for the glory.”

Cody leaned back in his chair, face still a picture of outrage. Rex knew that in any other scenario he’d have already been in a headlock, and grinned smugly at the fact he was currently untouchable.

“Yeah, well, next time you don’t hafta try so hard,” Cody muttered. “Or you’ll bypass grey hairs and push me straight to heart attack.”

“That still counts as a win.”

Rex knew he fully deserved the punch that Cody landed on his leg, covering his mouth to muffle the laugh that wanted to burst out of him. The rest of the bay was surprisingly quiet, the lighting low and soft. The vast majority of the beds were empty, the few other occupants sound in either natural or induced sleep. Cody probably should have gone to alert the on-duty medic that he’d woken up, but instead the silence lapsed on between them, Cody’s eyes crinkling soft at the corners again in that unguarded way that Rex missed from their youth.

After a moment Cody’s pad chirped from between the disturbed sheets, a gratingly cheerful sound that never heralded anything good. Rex watched his brother sigh and pick up the offending item, scrolling and clicking through notices as the tension crept back into his face. Cody had always been like that – ruthlessly efficient, wickedly shrewd, a ship against which the rest of them could weather all storms. Any clone who’d ever met him knew what class he was destined to go into, and when he’d been promoted, the only person who’d been surprised was Cody himself.

There was a pride in that, Rex reflected; to excel so thoroughly at the purpose for which you’d been made. But there was no choice in it either, and it was an odd thing, to look at Cody for the first time and find it a little jarring that he couldn’t picture him as anything else.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Cody had looked up from his datapad with one eyebrow raised. Then he sighed again, jabbing at the screen grumpily. “I swear Bly waits until it’s my night cycle to send me forms on purpose.”

Rex watched him type for a few more seconds, then looked down at his hands.

“Have you ever thought about the end of the war?”

There was a long pause, hanging stunned in the air between them. Rex twisted his fingers together then looked up, feeling oddly vulnerable. Cody’s brow was lifted in a rare moment of unguarded surprise, before his eyes narrowed, searching Rex’s face.

“…no, I suppose I haven’t,” he said eventually. “General Kenobi theorises that it’ll hinge on –“

“No, I meant – have you ever thought about what we’ll do after.” Rex said softly.

Cody blinked a few times then leant back in his chair.

“After?” The word curled uncertainly off his tongue, an awkward shape in his mouth. “Don’t you think we’ve gotta win the damn thing first, Rex’ika?”

Rex shrugged, feeling his shoulders creep up round his ears the way they always did when he was nervous. The words almost stuck in his throat, scraping raw as he pushed them out, unformed and fledgeling.

“Yeah, of course. But…all the same. For some of us there will be an after. Commander Tano talks about it sometimes – getting back to all the things she did before.”

That did make Cody smile, a little fleeting thing. “General Kenobi does too. He had to put all his plants in the Temple gardens, says he misses them.”

“Have you ever thought about going with them?”

Cody’s eyebrows jumped again, a rare, blank look on his face that made Rex feel better and worse all at the same time. “Can’t think why the Jedi would need clones around in their Temple. What’s this really about, Rex?”

Rex let out a breath, a long gusting sigh that peeled out of his ribcage, and fixed his eyes back on the ceiling. “Staying with that farmer…eating at his table, sharing his food. Talking to his kids…it just made me wonder, you know? What that might be like.”

Cody snorted, but his eyes were impossibly warm as he scrubbed a knuckle over Rex’s short blond hair. “You? A farmer? Didn’t you kill the plant Kenobi got Skywalker for his lifeday?”

Rex batted him away. “That thing was already dead when he brought it to me. And to be honest, the eopie they lent me stank. But…his kids were cute. Real big eyes, you know?”

The corner of Cody’s mouth had ticked up again as he settled himself back down with his datapad. “Tano and Skywalker not kids enough for you?”

He ducked the fist Rex shoved his way, chuckling, and they settled back into a docile quiet, Cody confused, and Rex unsure how else to put his feelings into words. How it wasn’t just the farmer, or the kids, or the land. Just the new, frightening possibility that one day they might be his to take. Rex felt the drowsiness creep back in on him, cresting and falling in a wave. He didn’t fight it, twisting down into the sheets and letting the soft tapping of Cody’s fingers on glass lull him on. When he reached the precipice of sleep, hovering somewhere above a dream, he felt his brother’s hand squeeze his one more time, then heard him speak.

“I guess I never have thought about it, vod. But you’re right. Maybe it does sound nice.”

taglist // @nelba @iscream4clones @bad-batch-of-fics @leias-left-hair-bun @majorshiraharu @simping-for-fives // join here

[backdraft-bimbo]

couldn't say just how I love you

Sam just wants to feel the warmth of another person right now, and that person just happens to be Bucky.

Yeah, that must be why, he settles; convenience.

Words: 1699

Chapters: 1/1

ao3 link

Sam squints across the shrimping boat as Bucky fiddles with his forearm. He’s barely made an inch of progress with it, yet the guy hasn’t asked for any help so far. It’s kind of ridiculous since Sam–the Falcon for crying out loud–is over here with two capable hands, ten beautiful fingers, and a proficient enough background in engineering to fix Bucky’s shit for him.

Broody Mcgee is either a whole ‘nother level of stubborn when it comes to accepting help, or he’s just a shy person, which Sam finds to be a hilarious deduction. Who the hell’s ever heard of a shy ex-assassin? Plus, this is the same guy who went chuteless out of a plane, flew face first into the trees, and had the wind knocked out of him–with all of it caught on camera. But for some reason, Bucky never asked Sam to delete the footage (before Redwing bit the dust), so he really doubts it’s a pride thing.

Maybe Bucky just needs a push.

“Do you even know what you’re doing over there, Buck? ‘Cause it doesn’t look to me–“

“No, I got it–“

“–like you know what you’re doing. You want some help?” Sam offers, raising his hands placatingly. “No shame. I worked on Redwing for years, so I’ve got my hands around tech before.”

Bucky grips his bradawl tighter, digging rather aggressively into his bionic arm. “No, seriously . I’m fine.” Sam cringes; he’s definitely doing more damage using one hand for repairs. The wires are all crooked in the part where the Flag-Smasher kicked it in–much more internal damage than Sam expected coming out of that skirmish.

“You are a stubborn man–and I don’t just mean that metal arm you've been poking at the last hour. I think the arm is the most agreeable part of you. It doesn’t complain any time I try to help it.”

Bucky groans, slamming his bradawl back on the boat table. “If I say ‘okay’ will you shut up already?”

“Definitely not,” Sam grins. “But your annoyance is noted.”

“Have you ever dealt with vibranium? ‘Cause if not–”

Sam stops him. “You had a titanium arm before, right? The one with the commie star on the shoulder?”

Bucky grumbles out an affirmation.

“Perfect,” Sam says, “how different can they be?”

A look of mild alarm crosses Bucky’s face. It’s kind of hilarious. “Well–”

“Forget I asked,” Sam says cordially, fully prepared to keep messing with Bucky. The guy is just so easy sometimes. He jogs over from the boat’s rusty bow pulpit and slaps his hands together. “C’mon, man, what’s up with your weird ‘I’d rather die than let Sam help me’ attitude?”

Bucky fleetingly glances at Sam, then back at his mangled arm, and furrows his eyebrows in that way he does whenever he’s deliberating whether or not to share something. Sam is unfortunately so used to Bucky shutting down that it comes as a surprise to him when the guy actually speaks up.

“It’s just frustrating, okay?” he says, voice rough and gravelly. “I know it’s stupid, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna be used to only having one arm.”

Sam sobers up a bit. So that’s why.

“I just...wanna be able to fix this shit up to prove to myself that, y’know...that I can do it.”

A few seagulls squawk overhead as Bucky’s words sink in. Sam doesn’t know why he’s never considered the possibility that Bucky might not totally be over losing his arm. Hell, Sam feels kind of foolish for missing it; he used to deal with soldiers coming back from war zones missing a limb or two.

“Nah, man,” Sam says after a thoughtful pause. “That’s not stupid at all.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that, and Sam doesn’t expect him to. The guy silently shifts his bionic arm so that Sam can sit down and work on it, side-eyeing him like he’s weighing whether or not he should have said anything. I guess decades of being a Prisoner of War and brainwashed HYDRA assassin will do that to you, Sam meditates.

He and Bucky have had their share of falling outs. Hell, just a few days ago they were promising to take separate long vacations apart. They both said shitty things. So what? That doesn’t mean Sam can’t feel for the guy. He catches himself occasionally ruminating all that Bucky has been through and finds that he can’t go too long without needing a break. But that’s Bucky’s life; ain’t exactly like he can just take a pause from it. It sort of breaks Sam’s heart in a way he can’t explain; all those years Bucky can’t get back...

“Sam?”

Sam blinks, not realizing he’d been staring. The shadow of a smile has crossed Bucky’s face.

“Looks like I’m not the only one with the staring problem.”

Sam shakes his head, blinking some more. Geez. What were they doing again?

Bucky looks at him half-expectantly, half-amusedly. He gestures loosely at his arm. “Go crazy, man.”

“Right. Right, the arm.” Sam grapples with the tools splayed out on the splintery table, trying to recall what he needs with an odd sense of urgency. Why the hell is he forgetting everything? Last time he checked, empathy isn’t supposed to instill this kind of reaction.

“Take your time,” Bucky says... nicely? And all right, that’s another Bucky-related thing Sam has to set aside for later. It’s an extraordinarily long list, but Sam’s got shit to do right now. He exhales deeply and focuses all of his attention on the job before him.

It’s easy to get into a rhythm. The slight breeze and white noise waves blend together as Sam zones in on Bucky’s arm, the two settling into a comfortable silence. The atmosphere is sublime for fixing broken things–the Wilson family shrimping boat always seemed to do that. Sam wonders if Bucky feels it too; maybe it’s just his own nostalgia. Whenever Sam thinks of his parents on deck, laughing and telling anecdotes to their relatives...it makes Sam feel like an invincible kid again. He can do anything as long as he can tap into those memories.

When the wires start looking right, Sam can’t tell how long it’s been since they started. The freaking sea, man. Gotta be more careful next time. The sights and sounds of the shore are too hypnotic; before you know it, the seagulls have left and the sun is already setting on the horizon. Judging by the dimmer light, it’s probably early evening now.

Sam looks up at Bucky for the first time in what feels like ages. The guy’s resting his chin on his right hand, eyes closed as the invisible fingers of the breeze comb through his dark hair. And wow, he looks peaceful –a word Sam seldom uses when it comes to Bucky Barnes. The profile view is making him notice things, which is probably why Sam is opening his mouth before better judgement can grab him by the collar.

He stops fiddling with Bucky’s arm and leans forward.

“Dude, you got loooong eyelashes.”

Bucky shifts at that, eyebrows furrowing back into their natural state, and the idyllic moment is broken. All right, so Sam can admit that was a random, out-of-left-field observation probably suited for a different time. But give him a break, he’s been looking at wires for like three hours straight. Sam is nevertheless grateful Bucky doesn’t comment on his weirdness. The guy just glances down at his new and improved arm and gives Sam a stoic nod of approval.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Bucky says. “So, uh, thanks.”

“Still gotta test it,” Sam replies, strangely off-put by Bucky’s honesty. But, to be fair, there’s a lot of crazy new stuff happening today. For example, Sam must be getting old, because the moment he stands up from his chair, hoping to get some blood moving, a rush of lightheadedness washes over him, and he’s forced to lean his hips against the table for a second.

He shakes his head, laughing at himself. “Shit.”

“You okay?” Bucky asks skeptically, staring up at Sam with his big blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just test-run this thing, Cyborg Man. I need a nap.”

Sarah must’ve put something in the carrot souffle, because Sam is seriously on a roll with odd behavior today. It might be because it’s Saturday and none of his family are watching, or because he and Bucky aren’t out on a mission for once, but there’s absolutely no justification Sam can think of other than complete self-indulgence for why he wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. With his left hand, Sam lifts up the vibranium arm, bends it back and forth, nods to himself, and says, “Looks good.”

For a second, Bucky is craning his neck back, gaping at Sam like he’s grown a second head. As quickly as that expression comes, though, it’s gone a second later, and Bucky returns to his familiar guise of reservation, shifting his gaze to Sam’s handiwork, a faint tint of traitorous red rising to his cheeks. Sam leans forward farther, sighing heavily into Bucky’s shoulder, like they’re already at this stage of intimacy. But Sam lets the fact that this isn’t as per usual blissfully fly over his head, because he’s tired and sore and can’t give a shit anymore.

Sam just wants to feel the warmth of another person right now, and that person just happens to be Bucky.

Yeah, that must be why , he settles; convenience.

Bucky just sits there silently and lets Sam lean against him, the exhaustion drooping off his shoulders and into the creaky old wood of the Wilson family boat. He shifts for a second, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Eventually, Sam is moving up and away, sliding his hands off Bucky’s body, a strange fluttery feeling enveloping him. He tries not to think about how much he didn’t want that to end, or how badly he misses the touch when it’s gone, but–

For another time, Sam promises himself.

Neither of them say a word as they walk back to Sarah’s.

[moldisgoodforyou]

love you for a long time

gif from @anakin-skywalker​

warnings: graphic depictions of abuse, physical and verbal, cursing

wordcount: 3.2k

________

In the afternoon of Christmas day at Charlie’s house, the excitement had calmed down and everyone was recovering from the aftermath of the activities that morning.

“You don’t mind if I head out for a bit, right?” JJ asked, scuffing the floor with his boot as he spoke. “No, of course not. Go hang with the pogues, I’ll see you later.” Charlie nudged his shoulder. He paused before leaving. “I’ll be back, promise.” She furrowed her brow slightly. “I know, J. Go have fun.” He turned his lips up in a smile, a little forced, and gave her a quick kiss before leaving. “Love you.” She handed him a plate of cookies she had set aside just for his friends and smiled. “Love you too.”

The afternoon was fun, relaxed, and he felt at home again in the Chateau, boots kicked up on the couch and Kie knocking them away like normal. He only felt slightly guilty when a joint was passed around but limited himself so he felt just a small high, brief enough for the moment. He only allowed himself to smoke when he was in the Outer Banks, in the safety of the Chateau, and he didn’t want to come home high to Charlie - mainly for her family’s sake. (If he even heard one teasing remark about him being a bad influence on Jamie, he’d swear off drugs forever.)

 “Didn’t bring your girl, JJ?” John B greeted him, slinging his arm around his shoulders and pulling him in for a hug.

JJ beamed the way he always did when someone referred to Charlie like that, as his girl, but shook his head and lied straight through his teeth. “Nah, they went to her grandparents’ house. I get to spend the day with you fools.” 

“Lucky you.” Pope quipped, joining the hug. JJ grinned and tucked his head in with the two, finding a familiar comfort in their embrace. “Missed you guys, you know.” 

Really, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop by his dad’s if he had Charlie in tow. He did this every year - showed up, got yelled at (sometimes worse), and was sorely reminded of why he didn’t talk to his dad or get replies if he sent him texts of what he was up to at school. His text thread with Luke was a string of unanswered messages from JJ, with a picture of him and Charlie dressed up for a formal - ‘hey dad, this is my girlfriend’ or a short message about school - ‘got an A on my marketing midterm today, kind of a big deal.’ Despite the pain it caused, JJ kept going back, like a moth drawn to flame.

When JJ came back to the Walker’s home, later than expected, he headed straight to Charlie’s room, barely giving her parents a greeting as he passed. His fists were shoved in his pockets and he gave them a brief nod and an excuse of “gonna go grab a hoodie from Charlie” before heading upstairs, even though it was technically off limits. Her dad went to say something but her mom registered his change in demeanor and stiff posture and stopped him, cutting him off from speaking and waving JJ upstairs.

Charlie was playing a card game with Jamie on her bed when JJ came in, awkwardly standing in the doorway. The siblings glanced up at the same time and Jamie grinned, gesturing for him to come play, while Charlie frowned as her eyes scanned over his set jaw and eyes rimmed red. “I’ll finish playing with you later, Jamie, take the cards.” She instructed calmly, not taking her eyes off JJ.

“But I -”

“Jamie. Go.” Jamie huffed and gathered the cards, then slipped out past him, JJ ruffling his hair affectionately as he left. JJ stepped forward slightly, shutting the door behind him, and finally took his hands out of his pockets, flexing them. Charlie spoke quietly. “What happened, J?”

“I, uh.” His voice cracked but he stood tall, unmoving. “Saw my dad.”

She stood and tugged him toward the bed by his wrist, noticing his split knuckles. “Did he...?” She trailed off curiously, frowning. He had only joked about his dad being a deadbeat in passing, and never quite elaborated on the extent of the abuse. Just said he was hit as a kid and left it at that, and Charlie was so shocked into silence that she left it too. 

JJ took a careful seat next to her on the bed and hissed when he bit his split lip. She took his hand in hers carefully, rubbing her thumb soothingly over the knuckles. “JJ, what...what exactly...” Charlie asked quietly, unsure on how to approach it.

____

The first time something happened, JJ was ten.

His mom had just left him and Luke, and his dad had drunk practically half the liquor store’s supply within a week. JJ stayed out all day, only returning at sundown after he had stolen a sandwich or so from the grocery store (sometimes of his own accord, sometimes the teenager working the other side of the counter looked at the messy unkempt kid with pity and slid one surreptitiously across the counter). He had done his best to avoid his dad when he knew he’d be active and was often able to creep back into his rickety old house and into his room without incident.

One night he miscalculated.

He returned home after playing with John B out on the beach all day, hair still wet and bare feet sandy. When his little feet made enough noise to alert his dad sitting at their decrepit kitchen table, cigarette in hand, he froze.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Luke drawled, eyes narrowing at JJ’s presence.

“School.” JJ replied hurriedly. “I gotta shower. G’night Dad.” He tried side stepping past his dad, but he caught JJ’s scrawny arm in his grip. He eyed over his child’s appearance, zeroing in on his eyes.

“Blue eyes just like your mother.”

JJ merely nodded, unsure.

“You remind me of her. Every fuckin’ day.” He snarled. “You’re the reason, you know that?”

“What?”

“She packed up and left me with you. Didn’t want to take care of you anymore.” His grip tightened on JJ’s arm and JJ’s heart rate quickened, suddenly aware this wasn’t the normal lecture he was used to receiving from his dad.

“I can take care of myself.” He offered meekly.

Wrong answer.

JJ’s dad brought his hand to his face and slapped him across the cheek, hard enough for JJ’s ears to start ringing and his cheek to sting with the imprint of his dad’s fingers. JJ stumbled backward out of his dad’s grip, hand to his cheek as he just stared at his dad in shock.

“You can’t. You’re a fucking kid, a fucking kid we didn’t need, and now you’re a fucking burden!” Luke roared, spitting at JJ’s feet. JJ never let his wide eyes stray from his dad as he backed up, further and further out the room, until he was scrambling out the window in his bedroom and taking off as far as he could get away from the tiny little shack he called home.

He slept in a hammock by the beach that night, letting the sound of the waves rock him to sleep after he cried himself to exhaustion. A mistake. A burden. Just like his mother. Those words echoed through his head in his dreams and he tossed fitfully in the hammock, little fingers curled into the woven material.

___

As JJ recalled those first moments, a memory he had tried so hard to suppress but was unsuccessful each time, he stared ahead and stayed stiff, jaw set. “He started when I was ten, after my mom left. Then I moved out when I was 18 and avoided him like hell.” He laughed, no humor to his tone. “Guess he’s not done with trying to hit his kid though.” 

“How often?” Charlie’s voice was small and pulled JJ abruptly out of his thoughts. Her gaze flitted over his expression, filled with worry, afraid to hear the answer. He shrugged. “Twice? Three times?”

“...a month?” 

He laughed again, bitter. “A week. Sometimes in a day, but I learned how to run fast enough.”  

“JJ.” She breathed out, horrified. 

“Don’t.” He replied quickly, still not looking at her. “Don’t need your pity.” 

“It’s not - J, you should have taken me, I would have stopped it - I’ll go and -” He grabbed her knee suddenly as she moved to rise. “Hell no, Charlie, you’re not going there over my dead body.” JJ finally made eye contact, swallowing hard as he tried blinking back tears. Truthfully, he was more overcome with emotion at her immediate willingness to protect him than anything.

At that, she went to throw her arms around him, moving too quick, and he flinched out of instinct. Charlie’s face dropped as she pulled her arms back to her side, until he leaned slightly into her and rested his head down on her shoulder. 

She moved slower at his permission, tugging him gently to lay back on the bed, his head rested on her chest as she combed her fingers gently through his hair. After a while, she broke the silence. “J? Why’d you go?”

He shrugged, curling his hand around her hip. “Dunno. Thought he might come around and be nice for once. You know, Christmas spirit and all.”

“JJ, hon…” Her voice cracked and she tried choking back a sob, but it still eked out. JJ lifted his head, dried tear streaks down his cheeks as he’d let himself cry when she couldn’t see his face. “Hey. No crying on my account.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just -” She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I’m so fucking angry, JJ. The thought of anyone hurting you - especially your dad - you don’t deserve that.”  

“Hm.”

“JJ.”

“Maybe I do.”

“JJ, don’t you fucking dare go there.”

He set his jaw and tucked back into her before continuing. “I said some stuff today I probably shouldn’t have.” 

“That doesn’t give him any right to hit you, fucking hell.” Charlie seethed, though she rubbed his back soothingly. “I thought about hitting back.” He mumbled. “Does that scare you?” 

“No. He would have deserved it.” She muttered, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

JJ’s lips turned up in a small smile and he lifted his head, glancing up at her. “You’re hot when you’re mad,” he tried deflecting. She scowled and tugged him up to kiss him, hard. “Listen.” Another kiss. “I love you. So much.” Another one. “You are so, so, special to me, hon, and you don’t deserve any of that. Not a single second of it.” 

As he opened his mouth to argue, she cut him off with another kiss. “Don’t you dare protest, because I won’t listen. You’re the most loyal person I know, J. You deserve the world.” 

He kept silent but the corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile and the tips of his ears burned red in embarrassment. “Charlie.”

“No, I’m not done. I feel so safe when I’m with you. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with how much I fucking love you. Always will.” Her kisses turned sweet and she peppered them all over his face until he flinched as she reached his cheekbone, a red mark blooming. “Careful, sweetheart.” He murmured and she pulled back, frowning. “I’m going to get ice and rubbing alcohol, then I want to clean you up. Your knuckles look rough.”

JJ shook his head quickly. “It’s fine, Charlie, I don’t want your mom and dad to -” 

“I won’t tell them. Stay here.” She cut him off and kissed him quickly before heading downstairs. 

Her dad was whispering to her mom in the kitchen, a deep frown on his face, and stopped abruptly when Charlie rounded the corner. Her mom looked shocked and raised her eyebrows at Charlie. “Charlotte, is it...?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Charlie asked, affronted on JJ’s behalf.

“I went to go check on him and I overheard. I’m sorry.” Her dad apologized quickly. “We won’t say a word.” He added, cutting her mom off from saying anything else.

“Don’t you dare. He only just opened up to me and I still don’t think I’m getting the whole story.” She grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and paused before heading back upstairs. “Don’t treat him differently, he’ll know. He’ll think I told you and then he won’t trust me, I - just - don’t.” She snapped, then ran back upstairs before her parents could object.

When she returned, JJ had his shirt off and was inspecting a blooming bruise on his ribs in the mirror, frowning as he splayed his hand over it. Charlie gasped and shut the door quickly, crossing the room in a few short strides to hand over the ice pack. “It’s not that bad.” He told her quickly, trying to reassure her. “Just a beer bottle, fists are worse.” 

“That’s not...that’s not right, J. They’re not broken, are they?” She asked, reaching out. He let her tenderly prod the bruise, oddly disconnected from the pain under her gentle touch. “I think they’re okay.” She told him, demeanor going professional. “Lay down for me?” 

He nodded and did so, letting her wrap the ice pack in a towel and press it gently to his side. Charlie sat next to him then wet a cotton ball with the rubbing alcohol and took his hand, glancing over. “It’s gonna sting.”  

“I know. Go for it.” He only let out a low hiss when she swiped the cotton ball across all his knuckles, hand squeezing hers reflexively. “You said you only thought about hitting back.” She pointed out, pressing her lips to the back of his hand. He nodded and looked a little sheepish. “Hit the tree out front.” 

“Hm.” She replied, looking closer for splinters, then set the rubbing alcohol aside. 

“He’s called me a good kid before.”  

“Yeah?”  

JJ nodded. “A couple times.” He added vaguely, though he remembered each time clear as day. “But I’m not sure he’s ever said he loves me.”

“I love you.” She frowned and adjusted the ice pack for him, keeping it in place. “I’ll tell you that every second of the day if you need it.”

“I know. But it’s different.” He mused, falling silent again. She didn’t push the topic, knowing she’d never quite understand. “Your mom, she…” He started, getting a little choked up.  

“What is it, J?” She asked, combing through his hair again. 

“A few days ago, she said it. About me.” 

She furrowed her brow slightly. “When?” 

“When she was about to lecture you.” He smirked a little and she felt herself relaxing just at the small sign of his usual demeanor. “She was talking about us having a kid, and she said as much as I love JJ…” He trailed off. “I don’t remember the rest. But she said it so easily. I’m not even her kid.”  

And my heart doesn’t work like that, JJ thought to himself. He stayed guarded, putting his trust in very few people. It was a miracle that he trusted Charlie so much, after only a short amount of time.

“Doesn’t matter. She still loves you. My dad does too, you know? And Jamie.” 

His brow furrowed slightly. “You don’t have to lie, Charlie.”  

“I’m serious. Everyone shows it in different ways. My mom made sure to ask your favorite recipes before we came home just so you could have something special over Christmas. My dad will text me with articles to share with you, or a song he thought you’d like, only because you two talked about Led Zeppelin once. Jamie practiced surfing with his friends every single weekend before we came back, just so he could impress you.” She paused, running her thumb gently along his jaw. “Family is family, even if it wasn’t yours from the start.” 

When he teared up a little, her eyes went wide, slightly panicking. “Don’t cry, J, please.”  

“You can’t say things like that and not expect me to have an emotional response, Charlie.” He teased, sitting up and pulling her in for a deep kiss. She smiled against his lips, holding back a little so she didn’t hurt him. “I mean it, JJ. I’m gonna love you for a long time.” 

“Love you too, sweetheart.” He promised sincerely, before drawing her in for another kiss. 

_____

After some time, the two made their way downstairs, hand-in-hand, tempted by the smell of dinner cooking. Her mom clapped her hands together with a grin, eyes only flitting over JJ’s cheek for a  moment. “Just in time for dinner, you two! JJ, dear, I heard mac and cheese was your favorite, so I put that together with some cornbread and brie stuffed chicken. Oh! And apple pie for dessert.”

JJ scanned over the table with wide eyes, impressed. “This looks incredible, Mrs. Walker, you didn’t have to do all that.”  

“Well, we had to do right by our favorite guest.” She smiled and handed him a plate, urging him forward. “There you go, eat up.” 

“What happened to your face?” Jamie questioned, without tact. 

“James!” Her mother scolded, sending JJ an apologetic smile. He shook his head, ruffling Jamie’s hair. “S’okay. Fell when I was out surfing with my friends.” 

Charlie frowned slightly at how easily he covered the lie. Jamie’s jaw dropped, indignant. “You went without me?” 

JJ laughed. “Had to take on the big waves for a second, kiddo. I’ll take you tomorrow, alright?” 

“For real?” Jamie brightened, his insolence short-lived. “I’m learning how to cutback, I can show you. And you can help me too, I know you’re good at it.”  

“For real.” JJ promised, beaming at Charlie. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling. “Told you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He dismissed, but was beaming ear-to-ear.

Once they finished dinner and dessert, JJ’s mood was considerably lifted as he realized how truly comfortable he felt around Charlie’s family. “JJ, come help me with the fire?” Her dad asked, pushing away from the table. JJ nodded and followed dutifully. The two built the frame mainly in silence, until JJ shoved a log under the a-frame, arranging the kindling on top. 

“Never seen it done that way.” Her dad commented with raised eyebrows, but handed him the matchbox anyways. 

“Uh, cuts down on the wood you need to burn. But we can do it your way if you’d like, yours might be better -” JJ started, hurriedly going to rearrange the wood. Her dad caught his arm gently and JJ froze, forcing himself to exhale. “Let’s try it your way, bud, might be better.” 

JJ nodded and lit the fire, and her dad whistled in appreciation when it caught quickly, roaring to flame. “I’ll be damned.” Charlie came out, handing both of them a beer, a little hesitant with JJ. He accepted it with a grateful smile, leaning into her when she curled her arm protectively around his waist. “You’re handy with a lot of these things, aren’t you, JJ?” Her dad asked. 

“A little. I like working on physical things.” 

“I heard you changed the spark plugs on Charlie’s car, I’ve been trying to figure that out for ages. I’m impressed.” He offered an encouraging smile and JJ ran his hand through his hair, grateful it was dark enough to hide his blush. “Yeah, well. Didn’t want something to happen when she was driving, so I took care of it.”   

“I appreciate that. You’re good at taking care of her, kid.” Her dad lifted his beer bottle and JJ tapped the neck of the glass against his, grinning once he took a sip. “She’s worth it.” 

[inkribbon796]

Lost in a Lightning Storm Ch. 2: Far from Home

Summary: You shouldn’t talk about people, and not expect them to find out.

Chapters: 1, 2

While Henrik and Anti were talking to Tubbo and Logan, and then subsequently went off to Nate’s house to do some research, Mare went to go find Anti.

Anti was cackling with the Duke on some rooftop, who had escaped arrest after the chaos he had created. The two chaos-loving criminals were laughing and joking.

“Anti! Your boyfriend is getting too brave, you gotta[1] do something!” Mare said as he leaned over a massive air conditioning unit to get into the glitch’s face. Anti was lying on his back on the rooftop.

“Ooooooohhh~ You have a boyfriend?” Remus gave a huge smile, turning on his stomach and kicking his feet up like they were a bunch of pre-teens at a slumber party. “And you didn’t tell your best friend? For shame.”

“Shut up,” Anti kicked him in the face. Then he turned back to Mare. “I don’t got[2] a boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah, then what the hell is he?” Mare bit back.

“None ‘a yer fookin’ business,”[3] Anti spat back.

“M’kay,[4] whatever,” Mare rolled his eyes. “Point is, he’s trying to find you.”

“I’m right here, let ‘im[5],” Anti scoffed, still lying on the ground.

“No, the old you, the human one,” Mare warned.

“Why?” Anti spat.

“I don’t know, humans are dumb,” Mare spat. “He’s your problem, you deal with him.”

“Fook[6] you!” Anti spat and stormed off.

Directly after he stormed off, he realized that he hadn’t asked Mare where Henrik was. But it was too late to storm off. Mostly because he overheard Remus trying to weedle information out of Mare. Anti was too in his own head to admit to even himself that he was embarrassed.

So he went out to find Henrik. Except he wasn’t at the hospital . . . and Logan didn’t seem to know where he was. He wasn’t at the hospital either so Anti ran around for a little bit and found them in Nate’s house.

For a couple moments, Anti debated on how upset Mare would be if he barged into his territory. Then he figured that if Mare didn’t want him to trespass, he shouldn’t have told him to take care of Henrik . . . and Anti had been in Nate’s house before on multiple occasions.

So Anti tripped about three alarms to get into the house and Nate and Henrik watched him stroll right into the living room where they were.

“Don’t yeh[7] two know not ta[8] talk about someone behind their back?” Anti layered on the glitching and blood as much as he could.

“You are certainly getting better at zat[9] effect,” Henrik complimented.

“You bleed on my carpet and I will stab you with a soul splitter,” Nate threatened.

Anti pulled out his knife, completely offended that they weren’t screaming in terror.

Nate helped up a stake, the wood was etched with runes and spell writing. “Anti, I don’t want to explain to the rest of your friends why you’re in pieces.”

“Why the fook are yeh diggin’ inta my personal shite?”[10] Anti demanded.

“Because zer is much I do not know about you, und I vish to correct zat,”[11] Henrik told him, Nate was on his computer, still looking through old census records and newspaper reports.

“I’m right the fook[6] here,” Anti spat.

“I cannot recall a time ven ve have ever talked about any’zing,”[12] Henrik told Anti pointedly.

Anti glared at him, his nose scrunched up like the demon was about to pull his lips back in a snarl. “Why, though? No point in lookin’[13] fer[14] a dead man.”

Henrik stood up, really studying Anti’s expression, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop.”

Anti sputtered for a moment, “I don’t care.”

“I am serious Anti, if all zis[15] investigation makes you uncomfortable or vas[16] a traumatic experience, I vill[17] stop.”

A myriad of uncomfortable feelings, that Anti refused to unpack or acknowledge, prickled under his skin and boiled his blood. He absolutely refused to be afraid of some past specter he could barely remember. Anti was better than some human who’s only contribution to the world had been dying so that Anti could be brought into the world.

So instead Anti just scoffed, some derisive, forced laugh, “Whate’er yeh two arses wanna dig up some dead bitch that did me the favor ‘a dyin’, go ahead. Here, I’ll e’en help.”[18]

Henrik watched for any sign that Anti was joking or would destroy Nate’s computer. “If you are certain.”

“Oh yeah,” Anti dismissed. “What did yeh shitebags find?”[19]

“Well,” Nate stalled as he watched Anti walk over, he stayed braced with his stake. “Don’t break my stuff.”

“I won’t,” Anti smiled. “Come on, we got some loser ta[8] find.”

“That “loser” is also a past version of you,” Nate pointedly reminded.

“Watch it, meatbag,” Anti warned. “If he wanted ta[8] stay alive, he shouldn’ta[20] died.”

“Eloquent,” Henrik commented.

“Shut,” Anti hissed back.

“Do you remember your country of origin?” Nate asked. “I’ve got several different deaths from lightning storms and factory accidents from the past 150—”

“I ne’er[21] worked in a factory,” Anti huffed, before mentally stalling because he couldn’t remember how he knew that, just that he did.

“Really?” Nate commented without even blinking. “That helps narrow it down. Means you only could have died from lightning if you’re as old as Mare says you are.”

“Mare needs ta[8] learn ta[8] keep his trap shut,” Anti scoffed.

“You were right there when he told me that, and you didn’t say anything,” Nate reminded.

Anti looked away from him, “I don’t remember this, it didn’t happen.”

“Anyways, do you remember where you came from?” Nate turned back to his computer. “I know the Septics first met you in Ireland, but are you from there too?”

“Been ta a lot ‘a places,”[22] Anti shrugged. “How am I supposed ta[8] know?”

“Well it vould[23] make it easier,” Henrik reminded.

Anti rolled his eyes, “I woke up in Australia. I hitched a ride on several hosts until I got ta[8] Ireland. I don’t know if I died there, my first ten years were a blur.”

“You are Australian?” Henrik was staring at Anti.

“No.” Hunching his shoulders up defensively, Anti glared at the doctor, “Maybe? I can’t remember. What’s it ta[8] yah[7]?”

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” Henrik rushed to say. “I just . . . it is a good thing.”

Nate and Anti just stared at him, neither of them sure which direction to take that comment, but Henrik wasn’t looking Anti in the eyes anymore. He was glancing at Anti though, a lot.

But with a country narrowed down, Nate was able to eliminate several different possible candidates. Until there were five people left, four men and one woman. Mostly because it wasn’t unheard of for gender changes to occur when a human became a demon.

“Okay,” Nate said. “We have: Caleb Carson, Hannah Laverty, Brendan O’Heyne, Angus Collins, and Joe Morrin. Does anyone sound familiar, I don’t see any pictures so . . .”

Anti’s brain felt clouded, like there was something wrong but he couldn’t place it. He felt the urge to stab something and run. Like he was in danger.

“Anti? Are you alright?” Henrik asked, there was a look on Anti’s face that the German doctor hadn’t seen on him before.

Anti’s attention drifted towards one of the names in particular. He had no memories left of that person.

Much of that person was gone now, eroded away by time, but snippets remained. Being arrested for something . . . feeling disgusting inside afterwards . . .

. . . Feeling sick as the boat wouldn’t stop shaking the world around him . . .

. . . The heat of the sun burning his skin, almost hot as the anger that burned inside of him . . .

. . . And then a deafening CRACK as he felt like his body was exploding with pain. And how they’d just . . .

“They left me there,” Anti remembered, his form glitching erratically. “They left my fookin’[24] corpse ta[8] rot!”

“Anti‽” Henrik called out but the two humans watched Anti violently shatter apart in a discorporation.

Nate surged up immediately and took out an amulet necklace. One he had once’s a while ago to safely carry Mare around. But he used his magic to scoop up as much of Anti’s aura as possible to keep him from fracturing.

“Vat[25] happened?” Henrik demanded.

“He must have remembered something,” Nate tried to calm Henrik down as he was casting spells to see how violent the discorporation was, “I don’t think it was a good thing.”

Henrik snatched the necklace away, looking at it. “Vill[17] he be alright?”

“He still seems to be in one piece, but it might take a while for him to reform,” Nate warned.

“I zink ve should stop,”[26] Henrik looked over at Nate’s laptop. “If I had known his reaction vould have been zis violent I vould have stopped ven he confronted us.”[27]

“Yeah,” Nate agreed and watched Henrik put the necklace on. “Be careful with him, an injured demon’s a more dangerous one.”

“I vill[17],” Henrik promised, and gathered up his stuff with a stiff thank you for Nate’s help and the doctor went over to his apartment with the necklace. Anti took a couple of days to reform, but he didn’t talk to Henrik. The demon would escape the necklace and then slip back in whenever Henrik was distracted or busy.

After almost a week since the incident at Nate’s house, Henrik decided that, if Anti wasn’t going to talk to him, Henrik would talk to Anti. He started out small, complaining about the coffee machine at the hospital, about how muggy the weather was.

Then, one night, while Henrik was sitting on his couch, watching some TV show, or at least had it on in the background while he was staring down at the necklace in his hands, the doctor decided to be a bit more blunt. He watched the gem, saw almost like glitchy lightning crackling underneath the surface. “I must admit, part of ze[28] reason I went digging vas[16] to get a reaction out of you.”

There was a pause to the energy in the necklace. But after a bit the glitched lightning continued as if nothing had happened.

“If you do not vant to talk about zis matter, I vill not force you,”[29] Henrik told him. “But I had hoped to get a violent reaction out of you, not to actually harm you. For zat[9] I am sorry.”

Anti’s aura shot out of the necklace was just staring at Henrik. “Why was that what yeh were goin’ fer?”[30]

“You have tried to kill me und[31] my friends many times, und[31] I vanted[32] to get you to attack me,” Henrik admitted.

“Why?” Anti scoffed, plopping down on Henrik’s couch. “If I wanted yeh[7] dead, I would’a[33] done it already.”

He took glared at him. “Zat[9] is exactly the problem, you have zis[15] odd stalking infatuation but you have tried to kill me in the past. Not to mention you utterly ruined Average’s marriage und[31] his ability to visit his children.”

“The fooker was gettin’ cucked an’ e’eryone knew it,”[34] Anti dismissed.

“She vas doin’ no’zing of ze sort,”[35] Henrik defended heatedly.

Anti looked away angrily.

The two sat in angry silence for a little while, before Henrik sighed, taking off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose before carefully putting them back on. “Anti, vat do you vant out of zese interactions ve have?”[36]

The glitch demon decided he would rather talk about literally anything else, but his only other option was talking about his former human life and he wasn’t sure which made him look worse. “I like it when yeh[7] get angry at me.”

“Is it simply ze[28] anger or ze[28] attention?” Henrik asked, genuinely trying to understand.

Anti still wasn’t looking at him, deciding that he’d rather take the human talk. “My name used ta[8] be somethin’[37] else.”

“Vich[38] do you prefer?” Henrik asked.

“Anti,” Anti told him hesitantly.

“Zen[39] you are Anti,” Henrik agreed. “As you said, zat[9] man is dead, und[31] you are here.”

Something in Anti’s chest tightened, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like even the reminder that he was human. But he started leaning over towards Henrik. It was just a little bit of a lean, not enough to even get near Henrik. So the doctor closed the distance for him, lightly resting his shoulder against Anti’s.

“I zink zat you like the attention, vich I am more zen happy to give to you,”[40] Henrik smiled at him as Anti still refused to hold eye contact with him. “Und ven you know vat you vant, you can tell me in your own time.”[41]

For the rest of the night the two of them sat in almost near silence. Anti wasn’t ready to admit anything, but still tantalizingly close all the same. Anti getting closer and close to Henrik until the doctor was pressed up against the side of the couch and Anti was leaning against him. Anti sat next to Henrik as the doctor just ran his fingers through his hair. Anymore and Anti would have started hissing and pulling away. But as he leaned into the touch the glitch decided that he liked this attention.

Henrik occasionally looked over at Anti, smiling at him.

And if, as he scratched his fingers across his scalp, heard him give out very quiet purring sounds, the doctor decided not to tease the glitch demon about them . . . at least not yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post A/N: Anti in his AU used to be a man by the name of Angus (Jack’s “survivalist” character he made super early in his channel and in this AU Angus was arrested and sent to Australia where he subsequently died from a freak lightning storm, and then cue villain arc.

Side note: Henrik likes Anti’s Australian accent, he likes it a lot! No I will not back down from this extremely unpopular headcanon.

Accessibility Translations:

1. have to

2. have

3. None of your fucking business

4. Okay

5. him

6. Fuck

7. you

8. to

9. that

10. Why the fuck are you digging into my personal shit?

11. Because there is much I don’t know about you, and I wish to correct that

12. I can’t recall a time when we have ever talked about anything

13. looking

14. for

15. this

16. was

17. will

18. Whatever you two assholes want to dig up some dead bitch that did me the favor of dying, go ahead. Here, I’ll even help.

19. What did you shitbags find?

20. shouldn’t have

21. never

22. I’ve been to a lot of places

23. would

24. fucking

25. What

26. I think we should stop

27. If I had known his reaction would have been this violent I would have stopped when he confronted us.

28. the

29. If you do not want to talk about this matter, I will not force you

30. Why was that what you were going for?

31. and

32. wanted

33. would have

34. The fucker was getting cucked and everyone knew it

35. She was doing nothing of the sort

36. Anti, what do you want out of these interactions we have?

37: something

38. which

39. then

40. I think that you like the attention, which I am more then happy to give to you

41. And when you know what you want, you can tell me in your own time.

[tu-mint]

Amendment

A/N: Sooo I’ve been meaning to share my Mortal Kombat stuff on here for a while, I wanted to wait for the movie to come out first 😅🤣

TW: mentions of torture & sexual assault

In which Shang Tsung and the Black Dragon are officially put down and Earthrealm's defenders are able to return home, but Raelynn is stuck in her thoughts, but one of the young Kombatants is able to help her reconsider the negativity in her mind. (Based around MK11 & Aftermath but w/ a twist?)

Raelynn knew this all too well. With her entity as a half god, a change in time would do nothing to erase the horrifying memory in her mind back in the Black Dragon's dungeon -- at least, that's what it felt like. Hours upon hours of nothing but brutal beatings, each kick, punch, and swing as harsh as the last. While it wouldn't have hurt too much being that she was stronger than the average mortal, the bindings fused with the dark power of Shinnok's amulet extracted much of her godlike strength and left her as a helpless bait to be shredded and mauled at by the jaws of vicious and starved predators, desperate to take a leap at the prey before them. It still seemed unbelievable how she was alive even after all the bruises and cuts and blood...but she managed. After all, those shallow wounds were all but nothing comapred to--

The demigoddess shivered involuntarily and inhaled sharply. Thankfully, everyone aboard was too immersed in their own activities to notice her sudden actions, but she knew she wasn't stable enough with where her thoughts were treading. Her eyes searched for her son who was currently speaking in a group of the younger Kombatants. A yellow strip of cloth with an intricate design she couldn't make out was fastened around his bicep, and she wondered where it had come from until her eyes peered at the young male he stood beside. Takeda, son to Kenshi and pupil under Grandmaster Hasashi, was missing the usual yellow band that adorned his head as a reminder to those that he was a member of the Shirai Ryu clan. His short onyx locks blew freely but he didn't seem to mind all that much, instead grinning down at Haru who wore the cloth proudly. Cassie and Jacqui mirrored the telepath's reaction, the blonde pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. The sight warmed her heart and she was thankful the young fighters didn't look upon her son with irritation, but rather genuine care and happiness. When Haru had told her of the adventures and stories spent with them, a pang of guilt struck her for the early misjudgement on her part, believing they were just frivolous juveniles that only gained their high positions due to the status of their families.

Wishing not to allow her brooding to draw unwanted attention, Raelynn slipped silently to the back of the ship. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Raiden who stood near the hull of the ship, but he decided against speaking with her in that moment.

He recalled the time he had found her, bound like a dog and covered in welts and lacerations big and small. She was curled into a ball, shaking and burying her face into her knees. It was then Raiden became aware of the state of her clothing, torn and barely covering her form as if someone intentionally ripped and pulled at it to expose more of her. Immediately he slipped out of his own robe and pulled it across her trembling form, respectfully averting his eyes. As he helped Raelynn stand to her feet, his eyes widened as countless more bruises and marks made themselves visible, tiny splotches of smooth brown skin barely surviving. These people had clearly put her through a very long, thorough beating, and it was evident that they were in no means hoping to show mercy. No, they wanted her dead. Raiden had teleported into the SF ship and rushed her to the infirmary room. People cleared the way immediately and knew better than to question his sudden appearance as he brushed past them while carrying the barely conscious woman to a bed near the back. He knew the Kombatants would be able to handle themselves well, so he stayed and began the healing process.

It was during this time he realized that Raelynn was no mere mortal, but a half god created by the hands of Cetrion. While it was difficult at first for him to fully trust her said intentions due to her creator's betrayal upon the Elder Gods, he had seen her heart's purity during the mission. The thunder god knew that she was making the best of efforts to redeem herself of past mistakes, and Liu Kang recognized this as well. A twinge of concern fell upon him just then as he knew that she still had much she needed to recover from. Whether she would eventually open up to him or not didn't matter, he would be patient and assist her as best as he could.

Raelynn took a seat upon the thick wooden rail and swung her legs over to face the bloody depths of Netherrealm's ocean. She wasn't afraid of falling nor coming across any odd sea creatures knowing that she had flying abilities, but of course she also wasn't dumb enough to try and test her strength or reflexes. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked on at the overlapping waves, allowing her mind to space out and roam. Her fingers tapped on the rail in a rhythmic pattern, and she suddenly was reminded of something. Her hands came together and moved in a circular motion, stretching further until the form of her solar powers had become a guitar. She clutched the neck and hugged the body of the instrument under her other arm smiling to herself.

Upon visiting the islands of the Pacific in the past, she had learned about the aspect of music through vocals and tools that produced a pleasant audio. The demigoddess found that these brought her a sense of peace and tranquility, and immediately she wanted to learn the ways of this fascinating revelation. What came as an interest to her in the beauty of music was the endless techniques for a new sound, new sensations, new reactions, and day by day, there was always the creation or discovery of another. She allowed her fingers to delicately pluck and strum a mix of chords, a tingle settling in her chest at the euphoria beginning to wash over her. Her hands moved on their own accord, finding a steady tempo and following a pattern with an occasional switch. The nerves that built up in the pit of her stomach had eventually disappeared into wisps of nothingness. Her eyes began to slowly close and she hummed quietly wanting no attention to be drawn to the back of the ship. It seemed to work decently, until-

"Wow, you're part god and a singer? Gotta say I'm definitely jealous."

The woman’s fingers froze in place already in position to strum a new chord. She craned her neck just enough to glance over her shoulder at the intruder, already knowing it who it was. “My life is nothing to be envious of, Specialist Briggs.”

Raelynn heard footsteps tread closer and tapped on her guitar. The younger woman climbed onto the rail and threw a leg over the other. They sat for a moment in silence, staring off at the deep scarlet waters swishing and rolling about. “I owe you an apology, Specialist.”

Jacqui’s eyebrow quirked and her eyes fell upon the half god. Raelynn took her silence as a sign to continue. “I apologize for my behavior towards you and your friends throughout most of the mission. Even after I had caused harm upon your lives and nearly killed your fiancé, you still ensured trust in me. That I could never understand, but-"

"It wasn't easy." The half goddess shifted her attention to the soldier. Her face was impassive as she watched the waves. Raelynn couldn't tell if her expression was a good or bad thing, but she decided against trying to get her hopes up. A great deal (if not all) of her acts under Cetrion were cruel and groundless, and she held no anguish up until the time she had to come face to face with the truth of her doings. It tore her day and night, and meeting Hajoon had her convinced that she would be able to leave the life of corruption far behind and start fresh. Of course, the facts couldn't be hidden forever, and the half goddess found herself back in the deep hole of falsehood, surrounded with nothing but fabricated offers to a better life. She scoffed mentally. That opportunity was officially closed off to her. It seemed as though disaster was always a few steps away, eager to ruin her chances at something sound, and risking it a third time was nowhere near appealing.

"There were many instances where I questioned why the Chosen One defended you to such an extent, especially after it was SF that provided for your recovery." Jacqui's voice had brought her out of her thoughts. "Trust me, I was beyond ready to blast a hole or two through your head a hell lot of times." She paused. "But spending time with Haru and hearing your whole deal...I understood you." Raelynn's brows raised slightly, not expecting such a considerate response.

"I couldn't imagine a life finding out that the one who was supposed to be my caretaker, my protector, my safe haven, was actually the one who robbed me of all that. My mother..." Her words trailed off and she peered down into her lap. She tightened her jaw and bit her lip to keep from releasing the tears awaiting just behind her eyes. Raelynn almost reached her hand out in an effort of comfort but stopped, not wanting to ruin the intimacy in the moment. Jacqui lifted her head and continued. "Man, it would kill me if she'd ever done something like that...growing up believing that everything was all good and sweet, and everyone just hated her for doing what I thought was the right thing, thinkin' it was my own folks who were the crooks trynna steal me away and take my power from me..." She scoffed. "Seein' my dad as a revenant then manipulated by Kronika was betrayal enough, and it hurt like hell. Point is, I realized that you truly had no malice in you. You were just takin' orders and tryin' to keep your mother—uh, Cetrion, happy."

And it was true. Raelynn trusted completely in the virtue goddess as any child would their guardian. She worked vigorously in carrying out the Elder Goddess' wishes, longing to eventually gain any sort of praise or affection, but it was rare that those occurrences came to past. Most of her upbringing revolved around unanswered questions and the constant urge to do better, trying at all costs to win approval. But like a fool, she allowed her heart to get the best of her, put her through the worst of hells just to seek out a foolish desire that would never be anything close to genuine. That's what messed her up in the first place, and she couldn't—no, would not dare to do something as stupid as that again. It was only her and Haru. Nobody else.

"I am...appreciative of your understanding, Ms. Briggs," Raelynn spoke after a long moment of silence. "You and your comrades are owed a huge debt on my behalf."

Jacqui chuckled and shook her head, then turned to look at the demigoddess. "You're damn right we are!" The two women shared a laugh on the rail. "Actually, I believe there is a way to pay back this debt."

"How so?"

"Well, Takeda and I's wedding was put on pause due to this whole mission, and it cost a lot to find decent live music. Cassie offered, but we're trying to have a simple proper wedding, not a drunk karaoke session. And you have the voice of an angel—well, a god in your case. If you can strum a few chords and sing a few notes for a few hours, I'll consider you free of deficit."

Raelynn cocked her head and raised a brow. "That's...that's all?" She figured the woman would request of something more extravagant, like a prolonged lifespan or giving her supernatural abilities. Jaqui nodded and crossed her arms awaiting an answer.

"I...very well, Ms. Br-"

"Jacqui. That formality stuff is weird if it's not comin' from General Blade." The demigoddess was taken by surprise again. She gave a single nod and looked on at the waves which now fell into to a more mellow and calm pattern.

Perhaps it wasn't just Haru and her against the world. Every person aboard had their story, their differences, their fall outs, but they were able to cast it all aside at an effort for peace upon a world that did almost nothing for them in return. Some aspects of the Earthrealm were odd, she thought. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to these people, but maybe, just maybe...

There was a sense of hope.

[fearixfox]

jxjdskdnsk the gambling one shot you made was so cute! it reminded me of my mc sm. and cause of that can i request mammon with an mc whos parents regulate some of the biggest casinos? and mc is the next hier to a powerful mafia? pretty please :D

I had a lot of fun with this one and I’m sorry it took so long! It was a lot shorter but it just kept building so it took a while. https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLde0UQUs-l0KJ29TSCYYGjcrrGBkOjR7P  This is a playlist that I used for some scenes. Thank you for the ask <3

“Wanna go?” You tease as you poke Mammon’s cheek.  “I mean, I-” He lets out a sigh. “I should go to keep an eye on you. I am your first anyway.” “First pact,” you correct him with a giggle. “I know Lucifer said he would go with me and you can’t defy him but I can. So, let’s go?”

Lord Diavolo has given you an extremely special present for your birthday. A weekend out in the human world. The only regulation is that a demon brother has to accompany you. The demons jumped on the opportunity immediately but you already had your heart set on a little avatar of greed. 

You say your goodbyes to the other brothers and thank Diavolo. “Make sure you’re back before midnight on Sunday. You still have your lessons to take care of,” he says with a smile. You nod to him and look over to Mammon who was being scolded by Lucifer. He nods and gives you a nervous smile that makes your stomach jump. “Jump in when you’re ready. It will take you wherever you want to be.” Diavolo said gesturing towards the hole. 

You dash over to Mammon, taking his hand and diving headfirst into the hole. You end up in a penthouse, looking over the vast craziness of New York City. “Brings back memories!” You hum looking out the window. “Um…why’re we in New York?! Is this your place?! You mentioned you lived a quiet life but I would say this isn’t that.” Mammon says with an awestruck look. He was shocked completely.  

“Mammon,” you chuckle at his child-like gaze, “when this present was given to me I saw it more as a chance to have fun than to go back to normal life. I couldn’t think of anything more fun than spending a weekend in the Big Apple, gambling my life savings off with you.” You poke his nose and he blushes, looking away. “The penthouse is a friend’s and I already arranged this trip a while ago. Just for you and me. Is that okay?” You say with pleading eyes. “Y-yeah, I mean of course it’s fine! You have the best gambler in all of the Devildom on your side. Ya won’t lose.” He says with a wink. You squeeze his hand. “Good! Lemme drop my stuff and we can go have some fun.” 

“How’s this look?” You say spinning in an outfit that accentuated your every feature. His eyes went wide and his mind went to other places. “Y/n, we are gambling, not going to-” You put a finger to his lips. “Shush, you are in the land of y/n. Let’s go. ” Mammon was clearly not fond of your garment but little did he know how safe it would keep him.

(Poker Face- Lady Gaga)

You and Mammon enter a casino and walk around the various tables and games. “Oi y/n, are you even good at gambling? I mean you’ve beat me once by luck but you never play at home. Ya sure you’re up for it?” He was clearly trying to keep himself composed at your side but you could tell he was itching to play. You walk over to a  black jack table  “Care to find out?”. As if you said the magic words, Mammon sits down and asks the dealer to put you guys in.

“Oh, do my eyes deceive me or is that the most magnificent ever beautifully cruel y/n?” A man said to the left of you and Mammon. You’ve gotta be kidding me. I didn’t realize it would be this quick. Mammon was ready to retort but you hold his wrist. “Kuroo, it’s been a while. I didn’t realize I had the courtesy to see your smug face.” You give him a fake smile. “Oi y/n, who’s the rooster head? He looks shady.” Mammon says, clearly wary of your relationship with him. 

Well he is the Consigliere somehow but there’s no way you’re going to tell him that. He was your nanny for a good part of your life and your advisor for the rest. You are technically the underboss but in this line of work it's not the greatest. What if he knew. Would he tell? He’s an idiot of course he would. 

You were raised to scare and torture so when you were teleported to hell itself, you weren’t surprised. Living amongst the demons made you feel less corrupted, pure even. You could have a life there when it’s all said and done. You’ve realized how soft you’ve become around the brothers...around Mammon... but now wasn’t the time for that.

“He’s my father’s friend. Think of him as my uncle.” You reassure him. “Ah you wound me y/n, I’m not that old at all. Only two years older than you if I recall.” He states clearly teasing Mammon. You glare at Kuroo. “He’s only trying to get a raise out of you, Mams. You can relax. He’s actually five years older than me, not that it matters.” You give him a gentle smile. “Let’s win.” 

You play through the rounds and your skills are a little rusty but you manage. You bust and it’s now Kuroo against Mammon. Sadly you knew the game, Kuroo already bought the dealer out and within 30 minutes it was a loss. “Ugh y/n, he is your uncle right? Can we get our money back? I can’t believe me the Great Mammon lost to a simple human.” Mammon huffs. You giggle at him “No, we have more money to burn I bet you we can make double what you lost. Just give it some y/n magic.” You smile sweetly at him. Kuroo’s eyes lowered at the sight. 

“Y/n, a word? Your father wanted me to pass on a message.” He says with a tone you know you can’t object. You turn to Mammon, “Hey, I’m going to be a minute can you play roulette for me? I was never good at it and would love some Mammoney luck.” He gave a light laugh at this. “Sure thing but don’t take too long, I’ll drain ya.” He says with your card in hand. 

You move with Kuroo to a room away from prying eyes. Your expression turns cold as soon as you step into the room. “So, what’s Boss want?”  You say clearly not wasting any time. “Oh child is that any way to talk about your old man?” Kuroo teases, his eyes filled with malice. “He’s been worried sick about his second in command, but little did he know they were laying low fuckin around with some low life pretty boy.” 

Kuroo’s words made your blood boil. In a way, he was your own Lucifer, always caring for you with an iron fist. When the time came he did take a bullet for you, but it didn’t make him less irritating. “And? Is that all you had to tell me? You’re managing.” Your expression was as cold as ice. It felt like slipping into a different personality. You couldn’t tell which one you were more. The kind person you were around the brothers or the brutal underboss of this world you were forced into. “Well, I guess you’re right. You must be glad Akaashi is so capable. You disappeared for a few months and the money keeps flowing.” Kuroo sits down with a laugh. 

Now you knew why he was here. You asked Akaashi for the penthouse and he can’t deny Boss. “Still babysitting I see, even though I’m grown.” You give a light laugh. “Well, tell Boss I’ll be away for a while longer and Akaashi can take care of things until then. I’m busy working out some things.” Kuroo’s interest was piqued.

 “Ah I was wondering about the boy. He looks so exotic and youn-” ''You lay a finger on him, you’ll be filled with lead by morning. I don’t give a fuck who you are.” You cut Kuroo off. “I promise, you won’t even be safe in Hell.” Kuroo had never seen you so stern towards him before but enjoyed your wrath. “I’ll pass on the message.” 

You find your white haired demon kicking some ass at roulette and basking in his own glory. Your heart melts at the sight and Mammon notices you. “Y/n! Guess how much we won?” He says waving chips around, giving a goofy smile. “I tripled the amount on your card!” Wait, he bet all of it? “Mams do you know how much money was on the card?” You say in a serious tone. “I hav’ta tell ya I don’t sweat the small stuff. Just be grateful. For the Great Mammon has claimed victory.” He lifts you up and spins you around in glee. You can’t help but smile at him. 

You play a few more games and head out to an expensive restaurant. "Y/n, are you sure you can afford all of this?" He clearly wanted to order the whole menu. "You tripled my card somehow so might as well use it." You smile back at him.  His eyes light up as he looks at the menu, looking forward to the meal. 

(Nana triste-Natalia Lacunza)

A slow song was playing on the dance floor and Mammon looked at you with a want in his eyes. "Care for this dance, my avatar of greed?" You ask for his hand. He blushes and gives it to you. 

"Wait a minute that was backwar-'' You pull him close to you and start dancing. "It's okay Tiger. You're cuter this way." He wants to retort but can only focus on how close your bodies are. 

"Ya know, Lucifer asked me to take care of you. It's like he was handing off his child to a husband. He's so irritating at times. I mean I'm totally reliable. Don't you think Y/n?" He says softly in your ear. You let out a soft laugh. "I think you would make a wonderful husband Mams. Be careful or I may make you mine.” You whisper so close he can feel your breath on his neck. He immediately jumps back. “Like I would ever marry a human even if they’re...they’re...” He trails off. “They’re what Mammon?” You step closer to him again. “Ahhh look, foods here. Let’s eat.” He says immediately retreating. 

You both eat and drink to your heart's content. By the end of the meal, Mammon was a babbling child.  “Ya know you should be more prouda me. I went outta ma way for y/n.” He slurs. “I could’ve let Lucifer take the human like was planned but I secretly begged ta go. Don’t tell, y/n.” He whispers to you. And that’s enough of that. You take away his alcohol and start feeding him water shots. He couldn’t tell the difference. “Ya know, I told y/n I wouldn’t never marry a human but secretly if it was them it wouldn be bad. If it was, maybe I could be happy all the time.” He smiles before immediately falling over. You couldn’t help but look at him fondly. “Me too.” 

You help him into the penthouse and lay him down on your bed. I totally could. I should. No I shouldn’t. You stare at Mammon’s sleeping figure and start unbuttoning his shirt just enough for him to breathe. He was sleeping so soundly that you wish you could stay in that moment forever. “I love you, Mammon.” You whisper and kiss his head. “Always have.” 

You decide to go to the convenience store and get some things to ease his hangover. You see a couple around the sunglasses rack trying all sorts of glasses on, laughing at each other. You couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at their simple life. Sadly, nothing ever came easy for you. You bring your supplies back to see an empty bed. “Mammon? Where’d you go buddy?” You examine the bed closely and find a symbol on a small piece of paper. You crumple it and walk briskly out the door.

(Riot - Hollywood Undead)

You were going to kill Kuroo. You meant what you said and did not have to think twice about seeing the floor spattered with his blood. He wanted you home. He didn’t care what it took to get you there. He will cage Mammon up and keep him as a pet and hang it over you if it meant you would take over. It was his job after all. You knew exactly where he would take him. Kuroo would take him to the only person you can’t deny. 

You bust the gates open to the old property to see only soldiers around. “Y/n, long time no see.” Your eyes lower at the sight of Tsukishima. “Where is he?” You sneer. “Oh, whoever are you talking about?” Tsukishima laughs at your angry expression. “Olala, you mean our new mutt. He’s chained up inside like the dog he is. However, you and I have some business.” Soldiers started to surround you. “Boss said to restrain you. As long as we don’t kill you, any way is fine.” You laugh at his statement. “As if, you can.” 

You immediately jump into action and dodge the knives that are flying towards you. Soldier after soldier comes at you with swinging fists and slicing knives. “It’s bad to ruin the merchandise,” you say dealing blow after blow, making sure not to fatally injure them. Tsukishima just watches as you pummel your way to the door not even bothering to stop you himself. “You must really care for this lousy mutt. Too bad you’ll never see him again.” You ignore him and head into the house and see Mammon gagged and chained to a chair. 

“Mmmm! MMMm!” Mammon desperately tried to call your name. He had a bruise on the left side of his face and tears in his eyes. You pay him no heed as you stare at the two men at the table with him. “Ah y/n, how nice of you to join us. I was just telling Boss what great work you’ve been doing and how your loyalty inspires the rest of us.” Kuroo hummed. 

(Body-mother mother)

“Boss, I apologize for not coming sooner. I have much to discuss with you. Beginning with letting that mutt go.” You say dropping on one knee. “I was worried about you, y/n. I expected better and ya let me down.” Boss says with a disappointed tone.

 “I know, but I want you to know I come with good news. I haven’t been goofin off I promise. I wouldn’t do ya that way.” You say desperately trying to sway the conversation. “Hear me out, Father. Please.”  You feel a grip on your head that turns soft as Boss speaks “I always liked ya, y/n. You’ve done good for this family so I’ll give ya a chance.” 

You explain yourself and what you have been doing for the past three months. You leave out parts and accentuate others. Your eyes flicker to Mammon who looks scared to death but continue to keep your cold demeanor. “So father, I hope to expand our casinos to the other realm and expand our influence. Consider it insurance for when you pass.” 

“What a load of shit,” Kuroo begins but Boss holds his hand up. “So why do you need mista pretty boy here?” You give your father a promising look. “He’s the sin of greed himself, we need him if we want the money to flow. Plus he can bleed us dry if we don’t let him go.” Your father looks at him with disgust. “This poser? I’m gonna need you to prove it, kid.” You nod. “Give me five minutes with him and I can prove it to ya.” “You have three.” Boss says motioning his underlings to release him. 

You take him to the bathroom and give him a crushing embrace. “I’m so sorry Mammon. I’m so fucking sorry.” Mammon wasn’t even processing what was going around him and pushed you away. “Who? Where? What in the livin hell is going on y/n?” You put your hands on his shoulders “Look we have a minute I need you to change to your demon form and mess up some dudes under my magic.” Mammon looked absolutely baffled.

 “What? No! I don’t wanna expose my form to roosterhead and that old guy. Plus you don’t have magic.” You push him up against the wall and he can’t help being a bit frightened but also other things.  “Listen Mams, they will kill you and me both if you don’t and Solomon gave me some of his.” You lift up a vial and down it immediately. “I need you to do this for me. I promise I’ll explain everything later.” He seems unsure but nods.  

You regain your cold composure and bring him before your father. You nod to Mammon who unleashes his demon form. Your father’s face remains neutral.  “That’s quite some get up he’s got there.” Kuroo laughs at Mammon's wings going up to touch them. “I wouldn’t if I were you. He’ll send you to where he came from.” You say giving Kuroo a cocky stare. 

“If you want a demonstration you can have one, Boss. Kuroo and I have some disputes and I would love to resolve them under your careful eye.” Your father smiles at your bloodlust. “Just leave him in tact.”  You smile with glee. “Mammon, attack him but leave his vitals alone.” 

Mammon couldn’t resist your order and went after him in hand to hand combat. Kuroo was one of the best fighters but against a demon he was a mere human. Mammon slashed him up and knocked him out cold within seconds. Mammon turned to you bloodied with glowing yellow-blue eyes. That’s hot. You knew Mammon was strong but he rarely used his demon strength. To see if fully utilized was like viewing a work of art.

 “You impress me, y/n.” Boss said, staring at Mammon’s wings. “Take care of the devildom or whatever ya call it. I want that place under our control by the time I get there.” You kneel down and nod your head. “Kid, I want ya to take care of my kin here while they’re carrying out my work. Can ya do that for me?” You can tell Mammon was blushing a little under the blood. “Yes I can, sir.” 

(Next to you-bigricepiano)

It was a few hours later and you both finally got to the penthouse exhausted and tense. You collapse falling asleep in each other's arms on the floor until morning. You wake up to the sound of Mammon snoring in your face. So beautifully irritating. You plant a kiss on his lips which causes him to jump up. “Who? What? Where?” He sees your laughing face. “Awww, y/n I was having the weirdest dream that you were a member of the mafia and I was forced ta beat up roosterhead and…” He slowly feels his face. “That wasn’t a dream was it.” 

“I wish it was and yes I know I owe you a lot of explanation but lemme clean you up first.” You say getting a rag and some hydrogen peroxide. You start cleaning his face and explaining your upbringing. Through this, Mammon’s face changed from frustrated to concerned. “I didn’t know you had it so rough, y/n. You never told us.” You smile and dab on his open wound. Mammon winces a little.

“You didn’t need to know. It’s not something I’m really proud of and I know you are all demons so sins don’t bother you as much but even so.” You laugh at your own silliness. “ I wanted to be your saving grace and live a happy life at least for the year we have.” Mammon holds onto your hand and kisses it. “Y/n, you’ve helped us so much.  It’s the least I coulda done for you.” Mammon wraps his arms and legs around you, holding you as if you were going to disappear that very minute. “If..If you had the option to stay with us forever...with me forever, would ya take it?” 

You were taken aback by his question. You loved your father and all the mafia had to offer but it could never measure up to the amount of love you felt from the demons in the short amount of time you’ve been with them. You melt into Mammon’s embrace and try to hold back tears. 

“Absolutely. Without a doubt.” 

Mammon looks at you and takes your face in the palm of his hand, wiping away your ever flowing tears. He kisses you softly, over and over until the tears are gone.

 “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Mammon.” 

Bonus:

“I’m telling ya, y/n is part of the mafia! They beat up so many guys and run all the major casinos.” Mammon pleads at the breakfast table. “That’s absurd. Y/n doesn’t even gamble.” Satan retorts. “Satan’s right now please shut up about this before I string you up.” Lucifer says going through today’s paper. Mammon looks on the verge of tears and shoots you a glance to which you heartily ignore. 

“Aww, well I want it to be true. A mafia y/n sends shivers up my spine. Ne, ne, are you part of the mafia?” Asmo hums. You let out a laugh. “Absolutely not. I don’t know what Mammon’s on today but I wish I had some.”  “You and me both,” Belphie says through his pillow. “It would make a good anime for sure. The whole double agent thing with a princess that has to be saved and it would be called I wanted to save a princess but turned out they were a mafia member and I had to be saved instead. AAH, Beel don’t touch my food.”  Leviathan says pushing Beel off his oatmeal. 

“I told you no one would believe you.” You whisper to Mammon. Mammon just pouts and looks away. You drag your hand up his thigh and he shivers. “Don’t worry, they don’t need to know everything.” 

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

~~Day 2 of Lucy’s testimony

“Ms. Heartfilia, on the night of the kidnapping please start from the moment you got off the train and were walking back towards your apartment building.”

“O-Okay.” Lucy closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. ‘Just tell the truth, let the prosecutor direct her answers...’ She opened her eyes as she began. “We had a system in place, so whenever I was out alone, I would stay on the phone with someone. That night, Natsu was on the other end. He talked and kept me company. I was maybe halfway to the apartment building when I heard something behind me, but before I could turn to see what it was, I felt a hand wrap around my face and a cloth placed over my mouth. I-I screamed, and I heard Touka’s voice, and Natsu screaming over the phone but everything went black as I passed out. It happened really fast.”

“What was the next thing you remember?”

“I woke up in an apartment that I didn’t recognize. I remember being dizzy, my head hurt, and my eyes were all blurry. My... m-my hands and feet were tied up, and I was lying on my side on the floor.” Lucy stopped again to take another deep breath before continuing. “That’s when I heard noises like drawers opening and closing. I couldn’t see where it was coming from at first, but I guess my mind told me it must be Touka. So, my survival instincts kicked in at that moment. I stayed still, pretending to be asleep, but I cracked my eyes open to see what I could.”

“And what could you see?”

“I s-saw, like a couch, and a wall, and it was covered with photographs of Natsu— just completely covered. And I could see there was all kinds of them, close ups, far shots, old stuff, new ones, clippings... but they weren’t just Natsu. I could see a lot of me and our friends too, and that really creeped me out cause I knew she was watching us, but just, you know, to see it— that was really hard. I tried so hard to stay focused on what was happening. I just kept thinking, I’ve gotta find a way out of there.”

Lucy took the jury through that night, step, by step just as she’d been coached by the prosecutor. The closer she got to the main event, the slower she moved through each detail. They covered all the visuals she saw from her vantage point, inching their way to the moment Touka had begun her physical assault. Lucy’s hands sat in her lap, but they constantly opened and closed into fists to disburse the building anxieties in a physical way. It was a technique her therapist had shown her specifically to use during the trial. Thank goodness for all the preparations by her therapist, because recalling these memories were to re-live them and that was all extremely difficult.

“You testified that Ms. Shiromajyo did not know you were already awake. So, how did she wake you up?”

Lucy took a deep breath knowing this was the hardest part, but the prosecutor needed her to tell the tale. “She kicked me really hard in the back which made me roll over to try and defend, but before I could she stomped me in the stomach, and just kept kicking me over and over...” Lucy’s body trembled as she relieved the event in her mind. ��I-I couldn’t do much because I was tied up tightly, so I kept rolling to the side and curling up in a ball. I didn’t wanna scream, because... b-because I thought that’s what she wanted to hear, and I wasn’t gonna give her that satisfaction. But I think it only made her angrier.”

“Was she saying anything through this attack?”

“Y-Yes...” Lucy’s voice cracked. “S-She was calling me a slut and a bitch and blamed me for the pain she was feeling. Said if only I’d walked away like she’d warned me to, I wouldn’t be in this situation. So, I snapped back that hurting me wouldn’t make Natsu love her. That killing me...” Lucy sucked in a breath, “wasn’t worth going to jail over. I thought— that maybe if I try to reason with her, get her to see this wouldn’t change anything, she’d stop, but— it didn’t faze her.” Lucy shivered at how cold Touka’s eyes had been at the moment. “She said, “if I can’t have him, neither will you.” That, “don’t you think I know that?” But she didn’t care. This woman was going to kill me, and she said it with a straight face. That’s when I knew she was serious, and I started preparing myself to die.”

Eventually, Lucy couldn’t even look in Natsu’s direction. She could see the utter turmoil on his face, and it only added to her anxiety. So, instead, she looked at the jury members themselves. That was another tactic the prosecutor instructed Lucy to do. ‘Talk to them,’ he’d explained. ‘Think of this as your opportunity to tell your story. Let them see all the emotions you were feeling then, or feeling now, because they need to know how much Touka’s actions have affected you.’ So, that’s what Lucy did her best to do, scanning just above their heads. She still couldn’t make eye contact because just like Natsu, listening to her story brought a lot of pain to many of their faces.

With tears trickling down, Lucy continued giving a blow by blow account leading up to Natsu’s arrival, and what happened before the authorities arrived. How she got the cut on her neck and other injuries, and how they were fighting against Touka as hard as they could. Tears trickled slowly down her cheeks as she spoke, but she didn’t stop talking. She told them how Natsu begged Touka to leave her alone, even willing to give up his life for it, but once Natsu admitted that he loved her, that really set Touka off. “That— T-That not how I wanted to find out he loved me!” Lucy screamed through the tears. “That’s not how anyone should find that out! And she took that beautiful thing away from me!” Lucy slumped in her chair, trying to stop the heavy sobs wracking her body. Saying it out loud, the anger was seething inside of her because she hadn’t expected to have this reaction. Maybe she’d buried it for far too long?

“Ms. Heartfilia, do you need a break?”

“N-No,” she wiped away the sloppy tears. “I can finish this. I-I need to keep going.”

“Take a moment to compose yourself,” the judge explained, “then continue.”

Lucy nodded to the judge in acknowledgment, then after a long deep exhale, continued to tell the jury how she’d watched as Natsu defended her and what was going through her mind as she saw him stabbed. “All the blood...” she whimpered, fighting the urge to bawl again. “There was so much blood from Natsu’s injuries. I started freaking out because I didn’t wanna die and I didn’t wanna watch my boyfriend killed! So, I-I grabbed the closest object which was a hardcover book— her school yearbook and just started swinging as hard as I could despite my wrists being tied. I was just running on adrenaline at the point knowing it had to be either her or us, and I’m sorry, but I did not want to die.”

At that stage of the testimony, Lucy took the jury through the police’s arrival from her perspective. What she’d observed, and how they finished subduing Touka. “Once they took her into custody, I think I was just in shock. Frankly, I don’t even know how I managed to stay focused through the whole ordeal, I just remember thinking if this woman was gonna kill me, I’d make it as difficult as possible.” Finally, Lucy covered the timeline for the jury between the scene and going to the hospital for treatment, including the panic attack and his she had to be sedated.

“And how has this affected you since the incident?”

“Objection! Leading! This has no relevance to the case!” The defense attorney argued to the judge. “The witnesses state of mind after the fact could be contributed to multiple factors and there’s no way to attribute it solely to my client or the events revolves around my client.”

The prosecutor countered, arguing that Lucy’s continued reactions to the events over the ensuing months was relevant to the case.

But the judge only ruled partially in the States favor. “Re-word you question counselor to the event itself.”

“Ms. Heartfilia, please provide any specific factors you’ve suffered relating to your experiences with Ms. Shiromajyo.”

“W-Well, my panic attacks and nightmares are because of what happened. I keep seeing and reliving things like a movie replaying in my mind. Especially the attack, I literally wake up screaming because of bloody dreams, and this causes me problems, like I don’t get enough sleep, I couldn’t focus on school. Just the fear of leaving my apartment has kept me from doing anything really for months. I’m scared of being kidnapped, even though logically I know Touka is in jail, it doesn’t just make those feelings go away. I wish it did— Heaven help me, I wish it would just go away, but it doesn’t.”

“So, you still fear Ms. Shiromajyo?”

Lucy stiffened and nodded her head vehemently as she shrunk down in the chair. “Yes.”

“Thank you, no further questions at this time. We reserve the right to recall the witness.”

“Cross?” The judge asked the defense, to which they also responded with reserve the right to recall. “Then Ms. Heartfilia, you may leave the stand, but be available in case of being recalled.”

Lucy nodded quietly at the judge, then slipped out of the courtroom. The bailiff lead her to a back room, along with her therapist so she couldn’t hear what was going on. Once in the safety of the room, she broke down. All the emotions she’d tampered down to get through the testimony, rushed out. She’d shed tears during her testimony, but now she was free to sob openly.

“You did great,” the therapist cooed, soothing the young woman. She tightened her hug, “that’s good, just let it all out.”

A knock at the door came, as Natsu and Levy were allowed inside. Natsu immediately went to his girlfriend and took over for the therapist. “Shh,” he spoke softly and smoothed his hand against her hair. “You did amazing babe!”

“Lu, you did great up there! We’re really proud of you!”

“Thanks, guys,” Lucy sniffled into Natsu’s chest. She was proud of getting through it without having a break down, but the nagging knowledge of this wasn’t over yet, still loomed large. The defense was surely going to recall her at some stage, and even if the attorney didn’t, the prosecutor could, plus just the waiting sucked! “Can we please go home? I-I just wanna go home.”

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 20: Not in Kansas Anymore (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Day twenty: “Toto, I have a feeling we’re Not in Kansas Anymore”

Prompts used: Lost, Field medecine 

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Golden Wind) 

Mista whump today! (And Dadbbacchio)

If you guys have been enjoying my stories, you can support me on Ko-fi ^_^

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

Abbacchio stared at the 'no signal' symbol on his mobile phone and snapped it shut with a curse, refraining from throwing it into the woods for all the good it was.

He and Mista had gone on what was supposed to be a simple mission. Stop two drug dealers who were working out of an old hunting cabin in the woods. Unfortunately, what they uncovered was just part of a larger operation who would probably soon be finding out something was wrong and getting out of the city. He had to call Bucciarati to warn him about it, but there was no signal.

Worse, they had followed one of the dealers to their hideout and were deep in the woods, with no memory of the way out.

Even worse than that, Mista had gotten shot.

Abbacchio glanced over at his companion. The young man was leaning up against a tree, breathing heavily, a hand pressed to his still badly bleeding stomach. His knees were shaking, looking like he was going to fall over any minute.

Abbacchio gritted his teeth. He had to get Mista out of here, back to the golden brat so he could get fixed up, but it looked like that wasn't going to be happening any time soon.

"Nothing?" Mista asked breathlessly.

"No," Abbacchio growled. "But I should be able to use Moody Blues to retrace our steps out of here." He called his Stand out as he spoke and had him rewind about half an hour.

Mista nodded and pushed off of the tree with a grunt, taking a couple steps before he let out a strangled groan, and collapsed pretty heavily to his knees.

"Kid?" Abbacchio asked cautiously. "You gonna make it?"

Mista bit his lip and somehow pushed himself up again, Abbacchio lending him a hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gotta…gotta breathe through it."

Abbacchio glanced at the blood that was seeping from beneath Mista's hand, soaking into his pants. He wrapped an arm around Mista's back as Moody Blues finished the rewind and took Abbacchio's form.

"Alright, hopefully this will work," Abbacchio grunted as they started off.

They'd only been walking for a couple minutes before Mista got way too heavy against Abbacchio's side and stopped, doubling over.

"Abbacchio…I—I gotta stop. I can't keep going anymore…"

Abbacchio paused Moody Blues and looked at the timer. It was probably another fifteen minutes to the road.

Blood was flowing freely from between Mista's fingers. He was losing way too much blood, and Abbacchio didn't think he had fifteen minutes if they didn't try to do something about his wound.

"Look, just leave me here. Get back to the car; call Bucciarati at least."

Abbacchio thought about it for a second, but shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving you out here. There were only two of them out here, but we don't know if more will show up." He glanced at Moody Blues again as the Stand watched him curiously, then back at Mista. "Look, it's only a few minutes back to the cabin. They might have some medical supplies. You think you can at least make it back there?"

"I—I'll try," Mista croaked, and Abbacchio got a firmer hold on him and practically carried him in the opposite direction, recalling Moody Blues again.

The trip back to the cabin wasn't easy. Mista really was suffering and as hard and gruff as Abbacchio might be on the outside, he hating seeing the kids in pain. His kids. He might find Giorno annoying, but he would give anything to have the golden brat here now so he could heal Mista.

Now he was going to have to do it the old-fashioned way.

They made it back to the cabin and Abbacchio kicked in the door. The two bodies were lying out back where they'd made their final stand, but the place was a mess. Abbacchio cringed as he dragged Mista to the back and lowered him as carefully as possible onto a dirty cot. He supposed it was better than nothing.

"I'm sorry 'bout this," Mista whispered weakly.

Abbacchio cursed and crouched. "It's fine. It's not your fault. Let me look at it?"

Mista swallowed hard and carefully peeled his shaky hand away from his wound.

Abbacchio grabbed his wrist to help, and his eyes widened at how much blood started to flow from the bullet wound.

"We need to slow the bleeding before I can even try to do anything with this," he said, and grabbed Mista's hat off his head.

"Hey!" the younger man protested then cried out in pain as Abbacchio pressed it to his wound. He winced. He was sure the hat wasn't clean enough for this, but they didn't have a lot of options. It was better than the grimy blanket from the cot. At least it was Mista's sweat on the hat.

"Keep pressure on this while I see if I can grab some stuff."

He looked around the cabin swiftly and saw a small camp stove which he quickly turned on with a pan of water, then found half a bottle of liquor. He licked his lips. He wished he could justify drinking it, but it would be better as a disinfectant.

Not surprisingly, there were no bandages, but Abbacchio was prepared to rip his coat up if he needed to. No needle and thread either. Abbacchio pursed his lips. This wasn't going to be fun.

He found a lighter, and with that and the hot water, he came over to the cot again, where Mista was weakly trying to put pressure on his injury.

"Find anything good?" he asked.

Abbacchio set the stuff out on the floor and pulled a knife from his pocket. He pulled the tail of his coat around and cut into it before ripping off a good hunk, dipping part of it into the scalding water.

He pressed his lips together. "Well, considering how bad you're bleeding, and since we don't have a lot of options, I'm probably going to need to cauterize the wound."

"Are you freaking kidding me?"

Abbacchio raised his hands. "I don't want to do it either, but it's either that or bleed out. Besides, you're the one who let Fugo fix you up with staples and duct tape once."

Mista winced and paled impossibly further. Abbacchio didn't blame him. It wasn't going to be pleasant. But at least Mista would probably only have to deal with this until they got back to the headquarters and Giorno could heal him properly.

"But first," Abbacchio sighed. "We're gonna have to get that bullet out."

Mista's breath caught in his throat. "How?"

Abbacchio looked down at the knife. "Don't have a lot of options."

Mista's eyes widened and his lip trembled. "Seriously?"

"Mista, come on, this wasn't a through-and-through. If we have to walk back, that bullet needs to come out or there might be more damage."

He swallowed hard, and thunked his head back against the bed. "Okay. Do what you gotta."

Abbacchio bit his lip and nodded. He reached out to pull Mista's hand away from his wound again, and used the scalding rag to clean the blood from his skin. Mista flinched, shifting slightly.

"Easy," Abbacchio murmured. He finished, pulling the rag away and prodding the wound, pulling a soft cry from Mista's throat.

"I'm going to work on getting the bullet out now. Just try to relax."

"Are you freakin' kidding right now?" Mista gasped.

"It'll make it easier if you relax," Abbacchio growled and picked up the lighter he'd found, running his knife through the flame.

"A-Abba…" Mista murmured, blinking up at him. His dark eyes were clouded and dull from the pain. "If I die here…"

"You're not gonna die here, idiota," Abbacchio told him firmly. Mostly, if he were being honest, for his own benefit. He was really no skilled surgeon at all. The little he had learned had been on the job, and in places and situations similar to this. The fact was, they'd gotten lazy with Giorno around. Too dependent on his healing abilities. So, when things like this happened, they seemed like the end of the world.

The knife cooled, and Abbacchio took a deep breath. He couldn't put this off another minute.

"Okay," he said and pushed Mista's sweater further out of the way before inserting the knife into the bullet wound.

Mista instantly tensed up, crying out, and grasping the edges of the cot. "Merda!" he gasped.

"Hey, I said easy," Abbacchio told him, pressing his free hand to Mista's chest, trying to keep him still, leaning his elbow against Mista's thigh. "If you don't stay still I might damage something. Don't make me tie you down."

Mista squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his nose, hands clenched around the sides of the cot until his knuckles whitened. "O-okay. Do it."

Abbacchio took his blessing and shifting the knife in the wound carefully, trying to find the bullet.

Mista let out a strangled cry, twitching, tears leaking out from under his closed eyes. Abbacchio tried to ignore it. Get the bullet out. That's what he needed to do. Don't think about who it was. That it was one of his kids…

The knife struck something metallic and he huffed a sigh of relief. "Almost got it," he said. He twisted the knife and Mista screamed, but the bullet came up and he forced it back through the hole, snagging it and tossing it aside.

Mista whimpered, eyes fluttering as his head lolled to one side.

"Hey," Abbacchio snapped, reaching out to pat Mista's cheek briskly. "Stay with me right now, okay?"

"S'rry," Mista murmured.

Abbacchio was getting more worried. Mista was shivering now, and it wasn't that cold out here. He was probably going into shock too, along with everything else. Abbacchio would have to work fast. He pressed the cloth back over the wound, stopping the fresh flow of blood that was trickling over Mista' side.

"Just a little more. I need to close it." He reached for the bottle of liquor, and yanked the cork out with his teeth.

Mista's eyes fluttered. "Bruno's gonna be mad."

"Shut up, stronzo. This is for you," Abbacchio growled and removed the cloth, pouring the liquor liberally over the wound.

Mista howled. He curled up onto his side as Abbacchio hurriedly pressed the cloth back against the wound and gripped Mista's shoulder.

"Mista! Hey," he said, rubbing his shoulder before moving to the back of his neck, trying to get the boy to relax. "You need to lie flat. Come on. Let's get this over with."

Mista shook his head, tears streaming out of his eyes. "Oh god, it hurts," he whimpered.

Abbacchio bit his cheek to bleeding as he cupped Mista's face gently, running his thumb through the tears. "Hey, easy. You're gonna get through this. Hear me? We just gotten get this closed up, and get back to the road so we can get you home for Giorno to heal up, okay? Just gotta keep you from bleeding out until then."

Mista took several gasping breaths before he calmed slightly, and Abbacchio ran a hand through his short hair before gently pushing him flat.

He took his knife up again, and flicked the lighter on, waiting until the blade got hot.

He glanced at Mista, barely conscious and pressed his lips into a thin line.

He stood and swung one leg over the cot before sitting on Mista's legs, his other hand pressing firmly into his chest to keep him as still as possible. It wouldn't do for him to flail right now.

"W-what are you doing?" Mista murmured.

"Just a little more, then we're done," Abbacchio told him and unceremoniously pressed the blade to the wound.

Mista screamed, and bucked under him but Abbacchio sealed the wound, choking on the smell of burning flesh, then pulled the knife away.

Mista was limp underneath of him now and he swiftly got off the younger man and crouched, cupping his face between his hands and peeling up one eyelid.

"Mista?" he asked.

No reply.

Abbacchio cursed, and turned to ripping up the rest of his coat tail, making bandages, which he tied around Mista's middle and then simply got his arms under Mista and hefted him up with a grunt.

Mista was not small and light like Narancia or Giorno, but Abbacchio would carry him anyway.

"Moody Blues," he said, and his Stand reappeared. "Resume the replay."

He followed his Stand to the road with his precious burden, and didn't just find the car he'd come in, but another.

"Abbacchio!" Fugo's voice called and Abbacchio looked up to see him and Giorno rushing toward them

"What happened?" Giorno demanded.

"He got shot, but the dealers are dead," Abbacchio said tersely, hefting Mista into the back of the car before climbing in and resting the boy's head on his lap. "Can you heal him?"

"Of course," Giorno replied, instantly falling into action.

Abbacchio sighed in relief, watching Giorno's Stand heal Mista as Fugo called, presumably Bucciarati, to tell him they had been found.

On the car ride back, Mista groaned and opened his eyes, staring up at Abbacchio.

"Hey…" he croaked. "What happened?"

"Giorno and Fugo came looking for us," Abbacchio told him, squeezing his shoulder unconsciously. "How do you feel now? Giorno healed you."

Mista carefully sat up and pressed a hand to his stomach. "Better. Little sore." He glanced back over at Abbacchio. "Thanks. For what you did."

"I'm sorry I had to, kid," Abbacchio said sincerely.

"You still saved my life," Mista said with a small smile. "I won't hold the method against you."

Abbacchio snorted, but reached out and ruffled Mista's hair. The young man ducked with a growl.

"You do owe me a new hat though."

"I think I could manage that," Abbacchio replied.

[miraithislife]

Miraith Part 3 <3 (little long oop)

“Did you...ever have a family...?” She asked in a soft, curious voice. Wraith had been nestled warmly by the fireplace in Mirage’s private condo. It was filled with pictures, collectibles, and posters of him, of course, along with all of his trophies and medals from the Games, fan mail, fan art, comics, and practically anything else related to him. 

“My family?” Mirage repeated in surprise, not really expecting her to ask that of him. He was in the kitchen, making them both some warm mugs of hot chocolate to treat the increasingly bitter cold from which they’d just sought refuge. “Well, yea. I have a family. I’m the youngest of four. Four boys. Had to screw around to get attention, you know.” 

Wraith scoffed, “Bet that wasn’t hard for you to do.” She brought the blanket (with a full length Mirage printed onto it) more snugly around her shoulders, having replaced Mirage’s coat, which was hung neatly in the closet by the front door. 

Mirage grinned, “Nope.” He laughed. “We were definitely a handful for our parents.”  

Wraith bit her lip embarrassedly and looked to the crackling flames when realizing she had no idea what those were. She knew everyone had them, she’d heard the term before. Something about it was vaguely familiar. She wanted to ask, but the words stopped in her throat. Would she sound weird for asking such a ridiculous thing? 

What would he think of her if she did? 

What if he thought she was joking?

What would he think when realizing she was being serious?

A pit grew in Wraith’s stomach as her anxieties grew, and she began to get a headache from overthinking. 

It’s Mirage. He’ll understand. She self-consoled. 

Wraith took a breath and asked (after conjuring up the bravery) in a voice soft as silk, “What are parents?” 

Mirage looked over at her. The look in her eyes told him she was being genuine and serious. “Uh,” he began, not wanting his surprise or delay in response to come off judgemental or make her feel bad. “Well...parents are the people who take care of you. Claim you as your own, cause, uh. They gave birth to you? Well no your mom does that part...the dad just--ahem.” He shrugged. “Yea they take care of and love you, basically. Raise ya. All that fun stuff.” He picked out two mugs from the cupboard.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She thought.

Did she ever have parents...? She wondered.

“You have parents?” She asked.

“Well, yea.” Mirage replied, setting them on the countertop and closing the cupboard. “Everyone has parents, right?” 

Wraith solemnly averted her gaze to her hands, saying quietly. “Right.” 

Mirage winced. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean--” 

“It’s alright.” She said, rather shortly. 

Mirage rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I mean, not everyone has parents.” He said in an attempt to make it better. He shrugged and said in a tone to play it off, “Besides, it’s not like having parents make you cool or anything.” He removed the pitcher from the stove once the water’d heated to the perfect temperature. 

“At least not mine, heh. I mean, what kind of parents tell you you were an accident baby and try to sell you online?” He began pouring the water into each of the mugs, “OnLINE.” He stressed. “And for FREE?” He passionately continued, still holding the steaming pitcher, waving it along with his animated hand gestures and story retelling. Wraith raised the blanket to her mouth, she couldn’t help but softly giggle at his increasing annoyance as he recalled the memory. 

Mirage was too enraged to notice her adorable little laugh. “I mean, hell. Like okay, I was an accident and you wanna sell me, but for free?” He gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me, I’m amazing! I’m handsome, I’m smart, I’ve got fans--I’ve gotta be worth a nice rack of pork chops at the very least. And I was the cutest little thing, too.” Mirage set the pitcher down, crossing his arms and leaning against the refrigerator. He shook his head, confused as to why he was so unwanted, “I had chubby cheeks...I had curls…”

“What were your parents like?” Wraith asked. “Aside from wanting to sell you, of course.” 

“My mom was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. She was great.” Mirage began, the selling incident instantly leaving his mind. He stood and resumed finishing the hot chocolate, adding the cocoa powder. “She was crazy smart. My mother was an engineer. She’d make things, design things, build things, break a few things.” He laughed. “That was always funny.” He laughed again. “She makes me, well, me.” He said, raising his arms to bask in his glory. “Mirage.” 

He plopped a couple marshmallows into each of the mugs. Carefully, he carried the mugs to the living room and set them on the glass coffee table. He moved the gold and red accent pillows on his sleek dark gray couch to allow himself a seat next to Wraith. “She introduced me to illusion-creating tech. And...well, long story short I got obsessed and addicted, went to school and learned about mechanisms and doohickeys and whatchamacallits, and, well, yea, here I am.” He handed her her mug first. 

“Then we made some pretty cool stuff together. My favorites were all the holo tech, I mean come on look at this baby.” He said proudly with a smug look on his face, gesturing to his outfit. “Worked at the bar for who knows how long, heard about the Games and wanted to join, sounded pretty fun. But I didn’t want to leave my mother alone, you know, since everyone else was gone.” His face fell. 

“Until one day she came up to me after a long day of work and gave me a set of customized holo devices and told me to follow my dream.” He looked at her and smiled. “So, I did. And I promised to give her some money to help her get out of some long overdue debts and out of the slums and dirt we’d always lived in. I can finally say I’ve helped make her happy, now. I make sure she’s taken care of before going off to compete, cause you know, never know if that’s my last time seeing her.”

Wraith failed to suppress the warmth that washed over heart. “She sounds amazing.” She took the mug graciously. “Thank you.” 

Mirage smiled, “Yea, she really is. Everything I do now in the Games is for her.”

Wraith couldn’t help but feel her heart warm her chest. She’d always seen Mirage as silly and rather self-centered, but it turned out, to her pleasant surprise, that there were things that truly mattered to him more than just women, fans, or having the spotlight on him. “She’s lucky to have such a great son like you. I’m sure you two have always been really close.” 

Mirage blushed at her compliment, “Thank you.” He wrinkled his nose and shrugged, “Nah, not always. We didn’t really get along that well at first (which was entirely my fault), and we kinda just bonded after my three older brothers died in the Frontier War, so all she had was me by default.” He laughed wryly. “But honestly with the engineering thing, it helped make it work. Now I can’t imagine life without her.” He took a sip from his hot chocolate, only then realizing Wraith hadn’t. 

“Don’t like hot chocolate?” He asked.

“Oh, no, that’s not it.” she replied. “I’ve just never had it.” Her eyes didn’t move from the chocolate tainted white blobs floating in her mug. “What are those?”

Mirage scoffed, “What are those? Only the best things ever!” 

Wraith smiled, “What are they?”

“Marshmallows. Soft, squishy, sweet thingamajigs...I don’t really know what they are, but they make everything a million times better. Especially in hot chocolate.” Mirage replied. “Try it.” 

Wraith looked at him, then back to her mug. Slowly, she curled her full, rounded lips, silently blowing away the steam that arose from the mug, watching it dissipate into the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled the heavenly, chocolatey aroma, exhaling a soft hum of content. Mirage, adorably, watched her place the mug’s rim to her mouth, but couldn’t keep his eyes off her beautifully shaped lips. Keeping her eyes closed, she took a sip. She sighed through her nose in content as the soothing warmth made its way down her throat and through her body, reveling in the cocoa’s richness and the marshmallow’s delicately sweet touch. 

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes and met his. Her heart skipped a beat. The look in his eyes scared her. But...in a good way. There was no doubt he was in total awe and completely enamored of her existence. Mirage couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wanted to, and the throbbing in his chest that burned so fiercely out of love, longing, and desire began to grow to a point at which he couldn’t control or suppress for much longer. 

Her heart raced. 

There was so much she wanted to tell him. 

So much he needed to know. 

So much she wished she had the strength to tell him.

So much she wanted to share with him...in every way possible. 

A blush touching her cheeks, she smiled warmly. “It’s delicious.” 

Mirage beamed. “I’m glad you think so. And that looks good on you, by the way.”

Wraith slightly furrowed her brow, “What does?”

Mirage replied dreamily, “That smile.”

Wraith quickly averted her gaze as her blush deepened, she cleared her throat in attempt to change the subject, “What about your fath--” 

Mirage’s mood changed quickly. “My dad was an absolute scumbag. Was never there. Hit and cheated on my mom. Abused and overworked us boys. Cursed us out. Destroyed the house. Kept us poor and put us down. Drank his life away and took his problems out on us. List goes on and on.” He said with a wave of his hand. 

“Disappeared one day and never came back. Left us dirt poor and starving and took everything my mom owned to sell for money but you know, it was prolla-prabob-parlabol--” He threw his hands up in frustration. “WORDS.” He hastily stood up and made his way to the wall, punching it vehemently. He grabbed his wrist and gasped sharply in pain. He kicked the wall in frustration and sat on the side of his bed, facing the wall. “His leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” He ended in spite, fiddling with the straps on his glove. 

Wraith didn’t know what to think.

She had never seen him like this before.

The saddened and angry little boy inside of him was waking up, and she knew that feeling all too well. To feel trapped. To have emotions suppressed and not worked through. To feel resentment and revenge. To want answers. To want to just know why. 

Without a sound, she arose from the cushions and to his side, the bed bouncing a little as she sat. Mirage’s body swayed a little from the movement, his head hung low. Wraith reassuringly laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mirage. I know that must’ve been very hard for you...to not have someone there when you needed them most, let alone cause so much pain...and to not understand why.” 

Her hand gently turned his face to hers, and the look on his face nearly broke her heart. His face fell, his head hung low, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. Angry tears pricked his eyes, and several had begun to make their way down his cheeks. 

Wraith continued, gently cupping his face with her hands and using her thumbs to wipe away his tears, “To have things happen out of your control and suffer from it. Whether it’s you or loved ones. Then you question what you did wrong and what you should’ve done right, as if it’s your fault...taking on that burden.” She lifted his face so their eyes met, and with a gentle motion, she brushed his hair from his face and behind his ear, then caressing his cheek in the same manner he had to her earlier. “But that doesn’t make you wrong in how you feel. Your emotions are valid. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be angry. Just don’t let them define or change who you are.” She smiled. 

Mirage stared at her, speechless.

How did she know what to say? And how to say it? So elegantly and well put?

“That’s...exactly how I feel, Wraith.” Mirage said. He never doubted her past experiences, but the level to which they could relate was so touching it made his heart feel so much lighter. He now knew, finally, at 30 years old, that he wasn’t alone.

Wraith scoffed through a soft laugh. “Well, I know a thing or two about loss and pain.” 

Mirage gently took her hands from his face and cherished them in his, pressing his lips to her knuckles several times, not breaking eye contact. “Well, you’re not alone anymore.”

[savannahsdrabbles]

Ocean Song - Part One

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: An AU originally based off of the 2012 TMNT universe, but can be compatible with most versions of the characters. <3 2.7k words. A03 link can be found here. Also special thanks to @cloakedrabbit and @starfiretheninja for beta-reading!

Looking back on the past couple of days’ events, April should have realized that kidnapping an endangered creature was a bad idea.

Well, scratch that.

Maybe attempting to break into a high security laboratory was where she went wrong. Or –

“This is totally wicked!” Casey Jones hollered from the driver’s seat as they took another sharp turn, tires spinning and spitting gravel up into the windshield wipers that were already working overtime. The creature in the backseat squawked and flailed as he skidded across the torn upholstery, desperately trying to sink his claws into something to keep from being thrown about like a rag doll.

“Slow down – and calm down!” The red-head snapped first towards the driver, and then over her shoulder at their passenger as she rapidly typed away on her laptop. A large jolt suddenly rocked the Jeep to one side and then the other, and April threw her arms out as a scream escaped her mouth. “CASEY! BRIDGE!”

Okay. So there were a lot of things that went wrong.

***

“Here we are!” A voice called loudly, causing April to jerk her head up and nearly lose an earbud in the process. “Now I know you’ve told me before, but remind me – what class is this project for? I don’t recall having to do anything like this until I’d reached graduate school.”

April smiled as she rose from her seat and shouldered an air tank onto her back. She carefully pulled the earbuds from her ears and tucked them into the bag of dry clothes she’d brought, then paused to looked out across the ocean. The sky was overcast that afternoon, leaving glare so minimal that even as the boat chugged to a stop beneath them, she was almost certain she could spy movement in the water below. “It’s for a dual-credit course. My science instructor knows that Dad is stationed here and that I study under him, so he said that I could use some of my research work as a science credit.”

“My word,” The fourty-something Japanese man at the stern shook his head in amusement as he pulled a lever to lower the anchor. The ship responded with a groan, lurching slightly at the movement, and the air was soon filled with a steady clack-clack-clack as chains were steadily released into the depths. “I swear, April – you work more than most kids your age. It’s a wonder you even have time to consider college courses. And you’re only – what – sixteen?”

“Seventeen as of last month,” April shrugged lightly and fought back an amused eyeroll as she continued to adjust her gear and flippers. Once she was certain they were secure, the girl reached for her camera and looped the strap over her wrist. She’d known Miles for a few months at this point and was pretty sure that they’d had this exact conversation every time they spoke. Her dad joked that his memory retention was about as long as that of the goldfishthat he studied. “Thankfully most of the college stuff is online, so I don’t have to worry about dealing with all of the paperwork from moving between schools. So it’s not too bad.”  

“Ah. Well then, I won’t keep you from your schoolwork any longer.” Miles tapped his wrist and jerked his chin towards the cloudy sky before moving towards the stairs that led below deck. Typically the rule was to never dive alone, but… “Remember, one hour tops, and then I have to check the boat back in for the evening – no exceptions.”  

“I know, I know – see you in a bit!” Positioning herself on the side of the boat, April fitted the mouthpiece from her tank into place, flashed an okay sign, and then pushed herself backwards into the rolling waves.

***

No matter how many times she dove, April could never not be amazed by the sheer beauty of the sea.She often wondered if she’d feel the same had her dad chosen a different line of work, but she ultimately pushed those thoughts aside and chose to simply be grateful that she’d always had the opportunity to live near open water. It was, after all, one of the only consistent things in her life.

She couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times that she had moved in her short life. Once or twice a year, her dad was reassigned to a new zoo or university and that meant uprooting everything and moving to the next body of water. Everywhere from Florida to Quebec to now Osaka – a large port city in Japan – had served as a temporary place of residence to April, her father, and the rest of the research team.

“Don’t worry, Pumpkin,” Kirby O’Neil had smiled at April over his mug of hot chocolate – a relocation announcement tradition in the O’Neil household. April remembered scowling into her own mug in response. “I spoke to the Board, and they’re willing to keep us in Osaka at least until you’ve graduated from high school. That way you can finish out your diploma in one place!”.

Five months later and the Board – a maniacal creature seemingly dedicated to repositioning its prisoners at random – had remained true to its word. April had quickly settled into the Japanese immersion class at her high school and was actually doing quite well in the school environment – enough so that the headmaster had paired her with another immersion student to help tutor him in math.

Casey Jones was an up-and-coming hockey player, the oldest child of the English Foreign Language teacher, and a big pain in the butt. Even though he was scheduled to graduate later that year, Casey seemed bound and determined to fail all of his classes – meaning that he and April spent more than the intended amount of time studying and hanging out together.

“It’s just you and me against Japan, Red,” Casey often joked as he would flash her a gap-toothed grin. “Us immigrants gotta stick together.”

If not for his cocky attitude and constant flirting, April might have thought that he was cute.

Might.

April gave a few kicks as she allowed thoughts of school to drift away and happily rolled in the cool water. Several silver fish darted out of her way as she sank lazily past, raising her camera in time to capture a couple of photos. Her blue eyes widened in awe as a class of clownfish and several jellyfish followed, and she rapidly snapped several pictures before they could float out of range. The water grew rapidly colder and darker with every few feet, aided by the clouds that were constantly drifting in front of the sun. Minutes slowly ticked away as her distance from the bobbing boat lengthened until it was no more than a misshapen shadow on the surface of the water above.

Thick, twisted chunks of orange and pink coral and a forest of seaweed eventually began to rise up around her, and she paused in the shadow of a particularly large structure to glance at the time on her camera screen – only twenty minutes left before she had to head for the surface. Yikes – that didn’t leave very long to get more decent shots.

She furrowed her brow in thought – maybe she could convince Miles or another research assistant to bring her out again tomorrow -?

Suddenly, a burst of movement out of the corner of her eye grabbed April’s attention and sent her reeling backwards against the coral. Hundreds of tiny fish blew past her in a frantic, unorganized mass, the undertow tearing at the surrounding seaweed and adding to the chaos and confusion. Before she could right herself, a much larger form shot after the fish, closely followed by another of similar size. The masses cut through the water without a glance in her direction, clearly intent on their prey and unaware that they had been seen.

April gasped as she righted herself and stared at the large, rapidly moving shapes that were quickly disappearing into the distance – what the heck had she just seen? For a moment she wanted to brush it off as simply two seals hunting dinner, but something made her hesitate. Something was off.

Heart pounding, she slowly peeled herself off of the coral wall and ducked into the thick seaweed. Once she was sure that she wouldn’t be spotted, April raised her camera and aimed it at the creatures. By now they were far enough away that the camera wouldn’t focus, but this confirmed what she’d thought she’d seen. Those were not the usual side to side movements that most fish travelled by, or even an up and down motion like dolphins or seals would use – these things had arms and legs that they were kicking like human beings.

Still not acknowledging April’s presence, the two creatures suddenly split up and each silently moved to one side of the school of fish. They then began to duck and weave, almost dancing with each other as they continued to direct the fish into a tighter and more condensed mass.

The numbers on April’s camera screen blinked a warning, reminding her that she only had a few more minutes before she needed to head to the surface, but she shoved the thought aside. She had to get closer.

With one hand firmly clutching her camera, April pushed off of the coral and began to propel herself through the clinging seaweed. The creatures had already put several dozen yards between herself and them, but appeared to be slowing as they closed in on their prey.

Moving through the dense seaweed was more difficult than her targets had made it look, however. The girl grimaced as her limbs repeatedly got tangled in thick pieces of the plant, slowing her motion until she tore them loose. She was almost to the edge of the seaweed when the bigger of the two let out a sharp clicking noise, causing April to freeze in place.

Before she could determine what was happening, a net appeared between the two beings and they cast it across the fish. The smaller creature then reached for a long strand of seaweed that had been wrapped around his forearm and tied the bag shut, thoroughly trapping their dinner. He squealed and clicked in pride, sounding like a dolphin that had just performed a trick and was now expecting a treat. The larger creature chirped in response and reached out to pat the smaller one on the head.

April kicked forward, mind reeling as she struggled to comprehend what she was witnessing, when a thick piece of seaweed tangled itself around her thigh and brought her chase to a stop. The sudden change in momentum caught her off guard, and April flailed her arms around in surprise – only for her camera to slip from her grasp. The small device, now free of anything weighing it down, rocketed towards the surface as the girl let out an exasperated string of curses that were only just masked by her mouthpiece.

Eyes straining to not lose the creatures amidst the bubbles that had stirred up around her, April violently jerked her leg to snap the seaweed. When the clinging inhibitor only seemed to tighten in response, she let out a huff of frustration and reached down to quickly untangle her leg. What met her fingertips, however, was not part of the slimy plants that surrounded her.

The girl let out a muffled stream of bubbles as she twisted around and gasped sharply. The dark tentacle around her leg tightened in response, and several more shot out from the shifting forest to pull at her arms and hair. April instinctively reached for the emergency knife on her belt, but the massive squid let out a fierce grumble as its tentacles tightened around her arms and pinned them to her sides. April’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she struggled fruitlessly and let out a garbled yell of panic.

Had she been diving with a team, the others would have stepped in at this moment to help her get away. But now here she was, alone and trapped with her only hope nearly twenty minutes away from even beginning to question where she was.

Am I going to die down here?

Just as another tentacle snaked forward to tug at her airline, the water around her erupted into bubbles and April felt herself being violently thrown back and forth. The tentacles remained firmly wrapped around her body, but she felt their grip slacken ever so slightly as two blurs rammed into the squid’s head with claws outstretched. Blood filled the water as the squid flailed beneath its attackers, scaly skin tearing underneath their claws.

April screamed again as one of the creatures suddenly turned on her, eyes wide and ghostly white, and then began to violently attack the limbs holding her tight.

Even as she was being tossed back and forth, April could tell that the creature fighting for her freedom was like nothing she had ever seen in her research. Shape-wise, the creature appeared to be a mix between a human and a turtle, roughly several inches shorter than she was. The terrapin was a pale olive color, covered from head to toe with splotches of purple scales. Thick claws protruded from large, rounded limbs and with each swipe it was clear that they were sharp enough to cut through flesh without much effort. A ramshackle string of lavender stones hung from one of the terrapin’s upper arms, somehow not getting cut or knocked off during the fight, and a quick glance told April that the other creature bore similar decorations on its own body.

When the thrashing tentacles finally began to loosen, the turtle nearest to her grabbed April beneath the armpits and quickly jerked her out of their confinement while the other continued to distract the squid. The turtle’s claws dug into her sides painfully as it held her to its plastron and began to swim awayupwards, causing April to cry out and kick her legs in panic. A series of sharp clicks echoed in April’s ears as she fought, and then several things happened all at once.

The water erupted with even more noise and movement – though April hardly believed it possible – and then the arms around her slackened and fell away, almost immediately to be replaced by several pairs of hands that she could recognize as being human. The next few minutes happened as a blur – she vaguely remembered several decompression stops as they ascended, each accompanied by hands gently patting her body and checking for injury – but before she knew it, they were breaking the surface of the water. There her world continued to move in a confusing blur of shapes and colors as more hands hooked under her arms and heaved her on deck, where her diving equipment was quickly stripped away and replaced with warm towels and gentle touches.

April blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the sudden brightness. “What – ”

“We’ve got you, Little One,” A female biologist that April recognized from her father’s crew came into view amongst the blur of movement and blankets being piled on her shoulders, her face creased in maternal concern. “Delta Team was out patrolling and pulled up right alongside Miles just as your camera surfaced – we were afraid something terrible had happened to you! And – oh, you’re bleeding!”

“I –”

Miles’ voice suddenly broke through the chaos. “Give us a hand – we’ve got something big!”

Rina’s head jerked around to look at something out of April’s line of sight, and then she wrapped her arms around the girl and turned her away from the ruckus occurring on the other boat. The woman muttered something softly in Japanese, her eyes widening as she pulled April tighter against her body. “Oh my word…”

“What’s going on?” April turned against the arms holding her right as a full net thudded onto the deck she’d been on less than an hour ago. The large mass inside of it was curled inward and bleeding slightly, but one limp arm was clearly visible, bearing a bracelet of string and lavender stones.

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