#i need a scanner prayer points for a scanner

[seven-cents]

peak character design

[mothiir]

penance

the black templars discover human women. Nothing nsfw, only vaguely lewd, with canon typical violence and religious themes. Possibly will follow up with a smut if the spirit moves me

alternative summary: where is this strumpet so I might detest her with my own eyes

—

—

Isaiah takes his helm off to inhale the sweet scent of battlefield smoke. The sky is ruddy with dawn, and the last of the heretic cities is nothing more than smouldering rubble, the would-be rebels against the Emperor’s Will either dead or soon to be. Those too young, or too elderly, to have served a meaningful part in the uprising may yet find redemption as Chapter serfs or servitors — after all, there is little point to justice if there is no mercy to go alongside it. 

Sweat gilds his high cheekbones, and drips down his nape. Taking a moment away from his brothers to say his private prayer of thanks to the Emperor is one of the small ways Isaiah keeps his sanity during these long campaigns. He would fight and die beside his brethren with pride — and yet if he has to hear one more of Reuben’s jokes, he may consider —

No. No, none of that, not even in the privacy of his own head: he must be grateful, always. Mindful and grateful of the Emperor’s blessings. Reuben is a blessing. A hardship, yes, but so often blessings take the form of hardships; of lessons to learn. Reuben is an excellent soldier, and an exercise in patience. 

Perhaps it is the thought of Reuben’s damned puns that drives him further than usual, or the desire to admire the sight of a battle hard-fought. Either way, Isaiah ends up a good five hundred feet from camp before he quite realises it, crunching over charred bones and burned, unrecognisable standards.

Then: a sound. Thin, high, and vaguely organic. At once, he replaces his helmet, Captain Ezra’s words echoing in his memory: boy, there is no point prancing around like the main character in a holo — the enemy does not need to see your pretty face, and nor do I.

Anyway. The noise. His scanners alert him to a life form, hidden behind a pile of corpses. Humanoid. Rabbit-hearted, and trying very hard to remain unseen. 

He upholsters his bolter, and stalks forwards: a faceless, merciless instrument of the Emperor’s wrath. 

—

The clouds hang thick and red, like they have absorbed all the blood spilt today, and the heat is oppressive. A thunderstorm is coming; you taste it in the air. Soon, the rain will extinguish the last of the flaming rubble on this planet you once called home. It will fill the empty eye sockets of those who died for the delusions of your rulers. It will wash the land clean. 

And you doubt you will see it. 

As the Templar yanked you from the rubble, your shoulder had popped from its socket with a sick, wet crack; you had only kept yourself from crying out by biting into your tongue. Now your right arm hangs useless by your side, radiating bright veins of sheer agony. You daren’t make a move to cradle it, to ease your discomfort. 

“Your world is guilty of the crime of sedition,” intones the Templar, his voice as final as a tombstone falling into place. “Your leaders rebelled against the Divinity of the Emperor, and —“

”And I should die for it,” you manage, through lips gummed together with dried saliva and ash. “Because we let it happen.”

He pauses. The subtle tilt of his helm could be curiousity; could be an invitation to continue; could be nothing at all. But you are not dead. Not yet. Something in your chest is kindled, and you remember when you were little, at a school now nothing but ash, how your teacher would complain: that girl, she always has something to say.   

“We let it happen,” you continue, not sure if you are arguing for your life or begging for martyrdom. “We saw the upper echelons turn to Ch — the accursed powers.” Thou shalt not speak the name of the beast, you remember reading somewhere, lest thou invite it in to feast. “And we did not stop them. We worked away, heads bent and faces averted, and we obeyed orders, and the rot spread and ruined our world. I — I thank you, for your cleansing fire, for your — for His mercy. For bringing the Light of the Emperor to this place.”

You cannot curtesy, not in this shape, and so you drop straight to the ground, knees smacking into hard stone. You bare your nape, awaiting judgement, awaiting the blade, your heart singing against your ribs, that desperate song, that too-late plea: oh I want to live. Emperor above, let me live. 

—

“That is a woman,” says Reuben, like he has never seen one before. 

”Yes, Reuben, that is a woman.”

“In our dormitory.”

”Yes,” Isaiah says. ”She is in our dormitory.”

As this world lacks any proper infrastructure — due to the intensive bombing campaign needed to bring it back to the Emperor’s Grace — the Astartes have retired to their battle barge, as Marshal Ezra Rothenberg plans their next movements. 

Isaiah is honoured to consider himself part of the Edessan Crusade. There are more than two thousand of his brothers dedicated to the continued extirpation of Chaos from the Edessan system: a task that was predicted to take ten solar years, and yet is proceeding far ahead of schedule — due, in no small part, to the enthusiastic participation of the new recruits Guilliman so kindly provided them. If Guilliman hoped that the Primaris Marines would take the edge off the Black Templar’s well-known zealotry, he was swiftly disappointed. Within a few days of arriving, the only way to differentiate between the new recruits and their more seasoned brothers was size. 

Isaiah shares a barren dorm with Reuben, and three other brothers. They sleep on plain metal bunks, with a rough woollen blanket and a thin pillow. Other Chapters, Isiaiah has heard, are so decadent and spoiled as to have duvets — which are sacks of feathers — and sometimes even something called a mattress? Absurd. He pities his fellow Primaris Marines, shipped out to such degeneracy. He hopes that they can cultivate an appropriate sense of duty and decorum in the older generation. How can anyone value such petty things as comfort when the Emperor’s enemies still draw breath?

You are sitting on Isaiah’s bed, the blanket around your shoulders, your eyes wide. You have not spoken since he brought you here — barely whimpered when he popped your shoulder back into place. 

“…what is her purpose here?” Reuben says. He sits on his own bunk, opposite Isaiah, his afternoon reading (a hagiography of one of the more exciting saints) sprawled forgotten on his lap. 

“Chapter serf,” says Isaiah. 

“Do we need more serfs?”

”Yes. We do. The ones we have are — uh —very devout — “

The pair grimace. The fact that the serfs spend so long in prayer is to be admired, but it doesn’t often leave them much time to perform their duties. Isaiah is sick of doing his own mending because Serf Osric and Serf Jean are once more faint from fasting and all-night vigils to the glory of the Emperor. 

“Did the Marshal allocate her to you?”

Isaiah pulls an interesting series of expressions. ”Not…exactly,” he allows, unwilling to lie, and yet not wanting to admit the truth. “But he has been…busy, of late.”

”Yes. Busy. With crusading against the Emperor’s enemies.”

”Too busy to be concerned with this sort of thing,” Isaiah says, hesitantly, dangling the bait before Reuben, waiting for him to take it. Reuben leans forwards to better observe you. Isaiah feels a strange twist of pride when you don’t cringe from his regard, but meet his dark eyes with your own, your chin tipped up, your fingers curling into the blanket. Then you suddenly seem to remember who you are, and where you are, and drop your head in supplication. 

“Yes,” Reuben says, slowly. “Far too busy to be concerned with this. Don’t want to bother him.”

Isaiah utters a fervent prayer of thanks to the Emperor, feeling only a little guilty at thanking Him for his brother’s aid in deceiving their Marshal. But it wasn’t really deception, was it? They weren’t lying to him at all — they just weren’t telling him! Completely different. 

“Exactly! It’s beneath his concern.”

”She’s beneath his concern!”

In total accord, both Templars grin at each other, before hurriedly smoothing their faces into expressions of solemn piety. 

“Yes, brother. I am glad that the Emperor has seen fit to deliver unto us a — hang on, can you sew?” Reuben says, addressing you directly. You glance up at Isaiah, then stammer:

“Y-yes my lord —“

“Excellent.”

Reuben kicks up and off his bunk, rummages in the steel box that contains all his worldly possessions, then throws a wad of fabric at you. It unfurls into a dozen pairs of socks that look very much worse for wear.

“Start with those. Then my tunic needs restitching — the Emperor’s Most Holy Iconography is starting to get a bit tattered. Then —“

”Brother Reuben, you cannot hog the new serf —“

”I am offering her the chance to redeem the sins of her forefathers and mothers with holy labour.“

“Well, yes,” Isaiah protests. “But the holy labour cannot just be confined to your menial tasks—“

”Why — do you have menial tasks that need attending to?”

”Yes!” Isaiah says, thinking of his own increasing pile of ragged undergarments. “You can mend Brother Reuben’s socks, and then you must attend to my laundry —“

”And then she can mend my tunic —“

”No, then she must pray,” Isaiah says, belatedly remembering the importance of even the most lowly baselines in adding their voices to the Emperor’s endless praises. “And attend chapel —“

”Where Marshal Ezra may behold her?” Brother Reuben says. “The serf that we do not strictly speaking have, as she has not been allocated to us?”

Ah. Yes. He had forgotten about that.

”She must pray while she works,” Isiaih amends. “And abase herself before the Emperor’s mercy.”

”Yes. But pray quietly.”

”Do you know the appropriate psalms to recite while conducting your redemptive labour?” Isaiah says. You chew your lip.

“The correct litanies while uh…mending the socks of the Emperor’s chosen may have not been included in my education,” you say. Isaiah sighs. Truly, you came from a blighted world. 

“You will learn them,” he says. “The Emperor will guide your tongue. If you fail to learn them then it is a sign that you have not received His Grace, and in that case fear not — we will deliver unto you the Emperor’s Mercy.”

“She will learn them,” Brother Reuben says, with a fervent and touching belief in humanity’s dedication to the Emperor.

 Or, perhaps, a fervent desire to have socks without holes in them. 

—

And so it goes. The Emperor sees fit to decree that the brothers that share Reuben and Isaiah’s quarters remain on the planet to build a chapter monastery there, taking advantage of the natural resources that are now free for use. No new brothers are installed in the dormitory — a great shame, of course, but it does have the benefit of ensuring that Brother Reuben and Isiaiah do not have to face awkward questions about your presence. 

Isiaiah has never been in close contact with baseline humans before, save the serfs aboard the fleet, and he knows that it is his duty to ensure that you are free of Chaos’s taint, and suitably devoted to the God Emperor. As such, he ensures that you have the appropriate reading material, and tests you to ensure that you can recite the benedictions. The first time you stumbled over an incorrect word, he had sighed deeply and sorrowfully, reaching for his bolter. Brother Reuben had dragged him to the side and explained — in hurried whispers — that humans do not have the same eidetic memory as Astartes, and the misstep was not indicative of a lapse in faith but simply a sign of your humanity. 

Fascinating. 

There are other baseline issues that surprise both brothers. They sleep perfectly well on their hard metal bed frames, and their serfs often deliberately braid thistles into their blankets in order to better scourge their flesh for the sin of being mortal. You, however, suffer greatly for the first few days. You end up with deep purple shadows beneath your eyes, and you wince when performing even the simplest of tasks. 

“I am sorry my lords,” you stammer, when Isaiah confronts you on your constant yawning. “It is just — I am cursed to be a woman, and thus I do not have the fortitude that you have, and my body is frail and weak and cannot find rest in the blessed conditions that you enjoy.”

Reuben magnanimously permits you the use of a blanket and two of the pillows left by his brothers. Isaiah thinks that pandering to your body’s frailty could well be slowing your path to redemption, but he bows to his brother’s greater knowledge. 

He is perturbed by how much you rest — as much as six hours a night, if you are permitted to sleep continuously. Once again, Reuben explains that this is normal for the baselines. Besides, if Isaiah wants devout serfs, he is more than welcome to once more entrust his care to Osric and Jean. 

Isaiah stops questioning your rest hours swiftly. He does not want to go back to the days of having to convince a flagellant to polish his pauldrons. Without the brothers seeking them out, the old serfs seem happy to spend most of their time in the chapel, or wandering the halls while caning themselves and loudly declaring the Emperor’s benevolence to all. 

Yes, Isaiah wants to say, we know He is very benevolent and very merciful. He also wants you to do your damn jobs. 

The first real challenge occurs ten days into your time aboard the barge. You drop to your knees before Isaiah, assuming the penitential crouch you always take on when you address either of them. The sight of you prostrate at his feet — spine a neat curve, head bowed, hands clasped — always makes Isaiah’s stomach warm and twist. He enjoys seeing you so keen to atone, so eager to please the Emperor, and to receive  His mercy. 

“My lords, I humbly beg your permission to take a moment to clean myself — I have not managed to do so since leaving my accursed planet, and I fear that I dishonour your presence by performing my duties while unwashed.”

”You have washed yourself,” Isaiah says, frowning. He’s seen you wipe your face and underarms with a wet rag, and you wash your hands every time you go to the bathroom (a sensitive experience for all concerned, given that one of them has to escort you to the nearest convenience, and the other has to stand watch to ensure no one sees you).

”Yes, but — a shower, my lords, that is what I am asking for.”

Isaiah sniffs the air thoughtfully. True, you do smell a little sourer than you did previously, but he has lived with far more odiferous people; Brother Reuben during his ‘bathing too frequently is decadent and an offence to the Emperor’ phase for one.

(That particular penitence had been ended when Marshal Ezra had thrown Reuben bodily into the icy plunge pool and announced to all that the Emperor suffered enough on His golden throne — the Templars did not need to add their stench to the tribulations He endured.)

”Humans require more maintenance than Astartes,” Reuben allows. “It cannot hurt to permit her to bathe.”

Still, they do not want to risk taking you to one of the communal showers, nor do they want to send you off to the serf quarters. Several of their brothers are already suspicious of their suddenly-improved attire, and the last thing either of them want is to face questions about your presence — or, worse still, a request to share. So Isaiah fetches a large copper tub used by the medicae for those too unwell to stand upright to bathe, and fills it with water, and Brother Reuben donates one of his scraps of yellow soap. 

“Th-thank you my lords,” you say, from your usual prostrate position; then you stand, a little unsure, eyeing them almost expectantly. The tub is set in the middle of the dormitory; Reuben is reading one of his favourite scriptures, while Isiaiah tends to his bolter. ”Uh — is it okay if I —“

You gesture at your smock. Isiaiah blinks at you. 

“Are you asking permission to bathe? I have said that you may — do not waste my time with needless questions.”

He turns back to his bolter, wiping the sacred oils onto the stock, murmuring the appropriate incantations to appease the machine spirit within. A flurry of fabric; a splash; a pained squeal. 

“This water is ice,” you yell, and Isaiah, startled, looks up. 

His hand remains looped around the bolter, polishing up and down, up and down — but he finds he cannot tear his gaze from you. The water comes up to your waist, but the rest of you is bare, your flesh goosepimpled from the cold, your arms clutching your torso. Your elbows press under your breasts, pushing them up, where they glisten under the harsh dorm lighting. As you shiver, one nipple flashes.

Brother Reuben stares as well. 

“Emperor preserve me,” he mutters, and Isaiah comes to his senses, turning his eyes aside. 

“Woman!” he says, sounding only a little strangled. “Cover yourself!”

Another splash. When Isaiah peeks up — just to check that you have ceased to offend the Emperor with your naked bosom — he is gratified to see that you are neck deep in water.

”S-sorry my lords,” you say, teeth chattering.

”You are a Chapter Serf of the Black Templars,” Isiaha says hotly, his grasp tightening on the bolter, his strokes growing surer and stronger, seeking solace in the familiar rhythm. “You must act in a way that is fitting for your station! Do not flaunt yourself so! You must conduct yourself with - with decorum, and modesty. Be demure! Mindful!”

Isaiah, a little breathless after his holy vitriol, looks to Brother Reuben for moral support. Reuben is looking fixedly at his book. 

“I saw nothing,” says the other Templar. “I am blind to that which does not beatify the Emperor Himself. The nudity of a serf has no bearing on my day’s prayer. It is as insignificant as the passage of a beetle along the floor.”

”Is that why you are reading your scripture upside down?”

Reuben does not look up, even as he turns the book the right way around. 

“Brother Isaiah, if you polish that gun any harder it is liable to blast a hole in the wall.”

”It is not loaded, Brother Reuben,” Isaiah snaps. “I am conducting my daily worship to the Machine Spirit.”

”Is that what you call it?” Reuben mutters, and Isaiah elects to ignore him. 

—

“Where did you obtain the uniform for her?” Isaiah says, the next day, his voice hushed. It is just after morning prayer-drills, and the pair are walking back to their dormitory to change, before their lunchtime prayer-drills.

”I — just from the other serf’s laundry,” says Reuben, casting a quick look around. The halls of the battle barge are more akin to that of a cathedral than a space-ship, with huge domed ceilings, and statues placed at regular intervals in well-lit alcoves. Isaiah normally takes great comfort in the stern regard of his immortalised forebears, but for some reason today he feels their gaze like a brand, like he is a neophyte and they are watching him commit some secret and terrible sin. 

“They do not fit her,” Isaiah says. Reuben frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

”I mean — “ Isaiah pauses for a moment, struggling to find the words. Emperor grant him Reuben’s lack of observational skills — truly, his brother is a sterling example of blind faith. “I mean…this morning. When she bent over to pick up the scripture. Her skirt. It — moved in a way that displayed her rump in a way that is most unbecoming to a serf.”

Reuben exhales, his jaw ticking minutely. “Oh? I did not notice. I do not make a habit of looking at the serf’s rear end.”

”I was not looking at her rear end!” Isaiah whisper-shouts. “It was…just there. Wiggling.”

”Wiggling?”

”Yes, wiggling.”

”Is our serf distracting you from your duties, Brother Isaiah?” Reuben says, in a tone of concern so genuine it feels like mockery. 

“No! I just — it would bring shame upon our crusade if our serfs are not modestly attired.”

”I quite agree. However, I would argue that our serf is very well attired. Covered up almost to the throat.”

”Almost,” Isaiah says. “When she bends over to wash her face in the morning, if you stand at the incorrect place in the dormitory, and you have the misfortune to be looking for a book on the other side of the room, and then you find yourself looking downwards at the incorrect moment so you may observe the flagstones, you will be cursed with a view straight down her sleeping smock — and you will see both her breasts, exposed quite fully! It is revolting. A blight upon the Emperor.”

”How hideous! We must of course remedy this at once.”

”At once.”

”However,” says Reuben, as they round a corner, approaching their dormitory. “In order for me to avoid benighting mine eyes with such a distasteful view, I would much appreciate it if next time the serf washes her face you were to demonstrate the precise angle that I should avoid standing at. For I only wish to see what is pure and just in the eyes of the Emperor, and in order to do so we must have a full understanding of where to avoid looking.”

Isaiah pauses for a moment. After all, is it not his duty to guide his brothers when they seek to avoid sin? “Yes,” he says. “I will ensure that I show you most where you must not stand, and where to avoid casting your eyes. And — if I may make a suggestion?”

”Of course, brother Isaiah.”

”Perhaps it is not the uniform. Perhaps it is the way the serf has learned to stand and bend. Coming as she does from such a depraved world, riddled with heresy, it is natural that she does not know the right and proper way for a servant of the Emperor to move. Perhaps we should ask her to bend over a few times for us, and thus we can best advise her on how to avoid unnecessary…wiggling.”

Reuben grins at the thought of guiding a sinner onto the path of the righteous. “Yes, brother Isaiah. I do believe we should.”

[fllagellant]

Me reminding myself this is my blog and I can say whatever anyways bc I opened c2077 and my brain is hot wired to mass effect rn . Who wants to hear some loose ideas . You do I am making this choice for you .. under the cut bc long post thumbsup

Wrex is a fixer 1000% . Specifically a fixer out in the badlands working with the nomads bc the Urdnots are a nomad clan so he Has that connection + he’ s just setting up shop outside night city to make life a bit easier . He ends up adopting Grunt at some point when he’ s like . 5ish . Grunt still chooses the name Grunt when he hits like 18 and jumps into organized fighting . Wrex sponsors him in these fights . Bakara is Grunt’ s mother figure and runs the little Fixer Business in tandem with Wrex . She also keeps constant check on the Urdnot clan’ s status and such . She also organizes drag races . Grunt cannot compete in these he crashes any car he drives to pieces . She’ s busy half the day , either doing work on her own car , taking time for prayer , or she’ s just gone into night city for some Reason

Ashley is a rocker who took up the mantle after loosing her grandfather and father in corporate wars . She did join militech for a few years but was discharged later from disorder + she was going down the same path as her granddad + dad and she realized she really didn’ t deserve that fate . She still has her old military upgrades and constantly keeps them checked so they don’ t malfunction badly since they are Old models . She likes them and she knows removal would just be harder than the upkeep at that point . She lives in North Oak . I like to think she does both heavier rock and acoustic , depending on her mood

Kasumi is like . One of The Best people to get on your team for a job . Equipped with top of the line cybernetics , some of them definitely stolen from secure government data , she can easily make any job an infiltration job and can keep casualties to the Minimum . Yes she has the behavioural faceplate and yes she does use it to screw with her friends and contacts often it is good for her. She prefers to stay off grid , but has her own little network she jacks into at the end of the day for her own little joys . She probably lives in Dog Town , to keep herself separate from the rest of night city . She’ s a collector of rare technology too , and will do Anything to get her hands on it . If it’ s still in working condition ? She’ s taking it nothing can stop her

Thane and Samara r also fixers , Thane in Heywood and Samara in Westbrook .. I like to think they share gigs with each other often . They are also often on the look out for newer people to night city to try and see if they Need help or if they Can help and try to set them up from there .. Kolyat runs with a gang in Heywood and Thane keeps up with making sure he stays safe + making sure he keeps up with prayer and whatnot . Morinth is another rocker and braindance actor who tries to make her bds as dangerous as possible . Samara doesn’ t approve of the BDs part of her livelihood but will try to set her up with jobs to keep her busy and keep her out of trouble Samara doesn’ t quite approve of ..

Jack does gigs only related to cyberpsychosis . She’ s a survivor herself and she knows better than anyone how to handle someone during an episode . She crashes around night city and doesn’ t really stay in one place for long . She’ s always checking police scanners to see if another incident has been reported Or if they’ re on her ass again . She has a Doberman she rescued that accompanies her around night city , he’ s very good at protecting her bike from being hijacked . She does have a little side car for him to curl up in during rides

Joker and EDI are a “ team “ of fixers . Technically . They both operate under the name Joker and never show their face during any form of communication . EDI is an AI that hasn’ t been claimed by the Blackwall and Joker is in the process of building her a body that can pass as human just with a Lot of cybernetics . They’ re both netrunners and are terrifying at what they do . Joker is ex corporate and survived a zeroing attempt so he is very . Well . He isn’ t the nicest guy ever .. EDI was a project he managed to save before having to go into hiding for a bit . Joker’ s skills let him have near perfect control of vehicles while EDI is better with security measures . People keep trying to guess which voice of the two of them is real and which one is a cover up voice . Since it’ s not like they want people to figure out what is actually going on

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

The Jeep

Eli’s sixteen and Stiles wants to give him the Jeep, Derek might need some persuading.

[AO3]

 “I’m just saying—” Stiles said, sitting back against the velvet covered bedhead. “He’s sixteen now, he’s got his licence, he’s going to need a car.”

“Then we’ll get him a car,” Derek replied from the ensuite.

“Why not just give him the Jeep?” Stiles pressed.

Derek peered his head around the corner of the doorframe. “Because that thing is held together by duct tape and prayers.”

“Then we’ll get it fixed up,” Stiles suggested.

“Or we just get him a new car,” Derek countered, stepping out of the ensuite. He turned the light off behind him and climbed into bed beside Stiles. “One with better safety ratings, GPS, Bluetooth, and all that. A car that’s not going to break down or fall to pieces every time he reverses out of the driveway.”

“A car that crumples like a paper ball at the smallest dent? I mean, I hit Jackson with that Jeep and it barely made a dent.”

Derek huffed out a breath, struggling to smother his laughter and trying to keep a serious face.

“We’ve been through a lot, and – for better or worse – that Jeep has survived everything we have,” Stiles continued. “It may not have Bluetooth or GPS, but it still works after all these years.”

Derek sighed.

He had to admit: Stiles had a point. That Jeep, despite all the damage and duct tape, had held together over decades.

But there was something else; something Stiles wasn’t saying.

Derek leant back against the pillows, turning his head to look at Stiles.

“And…?” he prompted.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” Stiles started slowly, “but it was my mum’s car. My dad gave it to me as a way of holding onto her. I always felt like… it felt like she was watching over me. And as silly as it sounds, the thought that she’d be watching over Eli gives me some comfort.”

Derek reached over and took Stiles’ hand in his. He laced their fingers together and gave Stiles’ hand a gentle squeeze.

Stiles blinked back the glistening tears that welled in his eyes.

Derek brushed the ball of his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand.

“Okay,” he relented. “You can give him the Jeep.”

Stiles straightened, looking at Derek with a mix of shock and joy.

“On one condition,” Derek added quickly. “We get a complete refit: new engine, brakes, airbags, full service—all of it. And we’re taking the police scanner out.”

“You can replace it with one of those fancy radios with Bluetooth and GPS,” Stiles offered, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder.

A small smile turned up the corners of Derek’s lips.

“Deal,” he whispered, turning his head and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Stiles’ head.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “Eli?” Derek called out from where he stood by the front door.

He heard the footsteps on the wooden floorboards as Eli emerged from his room. “Yeah?”

“You got a minute?” Derek asked.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked as he made his way down the stairs and over to his dad’s side.

“Should you be?” Derek asked as he held the front door open, letting his son step out onto the front porch where Stiles stood waiting for them.

He paused for a moment, his eyes darting about as he searched his memories for anything he might have done that would get him in trouble.

“No,” he answered, but there was an upward infliction at the end of the word that made it sound like a question rather than a statement.

“You’re not in trouble,” Stiles reassured him.

“So, what’s up?” Eli asked.

“Well,” Stiles started. “You’re sixteen now and you have your license, and since your dad and I need the cars all the time—”

“And since you’ve proven you can be responsible and trustworthy,” Derek added.

“—we’re giving you a car.”

Eli’s eyes opened wide, his jaw hanging open. “Seriously?”

Derek nodded.

Stiles dug into his pocket and pulled out the key, holding it out in front of him for Eli to take.

Eli recognised the key.

He stared at it in stunned silence.

When he found his voice again, his words were barely a whisper.

“The Jeep?” His voice broke around the word, his eyes glistening with tears of joy as he looked from the key to his dads’ faces. “You’re giving me the Jeep?”

“It’s all yours,” Stiles told him.

Eli reached out and look the key from his dad.

“It’s been fully serviced,” Derek told him. “It has a new engine and everything.”

Eli glanced over his shoulder at the dusty-blue Jeep. “Can I…?”

Stiles nodded.

He leapt off the porch and bounded over to the Jeep, pulling open the driver’s side door and sliding into the seat. He didn’t turn it on; he just sat in the driver’s seat, bouncing up and down slightly with uncontainable happiness. He couldn’t help but laugh with excitement as he let his hands grip the soft, worn leather of the steering wheel.  

Stiles and Derek stepped over to the car.

Eli bolted upright, his eyes widening as he remembered something.

“Does it still have the—?” His words died off as he answered his own question: he pulled down the sun visor to see the photo of Stiles wrapped in Claudia’s arms. He was four – maybe five – years old in the photo, the sun shining on their faces as they both looked at the camera, caught half way between smiling and laughing. He carefully pulled the photo out from where it was held in place by elastic, holding it in his hands as he looked at it fondly.

He sniffed and blinked back tears, trying to hide his face from his parents as he turned to hand the photo to Stiles.

Stiles shook his head, gently pushing Eli’s hand back. “That’s for you.”

Eli looked at him, his brow furrowed slightly with confusion.

“She’s always watching over you,” Stiles said quietly.

Eli didn’t say anything. Tears fell from Eli’s eyes, trailing down his cheeks as he looked down at the photo again. He offered his dad a shaky smile as he slotted the photo back into its place. He looked at his grandmother’s face one more time before carefully and lovingly putting the sun visor back up.

He wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. “Thanks, Dad.”

Stiles offered him a kind smile.

“There’s an emergency kit in the back,” Derek told him. “First aid kit, blanket, bottled water, snacks, a change of clothes, and a few other things. And, most importantly…” He stepped around the hood of the Jeep and opened the passenger side door. He reached into the glove box, pulled something out, and held it up.

The moment Eli and Stiles saw it, they both burst into laughter.

A brand new roll of duct tape.

[frightfurtabby]

HimiKiyo Week 2021 Day 3- The Streets are Long-Ass Gutters

Day 3! Time for a Cyberpunk AU. What is vice and what is virtue in a dystopian future where so many have turned to crime to survive in corrupt corporate states?

I forget if I mentioned this in the last post but all the amino crosspost links will be collected and posted at the end of the week on here. 

Word Count: 3,061

Content: Lots of murder, alcohol reference

Links-

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34139533

People were suffering, toiling away at shitty jobs for next to no pay, exploited by the powerful megacorporations. Back in the past it was only nations or gangs that went to war against each other, or against themselves. The trend now for the last 100 years was corporations fighting actual bloody wars against each other instead. Sending out all the low level grunts who they had no use for anymore to die. The worst, darkest parts of humanity were on full display every day whether it was something that made the news or not.

Still, technology progressed even when it seemed everything else had regressed into feudalism. Death and Life became ever more complex as people started being able to be downloaded and uploaded like AI with most if not all memories intact. So what truly counted as being dead now? Stuff that could have killed you before could be better dealt with enough credits to pay someone under the table.

In this backdrop is where Korekiyo grew up their whole life, initially being insulated from much of it. That all changed when they didn’t have my parents protection any more. One of them found it a “step too far” to put the chip with what remained of Sister’s brain in themself. Among other traditionalist qualms about how they dressed and wanted to modify about themself, such as the metal arm and enhanced nervous system. It wasn’t surprising, given how they reacted to people like them any time the topic was in the news.

So for the next few years they were travelling, studying how various people were dealing with their own conditions with a school anthropology department. And yet they weren’t allowed to publish some findings because the “education” megacorp that ran the colleges blocked it.

After becoming fed up with the state of things Kiyo quit and joined a gang, getting to delve in and know more about the so-called Underworld and its inhabitants. People from all walks of life ended up around them: drifters, ex-corpos, sex workers, mercenaries, people who were all of the above and then some. Almost none of it was surprising.

And just a couple weeks ago there was an incident that changed their trajectory again, though it seemed like it was just another in a long line of similar incidents..

A group of Yakuza, emboldened in their power by even more corporate money laundering, at the behest of a giant media conglomerate attacked the headquarters of a rival channel. They overheard that performers were one the upper floors which included one of the showrunners' nieces, this pulled Kiyo in to follow the hit squad. Spread throughout the floors were average people who hadn’t done anything wrong and not all of them were going to be saved.

They met Himiko Yumeno and saved her life because of being in the right place at the right time. As though it were destiny.

She was  holed up in a locked room and caught a glimpse of a metal arm holding a steady gun and assumed it was one of the attackers, taking Kiyo down suddenly as they searched for people to help. It took a few moments of pleading to clear up the misunderstanding on their part and help her open up an emergency door for the rest of the show’s cast. It was here they were properly introduced to each other.

“I’m so sorry about that. You can never be too careful.” she said. “So if you’re not with them are you, you don’t look like building security? A cop?”

Kiyo shook their head, they weren’t sure if they could tell her what they really were just yet. Mainly because it wasn’t that much different from what the guys currently murdering a bunch of her co-workers were. “We can talk about that later. I’m not the police either, but they’re coming so we should get out before they come in and we get caught in the crossfire.”

“Fair point.”

Himiko followed behind on the way down the steps and both listened to the shots still ringing out. Some were coming from inside the building but it sounded like the police had rolled up on the front side and were now trading fire in between pleas on their radio to stop the attack.

The streets were going to be blocked off for a pretty wide area, and it had already started. So the two weaved through a back alleyway a few blocks back and found a car left unattended by one of the gang squads.

“I’ll hotwire this, get in.” Kiyo placed a hand on the door and scanned the lock requirements and transformed a finger into just the right shape of key to unlock it. She was sighing in relief, tired of running or being on edge already. Even though it couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes since the start of the raid it felt like every moment stretched on for hours.

Kiyo tapped the driver's side glass to run a check and found it to be bulletproof. They weren’t sure if the passenger’s side was equally protected, but the front pane definitely was knowing how important getaway driver’s were considered.

The car started up and Kiyo shot out of the alley fast enough to send a can of trash flying up, and swerved out onto the road. The blockade wasn’t out this far yet, there was probably a shortage of them on the force again. This even had a police scanner in it, to track them. With just a little bit of a tweak it could also send signals out. They considered for a moment if it was worth it. They didn’t think any good would come of anyone following potentially.

So instead they start using their cyborg arm to start fiddling and turn off tracking and both the dash cam on the front and any bio-scanners inside that would prove they had commandeered this vehicle. It was breaking several laws, yes, but it was saving a life. Nothing they weren’t already used to.

Another car sped up to get right behind them. It was the same kind of model, so definitely one of the attackers. Possibly saw the theft or came when it stopped giving a signal. Either way they were now being followed. And when one followed there was likely going to be more. Either by the police who may think they were involved or by crooks mad their car was taken.

They passed the gun to her. “Here, use this should it come to that.”

Traffic picked up further away from the scene they got so it was harder to weave through quick enough until they hit the freeway. Too many witnesses were made to even properly count. And the brief slow down allowed the other vehicle to graze their side, causing Kiyo to need to swerve and almost over-correct around the next corner.

Their company got even and then picked up speed to pull a little bit ahead, the back window rolled down like their passenger side. A man inside was shouting and going for a weapon on his belt, his words drowned out by the speed of air caused by the race, and he wouldn’t get to finish because Himiko fired twice, sending him backwards into his seat and out of sight.

Kiyo sped up again, hearing a cacophony of honks from civilian vehicles upset at being forced to pull to the shoulder. The enemy driver steadied and muttered a prayer before grinding against the passenger side and attempted his own shot only for the third bullet from Himiko embed itself into the arm he was aiming with, causing it to miss and puncture the ceiling of the stolen vehicle.

Himiko’s adrenaline was pumping. Someone was already dead or going to be soon at her hands. Even if it was defensive, the very thought terrified her.

And yet the driver didn’t give up. He grabbed it with his other hand and drove with the forearm of his injured side to go and ram them again. This time another car got between them as Kiyo veered to create distance and avoid rear-ending the unfortunate motorist.

“Listen, please fire again the next time you see him.” Kiyo asked.

She was shaking, and nodded. There wasn’t much to say. It was what had to be done.

The back seat was hit several times, even shattering the windows, before Himiko had a good shot a throwing knife whizzed into her and the sharp edge cut one of her hands. And her return volley hit the door of the driver, who was reloading. In just a few more seconds he would have bullets with her name on them. That knife was to buy him time.

So she used the last shot, shaking off the pain momentarily, and due to how he was hunched over the bullet entered his jaw and he crashed into the wall as he spasmed and convulsed.

Leaving only their car speeding away… for now.

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

Surprisingly, nobody else came. A trip to the outer limits of the city got them away. Kiyo parked in a back alley lot and immediately went and cracked open the trunk. As expected, there were more weapons and some medical supplies for those who were hurt on the job.

She sat down on a milk crate, wincing. “God, this hurts so bad.” She held her opposite hand around her cut to prevent herself from bleeding everywhere as Kiyo brought over the med kit. Blood from her wound was already covering her skirt and leggings.

“That was a close call, I’m glad you’re a surprisingly good shot.” Kiyo said, taking some time to clean and disinfect her first.

“Surprisingly? What’s that supposed to mean?” she huffed at the tall stranger. People were always thinking she was some pushover because she was short and looked young.

Kiyo let the blood soak some before checking how deep the wound was. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything too serious. Wrapping it in some gauze did the trick.

“I don’t mean to offend, but I’ve not seen you fire anything before. How was I supposed to know at that moment?”

“I…” Himiko sighed “I guess you’re right. Thanks by the way. You saved my life.”

“We’re… not entirely out of the clear just yet.” Kiyo said as they got up and dumped the license plate into the alley’s dumpster, quickly covering it with more trash that was littered about, they’d stolen it from the car. It was a bit old fashioned but it would be another piece of evidence that could connect the car to the scene they’d just escaped. Any conclusive proof the gang or cops could find should be destroyed.

“When will we be in the clear?” the girl asked,

She watched her new companion pouring oil from a drum onto the vehicle. And motion her to get back. She took the pack with the rest of the useful medical supplies and Kiyo removed the case of weaponry and looked it over.

“Only when we get to my place. You should probably stay a few days so the hunt dies down… maybe I could put you with a friend in the same-”

“I’m sure your friends are good and all but… I don’t know them yet, I want to stay with you if I gotta pick.”

Kiyo nodded in understanding. “Well then, we’re about.” The tall one did some mental math, checking in quickly with the chip in their head that sped that process up. “35 miles northeast of the complex I live in.”

“And your ride is on the way?”

Kiyo nodded in the affirmative “Indeed. It won’t be very much longer now in fact. It’ll be a couple more blocks up so we’re out of the way when… this goes off.” Then they flicked a match onto the end of the line of oil and rushed with her away.

The way back to the apartment was tense and paranoid. Kiyo put on the online radio to keep track of the news about the situation, switching stations occasionally if they switched coverage to something else or there was nothing new. Chatter online indicated about half the building’s occupants went down with at least injuries. The exact death toll wouldn’t be out until everything had been secured.

“Should I call and tell people I’m okay? I… don’t exactly want to show up as missing on the national news.” Himiko said, shifting nervously in her chair.

“Yes, you can tell someone you trust.” It would look bad if they let their paranoia convince them not to allow her to. Seeming like a kidnapper would just bring unwanted attention. Their associates would be mad and sister told them she didn’t exactly want to spend her time sticking around to just be spent behind bars.

One press and it went to her contact. “I’m okay, I got out. I’ll be in hiding for now. I’m with another friend.”  She had to keep it short on the low battery, unfortunately. Even with being weary of this person still, she thought better of revealing anything more.

She hung up with a farewell after a few more seconds and turned it back off, complaining to the only other who was around to listen. “Of all the days for me to leave the charger at home. Angie even reminded me not to do that.”

“Angie? That’s not a name you hear much in Japan.”

“It’s not, she’s actually from one of those islands out in the pacific. Used to be an American colony before well…”

Kiyo nodded. The United States of America had long since broken up due in part to the corporate wars and there really wasn’t any recognized entity that was still calling itself that. So all the non-mainland territories broke away. Many still are under the boot of large companies whether they were locally built or arrived from overseas since the islands were so rich in natural resources that couldn’t be found in many other places.

The conversation branched out from there, keeping both of their minds occupied with something other than the dread of having even more of those guys after them.

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

During the apartment tour Kiyo showed Himiko around. The kitchenette, which was stocked with microwave instant noodles and burritos, featured a ton of soda and alcohol in the small fridge. All of it was cheap and/or synthetic stuff, clearly Shinguji wasn’t someone living in the lap of luxury.

Then there was the main room. It was in the center, the kitchenette was a small area to the left side. It had tile instead of carpet denoting the otherwise almost nonexistent boundary. There were very few doors: one leading outward to the balcony, one leading to the lone bedroom, and a third leading to the lone bathroom.

“Would you like to sleep out here? It’s generally pretty safe…”

“You look like you’re about to hit me with a huge ‘but’”

“Last month someone tried to break in. They were high off something and thought this was their unit. And rumor has it someone’s found ways to pick locks around here. Mine are up to date enough but you know how it is with malware.”

“Then I’ll sleep uh, in your room. If that’s okay.”

Kiyo agreed, showing her the large bed. It could easily fit both of them even though the majority of the time nobody but Kiyo was using it. There was a wardrobe and a work desk. The work desk held all of their weapons and tech. Many tools were used to keep everything working.

“And yes before you ask, I am too poor to afford all of this. A lot of it is stolen.” Kiyo explained. “Often from people who met an unfortunate fate like our attackers earlier.” Kiyo added the new goods to the collection by putting it on top of the desk.

Thankfully the blinds were always shut on this room. Kiyo had boarded it up and sealed the heat in that way because every so often in places as rundown as this you’d get a window shot out for no real reason other than some assholes felt like it.  

A few hours later they had crawled in and tried to rest. At some point somebody must have wanted more warmth because upon waking up the next morning Kiyo noticed they were now huddling together, arms around the other. It would be a delicate thing to get out of the embrace without waking her up too.

They hesitated. They didn’t have any urgent jobs at this hour, all of those were planned specifically to be later. So was it really wrong to stay put and just see how she’s doing? It was a rough day yesterday after all.

Even with the window boarded up small cracks of light fluttered through. A small reminder the outside still had beauty in it.

Himiko woke up moments later, finding herself curled up to Kiyo and realizing she’d been the one to start being so close. An impulsive thought she wasn’t awake enough to second guess herself. It was odd, how they seemed to be more awake but didn’t leave her.

They sat up and said “Good morning. Sleep well?”

She followed suit and rubbed the gunk out of her eyes. “Yeah. I… hope waking up like that didn’t bother you. I-”

“It doesn’t”

She was ready to profusely apologize so hearing that took a moment to process. “Huh?”

“It was quite nice. It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything as warm as that.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Should I be?”

“Well… no, and I kinda liked it too.” she said shyly, turning to sit down on the edge of the bed, putting some distance between them. “You doing anything today?”

Kiyo consulted their chip again. “No work today, we’ll be hanging out with some people from my crew this afternoon.”

“I look forward to it. I needed a bit of a vacation its just…” she sighed.

“How it happened wasn’t desirable?”

Himiko laughed. “That’s an understatement. It actually sucks so much.” crying broke through and took over. It took almost half a day for what happened to even really sink in. “Everything sucks so fucking much.”

Kiyo offered some tissue from the bedside drawer and Himiko took it, thanking them.

[thebadbatch]

The Bad Batch: Soft Universe

Chapter Five - Cure. 

Omega took a small breath in as she rubbed her eyes before she turned and faced her brothers who looked absolutely terrified. She had no idea what had happened, the last thing that she remembered was playing with those beautiful flowers that were now one-hundred percent her favourite flower.

Darker clouds soon moved over her mind as she watched them all ensure she was alive and okay which was a really upsetting thing to see. Did another bounty hunter attempt to take her life from her once again? Hunter's eyes were glazed over and so were Techs who swore he was cursed due to everything always going wrong when he was around. 

"Hunter?" She questioned, resulting in the others stopping exactly what they were doing to stare at her once her Kamonion thick accent piped up. "I'm sorry, did another bounty hunter come after me?" At the question alone even Echo couldn't help but tear up. After everything she's been through with anyone and going against her wanting the innocent and small life-form dead, She still apologized because she thought she caused hassle or problems for her brothers. "Did I get any of you hurt?" 

"No, no Ad'ika!" Hunter finally spoke after sending silent thanks-filled prayers to their maker. "Nothing like that happened. None of us are hurt - we're okay." He reassured her with a gentle hand upon her shoulder before she tried to sit up only to gently be pushed down again by Echo, a sympathetic gaze upon his face. 

"Woah there kid, lay down for a little longer okay?" Omega Pouted a little before complying with his gentle request. Hunter turned his head, pointing at Tech.

"Run a medical scan on her, tell me anything that's out of the ordinary even if it's no cause for concern." Tech nodded, rushing to the side to grab his medical scanner and following through with their command his leader had given him. "Wrecker, can she borrow Lola? And could you grab her blanket too?" Hunter began to fuss even more over her before Crosshair placed a hand on his shoulder too, hoping for the same calming effect it gave Omega. 

"But I feel fine!" She beamed up at them, telling the truth all whilst giving Hunter some much needed comfort and reassurance. "I had such a lovely dream too."  The med scan beeped leaving Tech to go over all of the information it had given him.

"A dream?" Echo asked, standing beside Hunter to listen to what Omega had to say. 

"Yeah!" Her voice was filled with Positivity, she truly didn't remember what had happened to her beside a dream that took priority over her mind. "It was scary at first, but then those glowing orbs came back and they were so pretty! A hooded man was there though wearing a Cloak but he was so kind and asked me about my brothers- you guys!" Wrecker returned, placing Lula in her arms and her favourite blanket over her before standing with the others. "Thank you, Wrecker!"

"What did he say to you, Omega?" Hunter asked, ensuring she was tucked in and comfortable.

"Well I told him how lovely you all are to me and how happy I am now being away from Kamino and living with my true family!" They all silently swore that they could break down into tears. "He said he's so happy to hear that I'm happy now, and he said that you're all Incredible individuals! But then he told me that something big was calling me and I needed to listen and train with the sound to guide me."

"Guide you?" Echo chuckled a bit, "It Sounds Like jedi talk to me." He was kidding, attempting to lighten the atmosphere but then he remembered his previous generals who were force wielders having similar experiences to this. That realisation soon wiped the smile off of his face.

"He told me that it would all become clear soon and to trust myself but then I woke up with you guys." Tech walked over the second that she finished her story,

"She's completely healthy, in fact she's healthier now than before." He moved toward her, gently gesturing to the bacta patch that still remained against her arm. "May I check on your recovery?" She nodded, grateful that the bacta suppressed any pain from the bullet wound. Tech hesitantly but carefully removed the patch, going a little pale as there wasn't a scratch on her arm. "You must have accelerated healing," He was saying that mainly to reassure himself as her medical records from Kamino that they had stolen a while ago clearly stated she hadn't been created with accelerated healing as she was never to leave Kamino." The records made sense but Omega clashed with every little bit of information they had. It was pretty impossible to find out why she was created so they could find her enhanced skill finally but Tech especially at this point was pretty desperate to discover what she  had.

"Maybe those plant things healed her or something?" Wrecker questioned, looking toward Tech for an answer.

"Dalalians." He reminded his brother, unable to stop himself from correcting even the smallest of mistakes after shaking his head. "That's impossible, they have no healing properties. The only 'use' they hold, if you'd even consider it as such, is that it tastes like honey." 

"The records must be wrong." Hunter spoke, "We need to get new Copies - the most recent data they had before - well, you know." Silence filled their physical realm but their minds were asking tons of questions about the whole scenario.

"AzI would know!" She responded rather proudly, very fond of her best friend. "He has all of my medical records, but he's offline still, remember?" Once they got AZI, tech had never actually seen the specific circuits that he had so he constantly tinkered trying to work himself around it and do as much research as possible but they never really had the time. Omega didn't mind though, her friend was still on board with her other droid and having him there knowing they could wake him one day kept her calm. 

"I don't think I can wake him up right now but I may be able to get him to display the medical records we need." She hummed, snuggling into her blankets. Hunter crouched beside where Omega lay cuddling with Lula, 

"Do you remember what they were testing you for?" He asked, keeping his tone as calm as possible knowing how sensitive such a subject was. 

"But why do we want to find out?" Omega asked, panic residing behind her voice. "I'm fine, I feel fine can't we just leave it? What even happened?" Echo soon Moved over to her, Placing a hand against her shoulder.

" Hey kid,it's alright! We just saw you go a little funny whilst you were having that dream and we think it may be linked with your enhanced skill." Her eyes immoderately softened at this, her heart rate finally calming causing Hunter to sigh of relief.

"It is?" Wrecker asked, oblivious to what Echo actually meant. 

"It is." Echo repeated before Smiling back down at his little sister. "Now, can you think back really hard to remember what they were resting you for?" Her eyes sparkled proudly, suppressing any sorrow she felt from the memories back at Kamino. 

"No, I remember - but they Said what they were trying didn't work so they'd give me a new one." She paused for a brief moment in thought. "I thought they forgot to give me a new one though, So I was hoping you guys would help me find what they may have given me. I want to be like you guys." Even Crosshair's heart broke at her words before he began to talk.

"What did they Originally test you for? Maybe it worked hence why they never gave you another enhanced skill." All of the others gently agreed before gazing at Omega, waiting to see what her answer was.

"I was to become the first force-sensitive Clone but it hurt me so they had to stop because I got too weak." Mouths were agape as they stared at her. What they witnessed, was that the force? Is that why the Empire suddenly wants her? Because it worked. Tech instantly moved away to search for answers through his datapad against force-sensitive beings. 

"The Force?" Hunter repeated, looking toward Echo for answers. "Echo, you're worked with countless jedi before. Could it be possible?" He thought for a while before nodding.

"I think it could be done and the Empire wants to bring the same power to their fleet. They'd be unstoppable." He breathed in before Tech soon interrupted him.

"Omega, what you saw - the person." He stammered, "Were they blue by any chance?" She smiled over at him with a nod. "And they mentioned something guiding you right?" Another nod from her followed once again. "Yeah, she's force sensitive." How didn't they find this out sooner? Probably because it's only just begun to work, whatever they did to her." Silence hung heavily after his sentence, anger lurking in her older brothers as she hugged Lula with a smile - not as bothered right now about her past. Omega was a force-sensitive clone, the first of her kind! And she was absolutely thrilled because maybe now she would feel useful to her brothers, helping them in missions and keeping them safe. Yeah, that's exactly what she wanted to do - but her brothers didn't seem so pleased about that. 

"Hey, Ad'Ika." Hunter spoke, whispering to her. "How about you get some rest and we can see your skills tomorrow hm?" His voice was soothing as she yawned, tired out hours ago but continued to push herself awake to be with them a little longer. 

"Alright…" She hummed without fuss as he picked her up with her gentle good night's to the others and carried her to her bed, laying her down with a small smile. "Do I need a cure?" She asked sleepily, snuggling down with her trooper doll with that familiar soothing tone of orange filling the smaller room.

"For what, Omega?" He asked, worried a little. "For your abilities?" She hummed a yes, her eyes beginning to shut. "No, Ad'Ika. You don't, you're amazing and incredible and we couldn't be who we are without you okay? These powers of yours are a part of you and we cherish them deeply. We just need to find out a little more, okay?" Unfortunately she had fallen asleep through his words, head gently smooshed against the pillow and blankets gripped in her fists. Softly, he climbed down the smaller ladder and pulled back the curtain so she could rest. The talc with his brothers would be intense and confusing, but he knew they would figure it out - anything out. She didn't need a cure, it's apart of her. 

[tsarisfanfiction]

Desert Sands: Part 4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, John, Alan, EOS

Oops, been a little while since I last posted anything so I thought I’d chuck some more of this one out into the void...  I’m still not done writing this one but that’s the fault of the other fic I’m attempting to work on (which keeps throwing me into stumbling blocks at the moment, which is super annoying). 

<<<Part 3

John’s knees jarred when he made the jump from the top of the space elevator to the hot sands below.  In front of him, the large monstrosity of an EMP generator loomed and he stumbled across to it, running his eyes over the control panel.  No Thunderbird Five, no EOS.  No communications at all.  It was just John and the EMP generator, alone for over a hundred miles in each direction. By the time Thunderbird Two returned, he had to have it disabled, otherwise their third and final Thunderbird designed for atmospheric flight would join her sisters in the sand.

No pressure.

The inelegant solution would be to smash it, but it was huge, towering far above him, and John didn’t have the strength nor the tools to break the entire thing.  Gritting his teeth, and wishing he had gecko gloves, he started to climb.

Behind him, the space elevator retracted, travelling at a much faster speed than it had dropped him.  Thunderbirds Five and Three must have been out of time; he’d been hoping the elevator would have been able to stay until he’d dealt with the generator, but apparently not.

He was going to need retrieving as well, but with no working communications he couldn’t contact his brothers to organise that; he’d just have to trust that they wouldn’t forget about him with the overriding priority of Scott in the fore of their minds.  At the very least, EOS shouldn’t forget about him.

But no-one was going to be retrieving him until the EMP was gone. Armed with a selection of short-circuited tools and his own brain, John reached the control panel, which glared at him tauntingly.

You can’t stop me, it jeered.  You’ll fail and die and with no-one to reach Scott, he’ll die, too. Thunderbird Two will crash, and then Alan’ll be the only one left.  International Rescue is finished.

Unfortunately for the control panel, John had long since learnt to work through doubts, facing down the odds over and over again because if there was one thing he loved more than space, it was his family, and he wasn’t going to let them down.  Not now, not ever.

They didn’t call him a genius for nothing.  A selection of short-circuited tools and his brain was all John needed to break it.

And time.  With no gear, John didn’t know how long it took before the thing gave a pathetic whine and powered off.  Just to be sure, he awkwardly scaled the entire thing, watching for fail safes and backups, breaking anything that looked remotely like it could be used to repower the EMP.  Only once he was certain the machine couldn’t possibly restart did he back away from it.

Job done.  Thunderbird Two could reach Scott now.

He flopped down onto the sands, letting gravity have its way because that was less effort than fighting it.  They were hot, even through his uniform – his short-circuited, no longer temperature-controlled uniform – and John belatedly realised he didn’t have any water with him.

Well, nothing to do now except stare at the sky and wait to be retrieved.

His retrieval was nothing like he’d anticipated.  He’d thought Thunderbird Two would fly overhead, pausing just long enough to collect him, before they carried on towards Thunderbird One and Scott.

The sight of a giant red rocket landing in the Sahara despite her pilot being told numerous times that he was going nowhere except home was a surprise, although given the situation, John couldn’t scold Alan too much.

“Drink,” his little brother ordered the moment he succeeded in clambering into the cockpit, shedding the dead exosuit and his sand-encrusted helmet. He watched Alan climb around his cockpit, fastening the discarded gear and handing him his spare helmet from Thunderbird Five as he emptied a water bottle.  “Strap in, we’re going to get Scott.”

“What about Thunderbird Two?” John asked, obeying.

“Thunderbird Two is still thirty two minutes away from Thunderbird One’s location,” EOS informed him coolly.  “Thunderbird Three will make the journey from your current location in four point eight minutes.”

“So we’re going on ahead,” Alan said, firing Thunderbird Three’s retros to get them back into the sky.  “Hold on, this might get bumpy.”

Bumpy was one way of putting it.  Thunderbird Three was most definitely not suited to flying so close to the surface of the Earth, and John watched as his youngest brother wrestled with the controls, keeping her barely on course until they reached EOS’s co-ordinates for Thunderbird One.

The expulsion of the Vernier jets blew away the light covering of sand as they passed overhead, revealing the damaged Thunderbird in all her glory.

“She’s belly down,” he observed, frowning.  That made things more awkward – with both the pilot exit and the cargo doors buried, access would have to be done by the dorsal hatch.  More clambering, wonderful.

Alan set them down alongside, and John immediately disembarked, trawling through the sand to the other Thunderbird.  Her hull was scorching hot to the touch, even through his uniform, and he grimaced as he clambered up, using dents as hand and foot holds until he reached the dorsal hatch.

It was jammed shut because of course it was.

Behind him came a clunk, clunk, and he turned back to see Alan using his magnets to clamber the hull, a bag over his shoulder.

“Here,” the blond said, nudging him out of the way.  “I’ll cut the hatch.”  In his hands was his hand-laser, usually referred to by the teenager as a tin opener.  He wasn’t calling it that this time, clearly as aware as John that it was one of their own ships they were slicing open.

As soon as the dorsal hatch surrendered, John was through, dropping down into the confines of Thunderbird One.  He was dismayed to find that the air inside the ship was just as hot as outside, if not more so – clearly the EMP had knocked all of Thunderbird One’s temperature controls out, leaving the metal hull to conduct and amplify the unforgiving heat of the desert even inside.  It was also pitch black; even the emergency lighting had fallen victim to the EMP.

John fumbled with glowsticks, snapping them and illuminating the interior of the Thunderbird in a sickly green glow.  That observation, however, paled against the unmoving form slumped underneath the pilot seat, face down.

“Scott!” he exclaimed, picking his way forward and crouching on the broken glass that had once been the viewing window-come-pilot access.  His brother didn’t react, and with a sinking feeling he realised that the visor of the helmet had broken.  Blood had congealed on Scott’s face, the source unidentifiable from John’s angle, but more concerning was the sand invading through the broken window and helmet, peppering Scott’s lips and plastered to his face.

Scott’s eyes were closed.

“John?”  Alan dropped in behind him, and made a noise of shocked distress.  “Scott?”

“Did you bring a medical scanner from Thunderbird Three?” John asked, not daring to take his eyes off his fallen brother.  One appeared in his view, the gloved hand that held it not quite steady, and he accepted it, immediately setting it to assess Scott for injuries. “Find out how far out Thunderbird Two is.”

He tuned Alan out as the teenager started talking into his comm, glaring at the scanner and willing it to work faster.  Out of all of them, he had the least medical training – there was less of a need for it when he so rarely took part in rescues – but it was clear even to him that Scott likely had a concussion, and considering how hot it was inside Thunderbird One, they’d be lucky if they only had to worry about heat exhaustion.

Even heat exhaustion would be bad enough, but before John could touch him he had to make sure there were no other injuries – especially internal ones – that could be worsened by movement.

While he waited for it to finish, he glanced up at the seat above them. The restraints should have prevented Scott from falling out of his seat, even if he’d fallen unconscious, but they were lifted.  That was odd, unless…

“Scott?” he called again, resting a hand lightly on his brother’s left shoulder as the medical scan showed up nothing majorly wrong with it – some nasty bruising was in Scott’s future, if it wasn’t already starting, but that was all. There was still no answer.

“They’re ten minutes out,” Alan reported, coming up next to him and crouching down in the broken glass.  “How is he?”

“Scan’s still working,” John shrugged, watching the holographic copy of his prone brother appear piece by piece above him, red warning lights flashing up near the right shoulder.  Oranges and yellows dotted the rest of his body; to John’s relief, his bleeding head was only flagged yellow – whatever impact it had taken had obviously been mostly absorbed by the broken helmet.  Heart rate was also flagged up as too slow, while his body temperature declared one oh four and still rising.

“I’ll get a blanket,” Alan said, standing back up and heading for one of the many lockers that decorated Thunderbird One’s interior.  John heard the hiss of the manual release and then Alan was back, laying the blanket down next to their brother.

“Good thinking,” John praised, zooming in on the results of the shoulder and wincing.  Right, that made things a little more complicated, but they needed Scott on his back to best fight the heat exhaustion.  It was only the one issue, however, and John sent a quick prayer of thanks to their Mom for Scott’s comparative lack of injury before directing Alan to Scott’s legs.  “Roll him on three.  One… two… three!”

Scott wasn’t the lightest fairy in the world, and John was hyper aware of the broken collarbone as he guided his brother’s torso over, keeping an eye on the suit for any sign that the bone had broken the skin.

There was a quiet groan as they got him settled on the blanket, John carefully detaching the remains of the helmet and clearing broken fragments away from his face.

“Scott?” he tried again, lightly brushing the sand away from where sweat had stuck it to his brother’s face.  Eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.  “Alan, we have to get his temperature down.”

“Already on it.”  A cutter was pressed into his hands.  “Get as much of his uniform off as you can while I get the cool packs working.”  John didn’t stop to think, the powerful tool sheering through the baldric at the shoulder, hip and thigh to remove the grey material and reveal the full extent of the blue flight suit Scott wore.

Considering the relative minority of Scott’s injuries, John was very grateful to that flight suit.  However, it had done its job, and he didn’t hesitate to pull the zipper down and re-engage the cutter to lop parts of the uniform off.  It was sticky with sweat, despite Brains designing it to be anti-sweat, and John sacrificed a moment to remove his own gloves from his dead suit. Scott was cool and clammy to the touch, but it was easier to feel the rise and fall of his chest which, even if it was rather slow, reassured them that he was still with them.

John had every intention of making sure he didn’t leave them.

Part 5>>>

[k-writer1998]

The Glitch

Prompt fic: cyborg! jisung x handler! reader

angst

w.c: 1.3k

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

“Y/n?”

      The broker? This can’t be good, he knows not to call when I’m on the job and there was only one thing I’ve specified as urgent.

“Can’t talk, I’m already inside and approaching targets. Speak quickly.”

“A Minho called for you. Said Jisung’s system relapsed and you needed to find him.”

      Hanging up, I cursed at myself for turning off my comms for this job. I need to find him, NOW. My system mapped out the fastest way to Jisung’s location and luckily the fastest exit was through the front door. Cocking my gun I charged in and took out the targets, haphazardly throwing down the message the client wanted to leave on one of the bodies, before bolting. These were the times I was thankful for being a cyborg, most days I hate the fact especially what that change has done to the people I love.

      A “glitch” they called it. It was more like a virus if you ask me. The glitch affected our cores and disrupted our memory processors, forcing a system relapse at random. Five of ten were found to be glitched in the lab during assimilation training. The company couldn’t afford the risk so they were going to scrap us but we escaped. From then on we relied on each other to survive and we learned what that system relapse meant. Sometimes their memories are reset to when they first became cyborgs, other times only their emotions are reset and that is when it’s the most dangerous. Humans don’t like things that are different, it is a fact that cyborgs are taught to understand and accept. The reset meant that training didn’t exist anymore. The anger fueled by the ostracization from society and the strength from our biotic parts made us a threat that humans wouldn’t hesitate to kill because we were nothing more than machines to them. We learned this when the first glitched. From then those of us who weren’t glitched became handlers of those who were, aside from Minho who had taken on the responsibility to cover our tracks. Chan with Felix, Seungmin with Hyunjin, Changbin to Jeongin, and me to Jisung. 

      As I ran my system scanned the surrounding areas' police scanners, praying Jisung wasn’t on them. Luckily the coast was clear and he seemed sedentary in his current position. Not knowing how long that would last or how bad the relapse was this time, I continued to push my human parts past its limits. Red warning lights flashed in my mind at my depleting oxygen levels but I was almost to him so I couldn’t slow down. When I arrived at the outskirts of town my body gasped for breath but my eyes searched around for Jisung. When he did come into view he was too still amongst the rubble of whatever city stood here before the war, too quiet for the Han Jisung I knew so well. I treaded carefully, not wanting to be too loud or move to quick and spook him.

“Jisung…”

“That was a lot faster than I predicted y/n.”

      He turned to look at me with a smile but it was hollow. He remembers me so that meant it was the worst case scenario. Emotion reset. Jisung has been getting these more often than the others who were blessed enough to forget the glitch. To have to remember everything yet still feel as scared as a newborn chick… The weakness seeped into his voice as he asked the question he asked every time he reset and I sadly gave him the same answer I always give him.

“Why do I have to be like this?”

“I don’t know Jisung,” I softly answered.

“Do you ever regret saving me?”

“Never.”

“Even after all the times you’ve had to replace your parts… and when you end up in the hospi-”

“Not even once,” I cut him off.

      Because I love you… the words sat on the tip of my tongue and once again I had to bite them back. Things wouldn’t have ended well if they did escape me, I’ve learned the hard way and that was the one and only time I was thankful for the glitch. His heart is too big, he doesn’t dare accept love. Not when he has deemed himself as “broken,” if only he understood the importance he holds in my life but instead he just feels guilt. It’s in his eyes, lurking there even after the relapse has long passed. I’ve told him countless times that I am willingly by his side, a desperate attempt at getting him to understand that being “broken” doesn’t mean he had to be alone. It falls on deaf ears though, how can he believe in himself when he has no control over it? That’s the part he hates the most and there is nothing I can do other than let the weight of my words sink in, hoping one day he’ll see there’s more to him than the glitch like I do. I silently looked over the ruins to let the turmoil of Jisung’s mind play through until he was ready to break the silence.

“Why can’t this be fixed like all our other mechanical problems?”

“It’s too close to the core, it would cause permanent damage to your humanity.”

“Humanity?” He scoffs, “Why do I even need that when I’m no longer considered a human?”

“Because that’s a part of you that makes you the person you are.”

      And no matter how much you hate it right now, you would never want to give it up. I promised you on that clear starry night I wouldn’t let you destroy the only thing you love about yourself, but it’s the anger and fear talking right now. The emotions are building up out of his control and soon they’ll start to spill out.

“The glitch too?”

“Jisung you know the glitch isn’t who you are, it’s a fluke.”

“Then why does it have to be me that has that fluke?! It hurts y/n. It hurts to feel so angry at the world and feel so scared to be different… but why is it that I keep remembering? Why can’t I just forget like the others? I hate this constant war in my head and I hate having to feel this over and over again.” 

      In these situations I couldn’t say anything, I never could. By then I was beside Jisung and although I wanted to grab his hand, my own along with my head started to twitch out of my control. I’ve overheated my systems getting here and now that my human parts have stabilized now the mechanical ones needed to. He cast a sideways glance and noticed, a dry chuckle falling from his lips in response. Although his next words were said nonchalantly, I didn’t miss the unmistakable tremble in his voice.

"We're already screwed up. Why can't we at least have fun?"

      As he turned to fully look at me now, his smile grew and his robotic eye glowed a faint blue as tears streamed down his face. Even though I didn’t know the pain of glitching, my heart breaks every time I see that empty look in his eyes. The look of him just giving up. I wish there existed a God or some higher being who could answer this desperate prayer, please just take the glitch from Jisung and give it to me… but alas there are no miracles so what’s the point? We will continue to live as we have, repeating the cycle and feeling our own pain from this ill-fated relationship. Fun… I knew what that meant but I also knew better that to stop him, once his mind is set he’ll do it. With or without me. A sad smile that mirrored his own pulled across my lips, if you can’t beat them join them.

“Sure… let’s have some fun.”

      I knew where this would lead us, it happens every time he remembers. Jisung was about to go on a quest to destroy himself and I’m going to stop him, whatever the cost, because love makes people do stupid things. Too bad love can’t fix everything like in the fairy tales, maybe the we could’ve been happier.

[avis-writeshq]

Billy Batson x Mute! Reader

Requested: Nope

Pairing: Billy Batson x Fem!Mute!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, and trash writing… OH AND SPOILERS!!!!!

Other: I’m not sure how old Billy was in the movie, so Imma make it 15.

Word count: 7,228                                                                                            

 Things you probably wanna know, for all you ‘x reader’ illiterates:

(Y/N): Your Name

(H/C): Hair Colour / Color

(E/C): Eye Colour / Color

(N/N): Nickname

 ***

The opening and closing of the front door brought you out of your books and you heard Rosa’s voice echo through the building. Snapping your book closed and tucking it under your arm, you made your way down the stairs, hearing Eugene’s voice soon after. He must be playing another one of those video games. Rolling your eyes, you took a few more steps into the kitchen, Darla running right past you.

“Is that him? Oh, my gosh, Billy!” Darla exclaimed, running forward and wrapping her arms around the boy’s waist, ignoring Victor’s warning of slowing down.

“And that’s Darla,” Rosa chuckled.

“I’m Darla,” the girl grinned up at him, her thick glasses sliding down her nose.

A small smile wandered onto your face as you looked upon the scene, only to have your name called moments later. “(Y/N), come say hi to Billy!”

You waved at the boy who looked to be about the same age as you, if not a little older. You plucked your notebook out of your pocket and wrote a small note to him. ‘Hello.’

“She’s mute,” Victor explained, casting you a sideways glance, “childhood trauma.”

“Oh, I didn’t…” Billy began, pity filling his eyes.

You waved off the apology before turning to Rosa. ‘Do you need help to set the table?’ You signed, a bright smile on your face.

“I’m doing it!” Darla exclaimed, pouting her lips at you before her eyes lit up, “oh yeah, the poster! I made you one! Come, look!” Tugging Billy along, Darla rushed into the dining room, you following loosely behind. “Oh, no…”

There on top of the pink paper were two extremely heavy looking weights. Underneath the weights, however, were the words ‘WELCOME HOME NEW BROTHER’ in pink glitter glue, silver rhinestones decorating the edge. “Sorry, Pedro must have been working out…” In a poor attempt to save the poster, the young girl tugged at a corner, only for it to rip. You and Rosa cringed as Darla passed the corner to Billy.

You smiled thoughtfully, signing to Darla, ‘I can fix it with tape.’

Before she could respond, Mary came walking into the room, a phone against her ear. You rubbed your arm awkwardly as Victor and Mary exchanged a few words before pulling out your notebook once more. ‘I hope you like it here.’ You wrote quickly, watching in anticipation as Billy read the note. He offered a hesitant smile before Darla asked him a question.

“Do you like vegan food? See, I love animals.” A high pitched beeping sounded from the kitchen and the young girl pushed her way past her family. “Oh, no…”

“Oh no, we might have to eat a real turkey!” Victor exclaimed before running off to help Darla.

Billy looked from you to Rosa, “is that…”

“It’s okay, come, I’ll show you to your room. (Y/N), do you wanna come?”

You nodded eagerly before following the two up the stairs, running into Pedro who said nothing. “Is he also… you know…?”

“Oh, he’s just quiet. He can talk a lot when he wants to.”

You shrugged, signing, ‘Pedro can be nice, though.’

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Billy frowned, looking sympathetically at you.

Nodding in understanding, you waved the apology off once more as Rosa continued her tour, “Freddy, this is Billy Batson. Please make him feel at home, okay? Maybe don’t say anything too weird.”

“Oh, one weird thing,” Freddy began, but you were already out the door.

***

After the Victor said his prayer at the dining table, Billy asked his dying question. “Can all of you understand sign language?”

You coughed, choking on your water. Mary looked at him, eyebrow raised. Eugene huffed at him, holding onto your arm (out of the other kids, he was most attached to you). Pedro was indifferent while Freddy looked insulted, and Darla… well, Darla slapped his arm. “That’s rude, Billy!”

‘It’s ok,’ you wrote, ‘I’m used to it.’

You nodded at Rosa, who quickly explained. “Victor and I knew sign language before we met (Y/N). It was just by chance that we happened to adopt her. She’s a sweet girl, Billy, she’s not that bad.”

“I know, I just wanted to ask,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, (Y/N).”

‘Don’t worry abt it,’ you wrote quickly, ‘I’m fine.’

***

School the next morning was the same as any other day. You got teased, picked on, mocked, the whole shebang. But today was special. After all, Billy was joining the school and you finally had someone to talk to. Or rather, just to hang out with. Sure, there was Freddy, but all he talked about was superheroes and pop culture, and that was enough to bore anyone. At some point, you had to just drone him out with a note that asked, ‘did you do the maths HW?’ to get him to shut up.

You walked silently into the school while Darla explained things. “This is our security scanner,” she said, taking her bag off, “like in an airport. It’s totally safe.”

“I know what it is,” Billy said awkwardly before turning to you, Pedro and Eugene who were standing behind him. “Is she always like this?”

The three of you nodded in confirmation and you shot Eugene a warning glare as he continued to play on his phone.

“Signs make me uncomfortable,” the little girl continued.

“She’s almost never uncomfortable,” Eugene responded, only to have his arm flicked. “Hey!”

‘Don’t be mean,’ you signed and the boy huffed.

Walking into the hallway, Darla attacked Billy with a hug around the legs. “Have a good first day, big brother!”

“Look, you don’t have to hug me all the time,” the brunet said, pulling away from the embrace, before crouching down to eye-level. “We’re not actually brother and sister, so…”

It pained you to see the disappointment in the girl’s eyes as she looked downcast. “Oh… I’m sorry,” she whispered softly and Billy’s smile evaporated.

Darla turned around and walked down the hall, Freddy noticing her immediately. “Hey!”

“Hey…”

He wrapped his free arm over her shoulders, Billy calling out, “I didn’t mean to make her-”

Freddy just shrugged before walking Darla down to her class. ‘Don’t worry,’ you wrote on your paper, ‘Darla is a strong girl. Ik you’re not too fond w us.’

“I didn’t mean to make her cry,” the boy repeated himself, a frown on his face.

‘Let’s just go to class, ok?’

“Yeah, okay.”

Lunch came around and you sat beside Billy at a lunch table, eating you gross cafeteria food. The two of you sat at lone table, as per usual, when Freddy limped towards the table. “Flight or invisibility?” He demanded as he sat down, roughly placing his tray of food on the table. He dropped his crutch and turned to face you and Billy. When no answer came from either of you, he asked again, “if you could have one superpower, flight or invisibility? What would you pick?” Not letting you answer, Freddy began to ramble. “Everyone chooses flight! You know why?”

“So they could fly away from this conversation?” Billy asked sarcastically and you snickered from beside him.

“No, ‘cause heroes fly,” Freddy said, ignoring his statement. Billy rolled his eyes and went to stand up. “And- and, who doesn’t want people to think they’re a hero, right?” He continued to talk as Billy left the table, “but invisibility, no way, I mean, that’s pervy! Spying around on people who don’t even know you’re there? Sneaking around everywhere, that’s a total villain power, right?!” He yelled out the last words and the cafeteria turned silent as all heads turned towards him. Freddy huffed, grabbing his food and his crutch before chasing after his new brother.

“No,” you whispered under your breath, eyes on your food, “no one wants to be invisible because it hurts.”

“Hey, hey, hey, look who it is! Our second favourite foster child to pick on!” An oh-so annoying voice exclaimed. You didn’t need to turn around to see who it is.

“Wait, so who’s our first?” Burke asked his brother, smirk on his face.

“Freddy, of course, you brother of mine!” Brett snickered, “what are you gonna do, cry? What, are you sad you don’t have a real family?”

The two boys let out a laugh, high-fiving each other before leaving you alone. For some reason, if you could choose between flight and invisibility, you would choose flight. Then you’ll have both powers.

School came and went, and you walked beside Darla as you walked down the stairs. “How was your day, (Y/N)?”

‘Same as usual,’ you signed.

You looked to the front, only to see a car almost run Freddy over. You let out a scream, grabbing Darla’s hand and whipping Eugene’s phone away from him. Ignoring his cries of protest, you ran over to where Freddy was, helping him up. The car doors opened up to reveal Brett and Burke Breyer. You held in a groan.

“What the hell?” Mary snapped, “What is wrong with you two?”

Brett scoffed, pushing Freddy against the car with his shirt. “No way that’s gonna buff out.”

“You gonna pay for this, Freeman?”

“For the dent you made almost hitting me? Yeah, sure, you take these?” He pointed his middle finger in the air and you slapped your palm against your forehead. The boys let out sarcastic chuckles as they pushed your foster brother to the ground, relentlessly kicking him in the stomach.

“Brett, stop!” Mary yelled.

“Don’t touch my brother!” Darla cried.

“What, you need your fake family to stand up for you?” Burke laughed.

“Stand up for yourself, Freeman,” Brett laughed.

“Here, Freeman, stand up for yourself!” Burke snickered, shoving the crutch in Freddy’s face mockingly.

“What about you, (L/N)? Can’t do anything for your ‘brother’, can you?” Brett sneered.

“Leave him alone…” you mustered, feeling eyes at the back of your head.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Leave him alone!” You yelled, only to be pushed by Burke to the ground. You let out a cry when he kicked you in the stomach, trying to use your arms to block the blows.

“Pathetic,” he muttered before turning back to Freddy.

“What are you gonna do, go home and cry to mommy?” Brett taunted, bending down. “Oh, yeah, you don’t have a mommy!”

You got up to pull Brett away from Freddy, but apparently you didn’t have to. “Hey.” A voice sounded, and Burke turned around only to be hit in the face with Freddy’s crutch. Hitting Brett in the crown-jewels, Billy let out a sarcastic snicker. “Man, sorry about that. That wasn’t fair, but then again, you don’t fight fair.”

Burke let out a scowl, pushing Billy against the car and punching him harshly in the stomach. “Back off, ass-bags, I know how to use these!” Eugene snatched the nun chucks from Burke’s pocket and whipped them around before hitting himself with them.

Billy took the distraction and bolted away from the scene, the bullies about to start chasing them.

“Stop!” You screamed, pulling Brett back by his jacket.

He scowled at you, “let go, bitch!” he kicked you in the shin before running off to chase after Billy.

You whimpered in pain, clutching your shim as the boys left your view. “Freddy!” Your eyes lit up in remembrance, and tried your best to help him up.

“Take it easy,” Mary said while Pedro, Eugene and Darla helped Freddy up.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, but you knew a bruise would start to form from where they hit you. Boy, did you hope Billy was okay.

***

You buried you head in your knees, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. The others were downstairs; Rosa was calling the police while Eugene and Mary were trying to find Billy online. Darla sat beside Mary, working hard on another craft project, while Pedro was doing… something.

If only you were stronger than this. Maybe if you had the strength to do something, Billy wouldn’t have run away. You wiped your face with your jumper sleeve, your eyes filling up with tears once more. Memories filled your head from before Rosa and Victor adopted you, and you choked back a sob.  You whimpered, clutching your stomach that Rosa had wrapped in bandages; there was already a purplish bruise growing at the surface.

‘You’re weak.’ A voice echoed from the back of your head. ‘You can’t even speak.’

“Yes I can…”

‘It’s your fault mom isn’t here anymore. It’s your fault dad is dead.’

***

“You’re a bastard!”

“Lauren, how much did you have to drink?”

You crouched down from behind the bookshelf, a frown on your face. Why wasn’t dad looking for you?

“You have some nerve showing up! How’s your little mistress, Soren? How is she?!” Your mother let out a scream, the weapon in her hands shaking.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be an idiot! You’ve been seeing her, haven’t you?! That’s why you show up late every day!”

“Lauren, I’m not cheating on you.”

“LIAR!” And that was all you heard when a deafening bang echoed around the house. Everything was happening in slow motion; the bullet made its way to meet your father’s chest, and your mother was screaming. Or maybe that was you. Maybe you were the one who was screaming, whether it be from fear, sadness, or shock. You heard sirens in the distance, and you heard the gun in your mother’s hands clatter to the floor.

“Hey, are you alright?” You burst into tears.

 “I would like to call the prime witness, (Y/N) (L/N), the defendant and victim’s daughter.”

‘Just tell the truth,’ you repeated the words the prosecutor had told you.

“Who hurt your dad, (Y/N)?” The prosecutor asked, fixing up his cravat.

You frowned, recalling the incident. “Mommy did.”

“SHE’S LYING!” Lauren screamed when the judge gave his conviction, “YOU’RE A LIAR, (Y/N)! YOU’RE A DISAPPOINTMENT! YOU’RE A TERRIBLE DAUGHTER!”

The tears that cascaded down your face dropped on the floor, and you felt a hand on your shoulder. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Will it, Mr. Miles?”

“Let’s get you home.”

***

You snapped out of your flashback when you heard a creaking on the stairs. “Billy?”

You didn’t hear an answer when you heard a thunder crack, cutting out the power. You let out a shriek, falling backwards on your bed when you heard footsteps at the door. “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

“Freddy? Is that you?” Using your phone’s flash as a torch, you guided yourself to the door. “Billy!” You threw your arms around him before quickly pulling away. “Sorry, I forgot you didn’t like hugs,” you mumbled before slapping your mouth with a hand.

Freddy awkwardly patted Billy on the shoulder, before retreating to his room.

You turned to leave, when the brunet grabbed you by the arm. “Hey, I’m sorry for today. Did I worry you?” Opening and closing your mouth like a fish, all could do was nod. Tears began to brim your eyes and Billy began to panic. “Oh no, please don’t cry, I don’t wanna make two girls cry in the same day.” You manage a small giggle before going to pull your notebook from your pocket when Billy stopped you again. “Please talk to me.”

“Okay.”

***

You sat cross-legged on your bed, Billy sitting on your wheelie-chair at your desk. “It’s been a while since I had someone to talk to.”

“No offense, but I though you couldn’t talk,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“None taken. Like Victor said, childhood trauma. I mean, seeing your dad get murdered is pretty big, don’t you think?”

“Your dad was murdered?”

“My mom killed him. Had too much to drink and pew, pew, pew. One second dad was playing hide and seek with me, the next he was on the floor bleeding while mom was being arrested. I was the main witness in the murder, so I had to stand at the witness stand. You know what she said to me as she was being dragged away?”

“What?”

“She said I was a disappointment and a terrible daughter,” you fell back on the bed, a long sigh escaping you. “Ever since then, I was too scared to talk in fear of ruining someone else’s life. Rosa and Victor changed that for me.” You let out a little yawn.

“You sound tired. Maybe you should go to bed.”

“Who knows when I can talk to you again?” You mumbled, your eyelids drooping.

“(Y/N), you can talk to me anytime.”

“Yay… we’re friends!”

“We always were.”

***

Fast forward a few days later, you were at the mall buying Christmas gifts. It was after school and you had dropped off your things at home. You still hadn’t bought anything for your family which, to you, was a pretty big problem. You were just buying yourself a muffin when you heard screaming coming in all directions. Within seconds, the glass roof of the mall had shattered, showering people with glass. People were running in different directions when you heard it.

“Billy!” Oh no.

You whipped around, only to see Freddy being attacked by a flying man. Wait, what? Doing your best to do it quietly, you followed them, creeping behind them as the man flew, holding Freddy by his hoodie.

“Billy,” the man growled, pushing Freddy roughly against a locker. You flinched at the sound, concealing yourself behind the door. The man took his sunglasses off, revealing a glowing blue ball where his right eye should be.

“S-super villain,” Freddy stuttered, “Super villain! Super villain!”

“Worse. Much worse.”

The boy began to ramble, “I won’t let you read my mind; my mind is blank!”

Banging Freddy’s head against the locker, the man sneered. “I don’t have to read your mind, because you are going to tell me. Where is he?”

Dark grey mist filled the room, slowly turning into figures. Three figures were there, one with huge bat-like wings, another with spikes covering its body, and another with a long slimy tongue. “HELP! HELP!” Freddy screamed, trying to pull away.

“If you don’t tell me,” the man said slowly, the creatures advancing towards the two, “they’ll kill you.”

The one with the tongue crept closer and was about to gnaw on Freddy’s arm, when you screamed. “STOP IT! STOP! He did nothing!”

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), get away from here, leave! (Y/N), get out!”

“Oh, if it isn’t another brave hero,” The man jeered, “(Y/N), was it? Word of advice: leave before I make you.”

“Let Freddy go! Take me instead!”

“Only if I get what I want.”

“(Y/N), get out, Billy would never forgive me if-” Freddy slapped a hand over his mouth when he realised what he had done.

“So our little champion has a girlfriend.” The man flew over to you and you cowered against the wall. “Tell me where I can find Billy.”

“Never!” You spat.

“I’ll tell you where it is if you let her go!” Freddy exclaimed.

“Tell me first,” he bargained, “then I’ll let her go.”

“208 (random street). Now let her go.”

Without saying anything, one of the locker doors opened up revealing a haunted temple. The creature hissed at you before being absorbed back into the man’s body, not without the winged one pushing Freddy to floor. The man grabbed you by the neck, cutting off your air supply, before taking hold of Freddy. You and Freddy were carried through the door, when the man pushed you against the ground, kicking at the bruise on your stomach. You gasped in pain while Freddy let out a scream.

“You said you’ll let her go!”

“I lied.”

The man threw you against the wall and the last thing you saw was him taking a struggling Freddy through the door before your vision became blurry and all you could see was black.

***

The door of a foster home was knocked on, and Freddy could hear the excitement from behind the door. “Freddy?” Darla asked upon seeing her brother with a tall bald man.

“Oh, how quaint!” Sivana watched as Mary pushed her brothers behind her. He took his glasses off. “Actually, I take that back. What a shithole.”

“Freddy, where’s (Y/N)?” Eugene demanded, as he was forced to sit on the couch.

“I don’t know.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them while Sivana gave a sneer.

Taking out a black phone from his pocket, the mad doctor called a very specific number. “Come home, Billy. Come home.”

From the other side of the line, Billy could hear the screams of his family. Running up the stairs of his birth-mother’s apartment, he made his way to the roof. Without thinking twice, he jumped. “SHAZAM!”

***

You let out a gasp in pain, and you felt as if you were electrocuted. Your head was pounding and you felt as if your chest was on fire. This was not how you expected things to go. Then again, what were you expecting? Nothing less from a super-villain. You tried your best to get up, clutching your stomach in pain. Where in the world were you?

The dark walls of the temple seemed to loom over you, and you did your best to crane your head. A few ways in front of you were 7 large chairs, tall and regal. Thrones? Why the hell would someone need 7 thrones? You grunted as you made your way towards them, stepping over a glowing staff. Boy, did you hope they were comfy. When you sat upon one of the thrones, memories flooded into your head. Freddy. What happened to him? What about you family; are they safe? And what did that man want with Billy? That’s when it hit you.

The supervillain wanted Billy. He wanted him for one sole purpose. Another thought wandered into your head. “Nah, he can’t be gay.” So why… “Billy’s the power guy from YouTube.”

“(Y/N)…” A voice echoed. “Get up from the throne.”

You flinched, looking up. “Who’s there?”

“Get up from the throne.”

Panic coursed through your veins but you did as you were told. “Where are you?”

With a flash of blinding light, red embers were before you, in the shape of an old man. The staff that was once on the floor was in the man’s hand and you stepped backwards in shock. “Do not be afraid.”

You couldn’t speak. It seemed as if there was a force constricting your throat, preventing you from speaking. All you could do was nod.

“I am the wizard who gave Billy Batson his powers.”

“Is he okay?” You blurted, clapping a hand over your mouth.

“He will be fine. But you will not be. Sivana had cracked a rib and if it is not treated, you can die.” You watched as the embers brought its hand to the front, the staff glowing powerfully. “Put a hand on the staff and I will heal you.”

You glanced at the staff sceptically. “Are you sure you’re the expert on this?”

“Hand on the staff, (Y/N) (L/N), before it is too late.”

“Why am I so important?”

“You will bring the champion both his rise and his destruction. Without you, there is no Billy Batson.” Impatiently, he thrust the staff towards you. “Hand on the staff.”

“Okay, okay!” You did as you were told.

“Asclepius, tin therapefsei apo tis pliges tis! Tis doste ti dynsmi ns therspefsei o, ti synanta!” (Asclepius, heal her of her wounds! Give her the power to heal all she meets!) Lightning seemed to engulf you as the man said these words and you felt your rib, stomach and head tingle with warmth. Your eyes snapped opened to fond that the man was no longer there and the staff was on the ground.

“Okay… thanks sir! I feel a lot better!” You called out, hearing the echoes.

You heard footsteps approach, and you began to freak out. This was not funny. Before you could let out a yell, a deafening “YAAAAAAH!” was heard and a figure in red, yellow and white zoomed past you, kitting against one of the thrones. That had to hurt. The figure grunted, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, “Billy?”

The man struggled to get up, looking at you for a split second. “(Y/N), get out of here, before-”

He was cut off by you being thrown against the wall by a grey mist. “Look, the brat is still alive.” Silvana stopped to pick up the staff that was lying at his feet. “I dedicated my live to get here.” The crystal in the staff glowed an eerie white, and you watched in horror as he walked closer to Billy. “I scoured the earth. No one believed me. On one helped; not the wizard, not my family. I only had myself.”

“I get it,” Billy said desperately, climbing onto his knees, “I get what that’s like. Feeling like you’re all alone in the world.”

“Stand.”

“Feeling like there’s this one thing and if you could just find it, then you’ll finally be good enough.”

“Stand.”

Billy did as he was told.

“The champion’s name,” Sivana pounded the staff on the ground. “Say it.” The grey mist wafted into the air, taking for of the hellish creatures. You flinched as they snarled at the hero.

“Look, no offence, mister, but I don’t think these things have your best interest at heart,” Billy tried, but his word had no effect.

“Don’t listen to this child,” Lust hissed.

“Take the staff,” Wrath snarled, hitting Billy on the back.

“Hold it, and say the champion’s name,” Sloth growled.

“They’re using you,” Billy tried again; “You have to see that they are using you.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Darla, Mary, Freddy, Pedro and Eugene creep into the scene, each carrying absurd weapons.

“Say your name.”

A harsh shring sounded and Sivana yelped as the batarang fell to the floor. “His name is Captain Sparke-Fingers,” Freddy said, trying to ignore the crack in his voice. You joined them, taking out a pen from your pocket.

Mary gave you a look of ‘seriously?’ and you rolled your eyes, pointing to the calculus book she had in her hands.

“And we’re gonna keep throwing things at your big, fat, ugly head until you let our brother go,” Darla snapped and you wanted to run over and hug the little girl while reprimanding her to not be so rude.

Thinking fast, Billy picked the batarang off the floor and imbedded it into Sivana’s right shoulder and throwing him against the wall. “Ooh, am I glad I didn’t sell that batarang,” Billy exclaimed, running down the stairs. “Pedro, is that a lamp?”

“It’s my only one.”

“Come on, come on, come on! (Y/N), you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” you respond and the others were too freaked out to comment on your talkativeness.

“Guys, I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think your weapons are gonna help, you could put ‘em down now!” Captain Sparkle-Fingers cried out, turning a corner.

“The door was right here!” Eugene exclaimed.

“Billy, how do we get out of here?” Mary asked, exasperated.

“What, you think I know? I don’t know!”

Meanwhile, Darla was curiously wandering around the tunnels. “This way!” she yelled, pointing.

“Go, go, go, go, go, follow Darla! Good job, Darla!” Billy exclaimed, pushing his family into the tunnel. “Go, go, go, go…”

The six of you ran through the tunnels and over a brick bridge, Billy yelling out commands. Poor Freddy was doing more physical activity than he’s ever done in his life, while you were still wandering about what had happened before Billy and Sivana came through. Your group stopped at in a cave, gazing in amazement.

“Woah… so many doors…” Darla mumbled, staring at each one.

“One of these has to be a way out, right?” Mary asked hopefully, but you knew she was trying to make everything better.

“Yeah I would hope so,” Billy breathed out, eyes widening.

Eugene opened a dark oak door, revealing three crocodiles (alligators?) playing poker. The animals snapped their heads around before running for Eugene, who rushed to close the door. “Not this one.”

Pedro opened another door, and swirling smoke wisped around his feet. A small plant like creature poked out of the door, only for it to turn ugly and revealed its fang-like structures and lunging for Pedro. He closed it in a haste.

Mary and Darla opened a small square door, and the creature inside let out a roar.

“Okay, no more doors, nobody open anymore doors!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

“Come on, Billy, what are we gonna do?” Darla whined.

The boy- or man? - let out a sigh, “Darla, I don’t know!”

“Do what you used to do, just think! How did you get out last time?” Mary prompted desperately.

By now, everyone had crowded around the man in red. “Last time, I thought about the Subway and I was on the Subway!”

“That’s it then!” Freddy exclaimed, “Think about the Subway, think about any other place except for here!”

“You can do it, Billy,” you said, smile on your face.

Before anyone else could comment, Sivana advanced on your group. Lifting a hand, you saw his hand glow. Billy closed his eyes and you felt yourself grow dizzy for a split second, but when you opened your eyes, you were in… where were you? All you could hear was a poor excuse of music, all the while Billy pushing everyone out of the building.

“Really? This was the first place you could think of?” Mary reprimanded, hand covering Darla’s eyes.

“You’re welcome!”

“Where’s Freddy?” You asked.

At that moment, the said boy walked out of the building, yelling out, “you too sir, have a holly jolly Christmas!”

“Freddy, what are you doing?” Billy demanded.

“I was just- they were nice people!”

“Nice peop- never mind, come on!” Before any of you had walked 10 steps, an explosion sounded from behind you, and Sivana was in the air, carrying his staff. “Go, go, go, go, everybody go!” Billy huffed when he saw Freddy struggle. Proceeding to pick him up, he bolted to a carnival where he knew they should be safe for a while.

Yeah… well… not so much. Noticing Billy, people began to crowd around him. You shivered, your claustrophobia and social anxiety was not going to be happy.

“Are you the hero!?” “You’re the hero Power Storm!”

“Wait, no, he’s an impersonator!” Freddy exclaimed.

“Yeah! I’m an impersonation of myself!” Billy yelled and you were so close to hitting him. The crowd never wavered, asking multiple questions before he had enough. “Shazam!”

With a lightning strike and a puff of smoke, Billy was back to being Billy while the crowd wondered where the hero had gone. You lean in to whisper at the once-hero. “They’re thick, aren’t they?”

He nodded in agreement before pushing the others behind a wooden stall. “Champion!” A voice yelled from above, attracting people’s attention. “You don’t deserve that name; hiding behind innocent people who will now die, because deep down, you’re just a scared little boy.”

“Don’t listen to him, Billy,” You whispered, “you’re stronger than he makes you out to be.”

“RUN!” A voice yelled, and people began to clamour from their spots.

Sivana used the staff to send lightning at different parts in the carnival, one being the centre of the Ferris wheel.  The wire holding the wheel to the ground was slowly tensioned, and the riders let out a scream.

“Well,” Billy began, turning to Freddy, “you wanted me to be a hero.”

“Are you kidding?” the boy demanded, “okay, no, old guys up there who is harbouring multiple spiritual entities, plus, I mean, he has the same powers as you, plus, he knows what he’s doing, plus, I mean, you’re my best friend and I don’t want you to die…”

“If a superhero can’t save his family…” he looked at the rest of his siblings before locking eyes with you. “He’s not much of a hero.”

He stepped out of his hiding spot, readying himself before yelling, “SHAZAM!” Within seconds, He had Sivana on the ground, exclaiming, “we’ll try that again!” He looked at Freddy with a bright grin, as if to say, ‘good?’

The boy shrugged his shoulders while the man gave an exasperated sigh. He was about to say something else, when Freddy let out a scream. “BILLY LOOK OUT!”

Said man ducked, springing upright and gaping at his family, “Laser eyes?! Guys, he has laser eyes! Too bad your aim sucks balls!”

Without warning, two arms sprang out from behind him, pulling him against the wooden building. The thing jumped out and threw the hero harshly to the ground, letting out a roar. Freddy watched the old man walk towards where Billy had landed, his eyes lighting up in realisation. “That’s his power matrix.”

“His what-what?” Eugene asked.

“When the demon guys leave his eye, he loses his power… that’s why the batarang hurt him.”

You were about to respond when Mary had to open her mouth. “Hey! Over here!”

“Wait, what are you doing?!”

“Trust me, dividing conquer. We separate the sins from the eye and he’s just an old man.”

The six of you watched in horror as the sins emerged in grey smoke, each letting out terrible screeches. You bolted into the carnival as you heard all your siblings being snatched one by one. Man, you should have payed more attention in gym. You ducked from Pride who grabbed hold of Eugene and while Greed snatched Darla from Mary. ‘RUN, RUN, RUN!’ Your mind screamed, all the while your lungs were begging for a small break. You tried your best to even out your breathing and ignoring the burning in your chest when you realised. You weren’t tired. Why the hell were you not tired?

You sprinted over to the pin ball area, Mary right on your heels. “Where… did you learn… to run like that?” Mary breathed and you shrugged in response.

You turned your attention to Sivana who was repeatedly dunking Billy’s head under water, basically drowning him. Thinking fast, you shoved a quarter (or dollar) into the machine while Mary took hold of it. “Hey.” As soon as Silvana’s head turned, she fired.

You froze as Sivana caught the little ball in between his pointer finger and his thumb when you heard a soft growling from behind you. “Ah, shit.”

You let out a scream as Gluttony dragged you into a tent where all your other siblings were being held against their will. “Nice trick,” Sivana said, “catchy. One simple word. I have a better trick. Three words,” he turned to Gluttony with a sneer, “kill the girlfriend.” (PLOTTWIST, IT TRIES TO EAT MARY)

Your siblings let out screams as you felt Gluttony’s slimy tongue stretch and you tried your best to pull away. From beside you, you heard Mary’s pleads to stop while you heard your other siblings crying out in desperation.

“STOP!” Billy yelled and Gluttony put you down. You let out a gasp, falling to your knees, your legs giving way. You felt Wrath drag you in front of him and you let out a whimper.

“Billy, there’s one more demon guy in his eye!” Freddy exclaimed. “You just gotta rip it out of its face hole -” He was cut off by Sloth’s fingers wrapping over his mouth.

“It’s where he gets his power,” Mary continued.

“Reach for it,” Sivana said in a whisper, “I dare you.” Instead, Billy got onto his knees while Sivana nodded in victory, “wise decision. Hands on the staff.”

“Don’t do it Billy!”

“Billy, don’t do this, Billy!”

Ignoring their pleas, the hero placed a hesitant hand on the staff. You looked up to find all the sins but Wrath be absorbed into Sivana’s body and fear forced its way into your heart. Billy grasped the staff firmly on the staff. While Sivana was distracted, the hero flipped the staff out of his hands and hit him in the chest, pushing the villain to the ground. Wrath let out a roar and took hold of your waist, holding you roughly as it ran off. You let out a shriek, eyes squeezed together. Just as you though all hope was lost, you heard lightning strike.

Wrath growled, turning back to the tent it was just on. You took this to your advantage and wiggled your way out before sprinting as fast as you could away from the sin. Oh hell no were you gonna be eaten today.

You ran to the only place you thought was safe- the tent. Come on, who doesn’t want to be near a superhero while the world was being annihilated. You found yourself nearing the tent when there was a crash. A girl wearing a purple jumpsuit and white cape whizzed past you. That’s when you saw the sins emerge. Wrath was battling a green hero and you couldn’t help but groan. “Ah, shit.”

A blue hero flew past you, Pride just behind him. You could hear people creaming as the winged creature hit the Ferris wheel, causing some of the screw to fling off. Panic over took you. What were you supposed to do? Run away? Get the heroes to save them? Apparently you didn’t need to tell anyone; they already saw. One lady was falling with a yell, when the purple hero rushed – quite literally – and saved her.

“Hi! Wow, I caught you!” While she ran to get you to safety, you hid in a booth.

You should be safe… right? Pulling your phone out, you decided to film the whole thing. Might as well broadcast it.

***

You quietly emerged from your hiding place when you saw the red one – Billy – pull the eye out of Sivana. People from all over the carnival let out cheers of thanks and congratulations, and you clapped loudly yourself. The five other heroes flew down to meet their leader, and that’s when you realised. Your siblings were heroes?! So this is what happens when people get abducted.

Moments later, you found yourself face to face with the 6 heroes. “Billy!” You grinned, jumping up and down. “I’d hug you, but I can’t take you seriously like that.” You laughed, looking at the other heroes. “Hey, guys!”

“(Y/N), you’re alright!” Freddy (the blue one, you assumed) exclaimed.

“Yeah, I’m okay. You’re a superhero! Didn’t think your 5 year old birthday wish would come true,” you grinned up at him. “Pedro, Mary, Eugene, Darla! You all look so good!”

“Thanks!” Darla (the purple one?) giggled.

“Where now?” Mary asked, looking around, “where are we going to put the Eye?

Billy just grinned. “I know a place.”

With a flash of blinding light, the 7 of you found yourself back in the haunted cave. “You sure this is gonna work?” Eugene asked, forever the sceptic.

When Billy placed the eye on its stand, coral like structured encompassed it, and the 7 deadly sins were put back in their designated statues.

“You guys know what this place is, right?” Freddy asked, excitement lighting up his eyes.

“A dark haunted cave with demon statues,” Darla muttered while the others nodded in agreement.

The blue hero slowly nodded. “Well, yes, but also…”

He looked at Billy expectantly. “Lair! We gotta lair!”

The others grinned and chatted in excitement while you wandered to the thrones. “Is there supposed to be another hero?”

Eugene counted the thrones in his head. “7 thrones, 6 heroes…”

Ashes quickly began to swirl around you and you gazed at them in wonder. “That’s him!” Billy exclaimed, “that’s the Wizard!”

“Obviously,” the ashes said. “As you can see, there are 7 thrones. Mary is the Wisdom of Solomon. Pedro is the Strength of Hercules. Eugene is the Power of Zeus. Freddy is the Courage of Achilles. Darla is the Speed of Mercury. Billy is all of these powers.” Each sat at their designated thrones, leaving you at the bottom of the stairs. Just as you were about to pipe up, the Wizard cut you off. “Do not think I had forgotten you, young child. You are holding these heroes together. Without you they are nothing. You are the Stamina of Atlas and the Healing of Asclepius. Together, the 7 of you will protect the earth. Together, you are the saviours. Until we meet again, dear heroes,” with that, the Wizard’s ashes were blown away.

You awkwardly shuffled in your seat. “You think we can go now?”

***

The next day, you and your family took their seats at the dining table. Things had happened, to say the least. You sat beside Billy, and you felt him squeeze your hand from other the table. You offered a smile.

“Guys,” Billy piped up, attracting all their attention. “All hands on deck.” With exclaims from Rosa and Victor, Billy began his prayer. “Thank you for this food. Thank you for this day. And thank you for this family. And, maybe this time I’ll stay.” They all pulled their hands back, Billy continuing to speak. “Because after all. I’m home.”

 EXTENDED ENDING (you know what I’m talkin’ about)

School the next day was, as usual, utter crap, especially for Freddy. Ever since the Human Power Storm didn’t show up to lunch a few days prior, things were hell. Billy had a bad cough that morning and stayed home, and you had different classes to him, leaving him alone. He wandered into the cafeteria with his tray and taking a seat at the back table. Almost immediately the people who were once occupying the seats had left.

You took a seat across from him.

“What are you doin’,” you heard Brett ask, “Waiting for your imaginary BFF to show up?”

Burke snickered and stole one of Freddy’s fries (or chips), shoving his head. Seconds later, Eugene, Mary, Darla and Pedro appeared taking their seats.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Why, we’re having lunch with you,” Mary said, pretending to be offended.

“I thought you had different lunch periods.”

“Well, we made a very special arrangement.”

The boy side-eyed Darla. “Darla, what’s going on?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Freddy Freeman!” A deep voice called out and said boy let out a snort, covering his face with the back of his hand. The kids let out exclaims of delight while the hero continued to speak. “This guy taught me everything I know about being a dope superhero, true story; you should get a few pointers from him.” He took a seat beside the curly haired boy. “What’s going on, my best bud, in the whole world, and also new kids who I’m meeting for the first time who also seem really cool.”

You exchange looks with Darla who was grinning ear to ear. You knew what was coming up next.

“I invited another friend, I hope that’s okay.”

A man in a blue costume with a diamond logo began to walk towards the table. Oh, if only you could see Brett and Burke’s face.  

Freddy turned around, only to see his idol. He jumped ten feet.

[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 3: C-53

Depending on where he looked, it had begun that night.

Dar’s party plan ended up being a success, save for a few minor snags and broken bottles. AJ had a delightful time being tossed back and forth between Dar and Horsehat until the latter got drowsy and had to be put to bed. C-53 caught Pleck’s amused grin from across the room as he watched the action, elastic and amiable, and it struck him how long it had been since he’d seen the tellurian smile.

Now, they were stretched out on a hill in the countryside of a grassy nearby planet. AJ and Horsehat were snoozing peacefully a short ways off, while the rest of the crew settled into a comfortable buzz. It felt good to be able to stretch out his limbs in the cool evening; so much of his time on the ship was spent cramped into a corner so as to not take up too much space. Dar was sprawled beside him, and Pleck lay with his arms tucked behind his head between the two.

The suns in the distance were setting, purple and hazy. C-53 luxuriated in the strange calm electricity pumping through his system, relaxing in this rare pocket of quiet they had found in the turbulent galaxy.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Dar asked finally, their voice syrupy with alcohol. “How’s morale? Good? Better?”

“Definitely better than it was, Dar, thank you for organizing all this,” C-53 responded. Putting sentences in order was fun in this state - the dust accelerated his processors in a way that pulled random threads of his consciousness to the surface and pieced them together in interesting ways.

“Yeah, Dar, I think everyone had a good time tonight,” Pleck yawned. “Thank you for forcing me to go against my will.” There was a laugh in his voice, and it was pleasant to C-53’s audio sensors.

“Anytime, you big mopey baby,” Dar purred. “Barge? You having a good time?”

“Doing way better now that my vents are full of dust,” Bargie hummed from where she was parked on the hillside. “This was long overdue. We should do this every week - no! Every day.”

“Well, that would get incredibly expensive after a while,” C-53 reasoned.

“Yeah, I just wish Nermut coulda been here, yknow?” Pleck piped up again. “I mean, I guess he has his hands full with the campaign, but it would have been nice to see him.”

“Nermut’s got his own parties to go to,” Dar muttered, honeyed tone falling flat.

“Oh no,” Pleck said, rolling onto his side so he could look at them with his good eye. “Is it like the Rebellion all over again? Is he going through Seesu boot camp?”

The captain sighed heavy in the back of their throat. “No, it’s just weird with him right now. I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“Oh, is he like, being all impressionable-”

“I said,” Dar growled, talons quivering, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Pleck had thankfully learned the signals to retreat by now, and he fell silent. Bargie, on the other hand, was humming loudly, engines whirring just for the fun of it.

“Hey Dar, if you wanna talk about it with me, I’ve got a ton of dust in my vents that would make it waaaaay easier to deal with,” the ship said.

“I’m not sure if that’s how that works,” C-53 began, but Dar was already clambering to their feet.

“That sounds great, Barge,” they said. “Boys? Can you watch our fully grown children while Bargie and I have a chat?”

“Oh, uh, you got it,” Pleck said, raising a hand in salutation while C-53 nodded.

After the captain disappeared onto the ship, Pleck settled back in the grass, looking forlorn. “Guess I jucked that one up, huh?” he murmured, the lavender sky reflecting off his eye as he gazed into the distance.

C-53 watched him carefully. “You know how they get sometimes,” he stated.

“I know, but Dar wanted to relax and I went ahead and made them all agitated again.” He plucked a piece of grass from beside him and fiddled with it, keeping his eye on the clouds. “Should just keep my stupid mouth shut.”

His processors hummed, tacking together Pleck’s words with data stored in C-53’s memory bank. “There are many times since we’ve met that I would agree with that statement, Pleck,” he said, recalling a particular incident years ago that nearly resulted in the tellurian getting ritually sacrificed. “But lately I would say you’ve been too quiet, if I can be frank.”

Pleck idly tied his grass stem in a knot. “Got a lot to think about,” he replied vaguely. He tossed the grass in C-53’s direction and watched it flutter to the ground between them.

“Such as?”

Pleck floundered, freckled face animated as he searched for an answer. “Well, y’know, the usual,” he finally said, “The Allwheat bearing down on us, the fate of the galaxy’s leadership hanging in the balance, hundreds of sentients out there dying for no reason, Seesu Gundu’s failing campaign…” he trailed off and shrugged, hazel eye refusing to look at him. “Y’know.”

“Is the Allwheat still contacting you?” C-53 asked, gently.

Pleck flinched at his words all the same. He scratched the side of his jaw. He needed a shave. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“How often?”

The tellurian was tearing out grass by the fistful, now, slowly and methodically. His eyelashes fluttered low over his cheekbones as he continued to avoid C-53’s scanners. “Almost every day. Multiple times a day, sometimes.” His voice was soft and cautious, as if he would set C-53 off if he said something wrong.

We instilled that nervousness in him, C-53 realized suddenly. It had been easy to belittle Pleck when he was his usual unflappable self, but now it was pitiful to see the results on his self-esteem. C-53’s processors buzzed, drawing conclusions for him.

It hurt. It hurt to see his friend like this. And it was partially his fault he had gotten that way.

For once in his life, C-53 was at a loss for words. AJ and Horsehat continued to sleep peacefully a few yards away while Pleck, white-knuckled, tore clods of grass out of the earth beside him, refusing to meet his best friend’s eyes. The dust filtering through his system wasn’t making it any easier for him to compute this, and he almost wished he had remained sober for this conversation.

Maybe that way he wouldn’t feel so helpless. Somehow, saying ‘I’m here for you’ felt horribly inadequate.

“It’s not just the fact that it talks to me,” Pleck continued after an agonizing stretch of silence. “It’s the things it says. It… knows me, somehow. Says things about me that are true and real and it gets inside my head.” His shoulders were curled with tension, his head bent low, blue hair skewing out of its ponytail.

“Things that are true?” C-53 asked. “You mean, facts about our missions, or-”

“Like stuff about who I am. As a person.” He tossed the grass away from him in disgust and folded his arms protectively around his own torso. He tucked his knees up to his chest and hunched over, continuing in a small voice. “I know this is all my fault already, okay? I don’t need Beano’s weird hybrid Rodd-ghost telling me about it constantly.”

Pleck didn’t cry, but he did look like a frightened animal, huddled in the grass like that. While C-53 gazed down at him, his fan kicked on, startling both of them. He didn’t think he’d taken that much dust, but his processors were definitely firing off under an unusual amount of strain.

“Sorry,” Pleck muttered. “That was probably too much, huh?” He carefully uncurled himself, stood, and brushed the grass off of his robe. “I’m gonna…” he faltered, remembering that Bargie was full of dust and an angry Dar and the rest of their team was sound asleep. He cast his eye around the grassy hillside and the farmland below, the sky purpling around him. He looked so lost.

“Pleck, if I may,” C-53 ventured. His frame was vibrating uncomfortably from the heavy industrial fan, and he hoped it would kick off soon. “You don’t have to tell me about this if it upsets you. We can talk about other things. Or we don’t have to talk at all.”

The tellurian stared at where C-53 lay in the grass, the expression on his face complicated and messy. He always wore his emotions on his face. It was a marvel none of them saw his breakdown coming sooner.

After a beat, Pleck reached up and undid the rubber band keeping his hair back, shaking out the ponytail and letting his locks fall around his shoulders. “Sure. Sorry. I’ll…” He wrapped the rubber band distractedly around his wrist. “I’ll stay. I can stay here.”

And stay he did. They settled into companionable silence, absorbed in their own thoughts as the stars blinked into view around them. C-53's fan eventually stalled to a halt. At one point, he thought he saw Pleck’s lips moving in a silent, prayer-like repetition, but his scanners couldn’t quite track what he was saying.

His dust-addled cube was drawing up memories and notions he had long since compartmentalized, scattering his internal filing system with careless abandon. Pleck had come a long way since they’d all first set foot on the Bargarian Jade. He wasn’t clueless anymore, though he did blurt the occasional tactless observation every once in a while. He’d escaped federal tyranny, survived a bitter revolution, and resolved to lead the next one of his own accord with nothing but a stupid stick and his own naive willpower.

C-53 remembered the first time their consciousnesses had been tied, when they were at Suetopia and experiencing each other’s emotions as they happened. Pleck had felt so unsure, so curious, and so happy to be around friends. Friends. Had C-53 considered him a friend, then? He wasn’t sure when that had happened, but he did know the next time the two of them had been neurally connected, inside Kevin the blob, the experience was entirely different. C-53 had felt awash with every kind of emotion, a pleasant, peachy feeling he attributed to being one with hundreds of other sentients.

But… no, that wasn’t right. The dust zinged up and down his coding, plucking at his memories like a harp.  He remembered dawning understanding as he laid scanners on his crew, feeling their emotions submerging him, passing between them and identifying them one by one. He remembered locking eyes with Pleck last, cringing away from a fear and nakedness that softened in the orange glow around them. He remembered being flooded with longing, a latent ache in his wiring that he felt as his own, though it didn’t originate from his cube. He remembered. He remembered.

He... remembered.

“Oh my Rodd,” he blurted, realizing a nanosecond too late he’d exclaimed it out loud.

“What?” Pleck startled, looking around. “What is it?”

“I uh,” C-35’s cube was in overdrive as he scrambled. That look he’d given him in the blob, that ache deep in his fibers, that quiet hesitation every time they were close. Pleck had feelings for him. Strong feelings. Why had he buried that? Why had it resurfaced?

“...I saw a shooting star,” he lied.

Gullible, trusting Pleck believed him instantly.  “Aw, I missed it,” he said.

“It was on your blind side,” C-53 replied, hating himself for continuing the ruse. “I’ll point it out if I see another one. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. They’re fast little guys. Used to get them back on Rangus Six all the time.” Pleck stared fondly up at the velvet night, reminiscing.

C-53 wanted to slip into low power mode so that he could better examine this sudden realization. His tellurian coworker, his best friend, the man lying drunkenly in the grass beside him, had yearned for him for… months, possibly. At least a season. How had that happened? How had he not realized sooner? Was he still yearning, after all this time?

Pleck stretched his arms luxuriously over his head. “Hey, C-53?” he asked, his voice going soft with drowsiness.

He angled his chin ever so slightly. “Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re here with me.”

C-53 hoped Pleck couldn’t hear the strange, small juddering noise coming from his internal processor. His vocal modulator was slow to start up, but it spoke the truth.

“I am, too.”

Chapter 2 <-----> Chapter 4

[angela1-blog-blog]

Taking it one day  at a time

I’ve always been one of those Christians that goes through these cycles of going to church every Sunday and being involved to completely disappearing for a couple of months. I always thought I was too sinful to go to church. Like it disqualified me from being allowed into church even though no one ever said that to me. I started my journey with Jesus at 17 years old and I had a clean slate. As I got older that changed and because I judged myself and disliked myself for the decisions I made, I thought God felt the same. I couldn’t go to his house of worship, how could I? A hypocrite could not possibly be welcome there. As time went on I projected those insecurities towards my fellow churchgoers and felt as if I didn’t belong. When that happened I would disappear for a while and hope they’d forget the person I use to be and take me as the new person I was now. A person who was really trying not to sin.

In reality, they had no idea about any of the things I had done. If they ever had suspicions they never let it show either. The truth is they loved me as my brothers and sisters in Christ. They saw me and always had good things to say to me and invited me to events with an open heart. I was the one pushing them away. I was the one putting myself out of place because I loved them too and I had allot of residual abandonment issues from my childhood. Although all of that was wrong for me to do, the worst was letting how I felt about people keep me from God. I was so caught up in the wrong things that I never opened up the bible and read it for myself until about a year and a half ago. The small church I had attended in the past was closed down and everyone went their separate ways. I was the only member of the church who attended without any family members and so felt lost and alone once again. I still wanted to know about God but I was much more wary of who I would listen to up on a pulpit. I waked away with church hurt of my own making. I didn’t want to try going to any new churches, I felt sure I would only meet the same kind of people and go through the same thing all over again. 

One day someone shared a video of Elevation Church and it appeared on my Facebook feed. I watched it for a few minutes and then I went ahead and connected my phone to my living room television. I was taken in. I had never heard anyone preach like that. He was honest, he kept it real, he was funny and most importantly, the Holy Spirit told me he was telling everyone some truth. Later on I came to find out it was Lead Pastor Michael Todd from Transformation Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He had only been a guest preacher at Elevation Church. And don’t get me wrong, I really like Pastor Steven Furtick too. He also hands out God’s word like Oprah does prizes but Pastor Mike’s style generally suits me better for some reason. Anyway, I entered another cycle. After watching quite a few videos of Pastor Mike and Transformation church I stopped. If I’m being honest it’s because God had gotten me another job. I felt like I should take my blessing and walk away before God realized that I was still a sinner. 

Fast forward to ten months later. My grandmother, who I had taken care of my siblings and I since our mother had passed away 14 years prior, was diagnosed with cancer a third time. They didn’t know exactly where it was but they said we can assume it’s in her brain or her lungs by her symptoms. We didn’t know what to make of it. She had beat it twice before and it should have been the third time a few years back but god heard our prayers and made it disappear. Unfortunately, it did not seem we would see that kind of miracle this time. The doctors didn’t really have any answers for us and uncertainty over where it was seemed to be the most pressing issue. They scheduled her for a PET scan a month later. A PET scanner is such a rare and in demand piece of equipment they could not get her an appointment any earlier. 

We tried to go on about our lives. My younger sister was graduating from law school in a little less than a week. I was set to graduate from community college a few weeks later. We have wonderful pictures of my grandmother at my sisters graduation but we weren’t able to get any of hers at mine. She watched me go up on stage and get my degree and shortly after felt too ill to stay in such a confined space any longer. She and my younger brother left to his car. Sometime between the end of my graduation and when I got home after having dinner with a couple of family friends she had collapsed and needed to be taken to the hospital. 

My brother and sister had gone with her, I would stay home with my youngest brother and trade places with my siblings the next morning so they could get some rest. And that’s how we spent the next 20 days. We took turns staying at the hospital with her day and night giving each other just enough of a break to go to work or get a few hours of sleep in our beds before going to work. None of us complained, we knew it could be the very last thing we ever did for her. And it was. However, in those 20 days we experienced mercy and grace like we had never known. At some point when she went into the hospital there was too much water in her brain and it kept her from being conscious. We thought we would never hear her voice again and see her eyes open. We lived in that fear. I remember wishing I could have God hold my hand and let me now everything would be okay. I am blessed with my best friend who told me to pray. 

And pray I did. I prayed, knowing I had to let God do His will and so I asked that He would please just let us talk to her one last time. See her eyes look at us and remember who we are. That I could hold her hand one more time and feel it squeeze mine. I wasn’t asking God to let me keep her, I had the feeling it was her time. All I asked was that he please let us tell her goodbye. After everything was said and done I found out my siblings had done the same, even my brother who had said he didn’t believe in God, had prayed for the same. That’s exactly what God gave us. The surgery to place a drain in her skull had gone well and she regained consciousness. When she did it felt like a miracle, a small one we knew had to be cherished while we had it. During the week she recovered at the nursing home she was discharged to recover we continued taking shifts to stay with her. My grandmother was never alone. We shared more laughs with her, looked into her eyes more often, held her hand for longer, sang with her, gave her any food she wanted, we did everything we could because we knew her recovery was a result of God’s mercy towards our family even if it did not last for long. On day 10 she went back to the hospital with a horrible headache. Everyone called off of work again and met my younger sister and grandmother at the hospital. This was it. The doctors hadn’t outright said it but they didn’t give us too much hope either, it wouldn’t have been fair. She was gone three days later. 

We were lucky. We could let her go knowing she was going with God. Through that experience, though I still mourn my grandmother, I know how real God is. He showered us with his mercy, to let us really be with her for a little while longer. I was proud that my faith had grown enough to let God be God even if it hurt. Most importantly, I learned I had a wonderful father who heard me and loved me and postponed his plans to show me His mercy is real. I will never forget that and as many times as people let me tell this story I will tell it because it glorified Him and his work. 

Now it is nearly a year later and the church hurt hasn’t entirely gone away. With the stay-at-home orders going on right now though it doesn’t seem to matter much. I went through multiple hobbies before I decided to watch another Transformation church video. I thought it would be one and I’d be done. One turned into two and two into three and I got to the point where I’m watching one most nights of the week. I’m falling in love with God and His word and I can’t really keep it to myself anymore. I still make mistakes but because I know God, I know they do not disqualify me from getting his love. He won’t look at me and then look away in disapproval. God loves me. So much so that He sent His one and only son to the cross just for me. I will continue to delve deeper into the word of God and prayer and try to keep myself from sinning. I still slip up here and there and I have to remember that God has already forgiven me and it is not a reason to run away and hope I’m avoiding angering Him. I will continue to take it one day at a time as a Christian woman in progress and hope that what I write will ring a bell in someone and let them know that God loves them too. He doesn’t expect us to be perfect, Jesus already paid the price for our sins, all we have to do now is go to Him with open arms and accept the gift He has already given us with each and every single one of us in mind. 

[chibi-pix]

Altean AU

I had debated on uploading this or not, but I decided to. Here be a prologue of an Altean!Pidge AU, while we don’t get Pidge as a full character yet, we see one of my takes in her getting from Altea to Olkarion, since, in my doodles, little Altean!Pidge lives on Olkarion and is raised by Ryner.

It’s under the “keep reading”. Enjoy the feels.

Trigel grumbled a few profanities as she pressed her hand in closer to her side. She knew she was bleeding. She knew the wound would not heal on its own. At this point, her only hope for survival in the end was an Altean healing pod. But she had something more important to do than get herself healed. She had to hide the lion, the green lion of Voltron. She had to keep it out of Zarkon’s hands. And in addition, she had to protect the precious cargo within the hold of her lion.

Trigel checked her scanners. No Galra activity for many, many galaxies. They were focused on Altea and the planets in its system. She nodded and checked to see where she was, smiling when she found herself in a familiar place. It was a second home to her, Olkarion. Her first home was the home she was born to, within the Dalterion Belt; her third home was on Altea, having spent many cycles there.

“Olkarion… an idea place for the green lion.” she mumbled to herself. She went in to land on the planet, a fleeting though passing through her mind.

“What? No way! Olkarion’s a moon and you know it, Tri!” Blaytz stated. “See, it orbits another planet, not a star.”

“While it does orbit Emuria, Olkarion has it’s own gravity and cycle.” Trigel argued. “And unlike it’s neighbouring gas planet, Olakrion has a sustainable atmosphere and life.”

“Yeah, but a planet should orbit a star, not another planet.” Blaytz reminded.

Trigel couldn’t help but chuckle, even if the slight spasm of her body from the action caused pain. “Yeah… I’m going to miss our debates.” she mused. “I still say Olkaion’s a planet, you overgrown fish with legs.” She smirked before taking her lion down for a landing.

If you could even call it that. She crashed into the dense forests on the southern hemisphere of the planet, the lion pinning itself under a tree that had fallen over deca-phoebs before. Covering it was dirt and vines, helping to blend the white and green mechanical beast further into the land.

“Quiznak...” Trigel grumbled. She slowly rose to her feet, staggering away from her seat in the cockpit. Weakened, tired, and on the verge of death, she was not ready to fall, not yet. She made her way to the lion’s hold, looking to see a special piece of Altean tech there.

Trigel stumbled over to the pod lying down in the hold. She looked inside. Undisturbed and frozen in time, she looked to see a young boy and his baby sister. Matt and Katie Holt, the two children of Sam and Colleen Holt, skilled alchemists of Altea and close friends of King Alfor, the red paladin of Voltron. But Sam and Colleen were dead, killed by Zarkon’s soldiers. Katie and Matt would have ended up the same had Trigel not found them before she was even told to hide the lion.

“I’m sorry, my dears...” Trigel mumbled. She coughed a bit, spitting up some blood. She wasn’t doing so well. “I couldn’t save your parents… but maybe… maybe the green lion can keep you safe… she’ll keep your pod powered… and when the time is right, you’ll awaken. Hopefully… hopefully this war will have ended when you do… and you can live in a time of peace.” She smiled softly before getting back up.

Trigel made her way out of the lion, grabbing an Altean drone she had as she did. Leaving her lion, she had her mind on the children and their family. She had always been fond of Sam and Colleen, especially getting along with Colleen. They shared a passion for nature, loving to work with plants; she loved watching Colleen work on altering plants to survive new conditions and help life thrive on many planets. And then the children came and she adored them. Matt was always curious, always asking questions. He loved traveling to the Dalterion Belt with Trigel; he loved traveling anywhere with her when it meant he could see new planets, meet new people, and learn new things.

Then there was Katie. She was not yet a deca-phoeb in age and she was already showing her curiosity. Crawling or toddling, she always found her way to the green lion, too, when Trigel was visiting Altea. Trigel knew that though just a baby, Katie had already bonded with the lion.

“I bet Katie will make a fine paladin one day.” Trigel said. She went to one of the lion’s front paws and sat down by it, leaning against its cool metal. She picked up her drone and activated it. “Record message.”

The small, round drone let out a beep. It then moved to hover in front of the green paladin, its attention focused on her.

“Life cannot go on forever, we all know that. The old must make way for the new.” Trigel said. “I had hoped I would return to the battlefield, fight alongside my friends one more time to ensure the safety of the universe, but… I suppose my last mission is coming to an end. I found Matt and Katie, I took them with me to keep them safe. They sleep in the lion’s hold, safely tucked away together in a pod keeping them in stasis. I do not know when they’ll awaken, but hopefully this conflict will end when they do.”

“Alfor, I’m sorry I can’t return to your side… return to help you. Hopefully you are able to save the lives of as many Alteans as possible… especially your daughter. The future will need her… Oh, and don’t wet yourself out there, got it?” Trigel smiled. “Gyrgan, I had hoped to try some more of those cuisines you talk about from other planets. Looks like I won’t be doing that, my friend. But hey, should you survive, have a feast in my honour, one grand enough to feed all people, the young, the old, the rich, the poor… and tell them of the time I kicked Blaytz’s ass in a spar when we first united as a team.” She laughed a bit, but the sensation hurt. “Scratch that, have a feast in honour of peace in the universe.”

“Blaytz, Olkarion’s a planet and you quiznaking know it.” Trigel smirked. “But… you’re strong, selfless, and wonderful… when this is over, be sure to find someone nice to settle down with. Though they better be strong willed, too, that ought to keep you in line. Hopefully they debate as well as I do, you’d enjoy that, I’m sure. Maybe date that Galran you like; I bet he won’t blindly join this war.” She nodded. “And Zarkon…somewhere in there, the old you remains… you’ve come a long way, going from this highly disciplined man to marrying an Altean alchemist… please, be stronger than this… Be… the leader… you… were...”

Trigel’s eyes went dim. Her final breath was given. The drone hovered there for a short dobosh or two before ending the recording and hovering down to rest itself next to the paladin’s leg. It waited for any further orders. After several vargas, it shut itself down, the message stored inside it for whoever came to find it.

-+-+-+-

“By Willow...” Gyrgan stared in shock. “Trigel!” He ran over to the green paladin to check on her, his eyes wide when found no signs of life in his old friend. “No… No… Trigel… please...” He looked horrified as tears streamed down his face, dripping off and falling upon Trigel’s lifeless form. “Blaytz, she’s...” He looked over, seeing the blue paladin check on the drone. “What’s it… say?”

Blaytz played the message, the two listening. As they did, Gyrgan only cried more, his friend and fellow paladin letting him cry on his shoulder. Blaytz did all he could to not cry, only a few tears betraying his will.

“We’ll end this war, buddy… we’ll go back to Alfor and help him.” Blaytz assured.

“What about Trigel?” Gyrgan questioned. “We can’t leave her… can we?”

Blaytz sighed as he moved and shifted Trigel’s body to lay down, her hands over her chest. “I’m sorry we cannot give you a proper funeral, one fitting of a warrior.” he apologized. “But please, rest easy, may your spirit protect the children and guide the next green paladin.” He leaned forward and kissed Trigel’s forehead. “Should we survive, I will ensure you are given a warrior’s funeral. Should we not… may we meet in the afterlife and ensure peace from there.” He then stood up and nodded to Gyrgan, letting him take a moment to give his farewells.

“I’ll be sure to have a feast in your name, Trigel; they’ll sing tales of you for ages to come.” Gyrgan nodded. “By the great Willow’s guidance, you will never be forgotten.” He put his hand to his chest and chanted a small prayer in another language before moving his hand to Trigel’s, finishing his prayer. “Blaytz, what do we do about the children?”

“We leave them here.” Blaytz responded, though it was far from cold. He went to the green lion’s muzzle, putting his hand to it. “I know I’m not your paladin, Green, and Trigel’s gone, but please… protect those children.” He rested his forehead against the metal. “They need you.” He smiled and pulled away. “C’mon, buddy, we got a battle to fight; Alfor’s gonna need us.”

“Right.” Gyrgan nodded and got up. He left with Blaytz, the two going to a ship they had used to get to Olkarion, and planned on using to get back to Altea.

----------------

I hope you guys enjoyed. I don’t know if this will be continued or not (as a story; I like doing my Altean!Pidge doodles when I can). But who knows, maybe I’ll keep working on it, showing Pidge (and Matt) growing up on Olkarion.

[fandomqueen74]

Secrets are no Fun

Part 1, Part 2

Yon Rogg x Reader

Tag List: @lacontroller1991 @itsknife2meetu

“You’re telling me there’s nothing?” (Y/n) slowly woke  up, but she kept her eyes closed, trying to figure out how many there were and if she could escape on her own. She also needed to find Vers and find a ship and somehow get back Yon Rogg.

“The medic doesn’t know anything and everything is scrambled in the other one” A second voice came through and (Y/n) slowly opened her eyes. There were five skrulls, all looking at some screens. They showed a mix of her memories and Vers.

“You’re saying that between the commander’s girlfriend and the girl who shoots photons from her fists there’s nothing” A gasp escaped (y/n)’s lips as she recognized one of the memories on the screen. It had been the first time Yon Rogg had kissed her. All the skrull turned around to face (y/n) before knocking her out again.

~~~~~~

“What the hell?” (Y/n) woke up to the ship now on fire, Vers had disappeared and there were multiple skrulls dead around her. (Y/n) caught sight of Vers, yelling out. How she had gotten free was beyond her. “Vers, help me out!”

“I got you” Vers looked at the panel of buttons and controls before simply shooting at it, causing the system to fry. (Y/n) fell out of the machine, rolling into a summersault before landing on her knees. “Now let’s get out of here” Vers helped her up, tossing (y/n) her boots. The pair ran down the hallways, trying to find the escape pods. They finally found them, (y/n) going to start the system as Vers stood to protect the pair

“Leaving so soon? We were just getting to know each other” A skrull smiled, aiming his gun at the pair before blasting a small part of their pod. Vers shot him and (y/n) closed the pod, launching it into space.

    The pod wasn’t safe for long space travel, but luckily they weren’t far from a planet. The pod didn’t last going through the planet's atmosphere and the pair crashed into some strange building, bringing down a chunk of the roof with them. (Y/n) paused for a moment on the ground, trying to figure out if she was hurt or not. It only feels like bruises, (y/n) thought to herself before finally climbing to her feet. Vers was already walking around, looking around the strange, shop?

“Where are we?” Vers picked up some of the items, they seemed light and had pictures on them, but neither one knew exactly what it was.

“C-53, according to this” (Y/n) checked out her holographic scanner, trying to determine where in the nebula they where. She had never been this far from Hala. They were safe from the skrull for now, but they needed to contact Yon Rogg. (Y/n) pointed at the vehicle outside the building and her and Vers moved there. Vers moved towards the vehicle as (Y/n) stayed back by the building, trying to figure out why the skrull cared so much about Vers. She knew she would become a target when her and Yon had been found out, and she knew Vers couldn’t remember her previous life, but why did they care.

Vers turned away from the vehicle, nodding at (y/n) and moving in the direction of a different building that had a small box on the outside. Vers inserted her communication chip into the receiver and a holograph on Yon Rogg appeared. (Y/n) let out a sigh of relief, her nerves easing just by seeing him.

“Vers? Where are you?” Yon didn’t look his normal self. He was on edge and urgent. Vers rolled her eyes, not quite realising the seriousness of the situation, or just the strangeness of it.

“Planet C-53, I’m fine by the way, how are you?” Vers raised an eyebrow, her tone relaxed and calm, it made (y/n) want to scream.

“And (Y/n)?” Yon looked around as much as he could, an even more worried expression taking over his face. It caused (y/n)’s heart to flutter and she scooted closer to Vers.

“I’m here” (Y/n) smiled, the relief that washed over his face enough to make her cry.

“The both of you stay there and keep you’re communicator in” Yon turned back to business, looking more a Vers. He had no doubt that (y/n) would follow his orders, but Vers was a different story.

“There’s skrulls here, we need to get to them before they find whatever they’re looking for” Vers’ voice turned slightly angry.

“Vers no” No doubt she wanted to play hero, and normally (y/n) would scowl at this, but something didn’t feel right to (y/n).

“Vers let me talk to him” Vers turned, there really was no hiding this at this point and (y/n) couldn't care anymore.

“(Y/n), you have to leave your communicator on” Yon looked desperate now. He needed (y/n) to keep control of the situation. He need (y/n) to stay put, for his own sanity and for the mission.

“She’s right Yon Rogg” (Y/n) glanced at Vers, a small, pleased smirk graced her lips as Yon’s face fell further.

“No, we can’t insure your safety if you-” Yon couldn’t believe this. He was use to one insubordinate soldier, not to, not his (y/n).

“You can’t insure my safety here” (Y/n) shook her head, tears prickling in her eyes. This was her first time on a mission without a support team, and Vers wasn’t the most reliable partner.

“I’ll come save you” Yon’s voice was soft and (y/n) knew if he was her he’d be holding her cheek, wiping away her tears.

“Promise?” (Y/n) looked down at her feet, trying to collect herself. She was on a strange planet, being hunted by skrull, with a less than reliable teammate. Now was not the time to wallow in self pity.

“Promise” Yon nodded and Vers ended the call, grabbing her communicator just before there was knock on the glass next to them.

“You ladies wouldn’t happen to know anything about a break in at that block buster? The security officer said it was done by two ladies dressed for laser tag” A tall, dark skinned man stood in front of the pair of them. Vers and (y/n) exchanged a look, moving to walk past him.

“No sir, if you’ll excuse us” The man grabbed Vers’ arm, stopping their movements. He also reached into his pocket grabbing a small card.

“Now wait a minute, Nick Fury SHIELD agent, we have a few questions for you” Vers glared at the man, balling her fist up.

“Vers, don’t” (Y/n) grabbed Vers’ wrist, giving her a small warning. They didn’t know this man yet and they needed allies, not enemies right now.

“Who are you two?” Vers stepped back with (y/n), relaxing her fist.

“Kree Starforce Special Operation, Vers and Dr. (Y/L/N)” (Y/n) stated, hoping this planet was advanced enough to hear about them. It was hard in the outskirts, not every planet was ready for the knowledge the Kree brought with them.

“Kree Starforce? I’m going to need to see identification” Nick looked between the pair, trying to figure them out. Vers rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

“Kree don’t carry identification in card form” Vers’ tone was annoyed and honestly, (y/n) was becoming annoyed with her too. There was a reason Yon didn’t think she was ready for missions.

“Mmmhm, you ladies are going to need to come with me” Nick stepped aside, another man stepping beside him with two pairs of cuffs. (Y/n) shook her head.

“You have no idea what we’re talking about do you?” (Y/n) wanted to laugh, of course they were going to be the first contact with this planet. Not the most glowing endorsement for the Kree.

“Vers!” A blast shot past the group, Vers pulling down the two men as (y/n) tucked herself into the box. Vers turned sprinting after the man on the roof that had shot at him. It was a skrull. The two men stood up, dumbfounded as they watched the pair run away.

“Do you have transportation?” (Y/n) gripped Nick’s arm, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah, this way” The group ran to the car, (y/n) climbing in the back and another man climbing into the seat next to Nick.

“Did you see her gun?” The car sped off following Vers and the skrull, dodging traffic.

“No” Nick looked dumbfounded, he kept glancing back at (y/n) as the trio did their best to keep an eye on Vers.

“For the love of Kree Vers” (Y/n) said a small prayer, hoping that she wouldn’t become hurt and that (y/n) wouldn’t die in this deathtrap of a vehicle with the man Nick driving it like a mad man.

“~Uh, Fury? I’m still at the blockbuster, where did you go?~” A voice came over the radio and (Y/n) looked at Nick. She had no idea what was going on but by his expression it couldn’t be good. The car then lurched to the side, slamming right into another larger car.

“What the hell!” (Y/n) yelled, opening her door and tumbling out of the car before it could make impact. She watched as half of the car crunched up, killing the nameless man in the front seat as Nick climbed out. (Y/n) rose to her feet, going to check out the man only to find green blood.

“Skrull…” (Y/n)’s voice was barely above a whisper. She couldn’t trust anyone except the man in front of her who she had yet to let out of her sight. “Jacket” (Y/n) reached her hand out, covering the skrull before he fully transformed back. If this planet didn’t know Kree they didn’t know skrulls and who knew what would happen then.

[fantabulousfunnelweb]

Massive Spider-Tober dump (Days 1-6)

200+ Words per Prompt

I’ll try & post these in compilation dumps like this unless you’d like otherwise!

Day 1: Villain

The rubble and ash infested air stole Funnels breath before the bony fingers of his combatant deprived him of it, finger and thumb squeezing down on the Spiders neck as their mask-covered eyes met.

“We never had to do any of this, you know that Kid?”

The freakish orange eyes of Kjells mask stared daggers through the whites of Kyle’s own, almost sensing the utter fear beneath them as nothing but strained gasps arose from the spider's throat.

“And now look, you & I have gone and ruined old Ozzy’s head office! For a hero, you certainly don’t know anything about damage control…”

Finding the strength in his oxygen-deprived muscles, Funnel-Web thrust his feet forward, latching his soles strongly onto the chest of his attacker. Utilizing his newfound foothold, the Spider sent a panicked fist careening into the side of the Goblinoids head. Kyles could feel the reinforced plasteel give way to Kjells exposed flesh, how the cartilage of his ear became crushed like putty under the sheer force. The sensation was enough to send a cringe up Funnels spine. Taken off-guard by the Spiders blow, the spindly Goblin stumbled, grip faltering and granting The Funnel-Web freedom from Kjells grasp. The urge to just lay there amongst the charred old office was tempting, but as oxygen returned to Funnel-Web once more, so did his will to continue.

Day 2: News

‘Terror rocked the New York high rises as powered terrorists Goblinoid and The Funnel-Web waged a reasonless war hundreds of feet above Upper Manhattan, finishing with the heartbreaking destruction of former OsCorp Headquarters upper floors.’

“Can you turn that crap off?” Flint grunted from his battered old chair, his request catching the attention of the nearby Phil, who quickly answered his prayers and changed the channel. “I mean it. The new’s been gone all crazy about Supers again, don’t those freaks ever settle down?” He raised a hand to scratch at their chin, already a victim to a 5’o-clock shadow, “Darcy, whadda you think?” His attention turning over to their partner in the kitchen, assisting Kyles in cleaning out the oven and promptly attempting to ignore the question, but it didn’t last long. “I thought you said ya’ stopped caring about those guys years ago?” She rang from their kneeling position on the floor, inciting her cleaning assistant to chip in a word too, “Clearly not if he's complaining.” reverberating from inside the oven as he thoroughly scrubbed the remains of an explosive 2-week old pasta bake from its walls, the torturous stench only relieved by the satisfaction of hearing a stifled laugh out of Darcy.

Day 3: Run

“HI THERE SORRY MISTER FLINT BUT WHADDID DARCY ASK FOR ME TO BUY AGAIN?”

“The hel-Kyles?! Uh, It was just some bread, Rye bread, and why are you shouting!?”

Kyles held his tongue as he went sailing through a rooftop pavilion, a grey bullet over the heads of bystanders under its shade. “NO REASON! THANKS MISTER FLINT I’LL BE SURE TO GET THE BREA-!”.

Kyles hated to make Mr Flint worry from the abrupt hang up, but the Funnel-Web had enough on his own plate as he scanned the city roads for the runaway carjackers. If he knew he was going to be stopping a car chase at 4’o’clock he would’ve bought Darcy that bread first instead of pushing it down his to-do-list, although he will admit he did go over-schedule in his attempts to convince Patriot to build skateboard wheels into his shield. With the constant buzz of police scanners in his ears, the ever analysing lenses of the Funnels mask honed in on the suspected route of the high-speed bandits. Brisk evening air rocketed past him as they plummeted, catching their speedy descent with a web that anchored itself firmly to a building on his left. Sailing clean over the dismayed intersection, the Spider continued his chase towards the speeding 4-Wheel, keeping thoughts of Rye Bread ingrained in his mind.

Day 4: Flying

It was oddly backwards of the web-slinging Spider to be afraid of flying, barely containing panicked yells as they were flung through the air upon the backside of a speeding drone. Blistering 90kph speeds causing the Funnel-Webs jacket to become air-pressed against his body, almost stifling his breath in the process. “I’m on a drone, what do I do now!?” failing completely to sound not-at-all scared for their life to his fellow heroes.

It seemed like an eternity before the strained voice of Dusk pierced the comm lines, rife with exhaustion and own problems to worry about, yet helping their ally regardless.

“Structural weakness around the external stabilizer, PUNCH IT!” her instruction cutting out with a guttural cry and leaving Funnel once more with his own stressed thoughts as company. “Dusk!?!” Sent into a panic by the sudden radio silence, the Spider found the strength to grasp the drone with an open palm, reeling in his elbow shakily before sending a strong hook into one of the machines weaker point. Kyle’s eyes watered as his fist met reinforced steel, the flash pain locking up his arm, but the damage was already done, and with the significant blow to external stabilizer of the hostile drone, all the contraption could muster was to sail of its course and into the embrace of a concrete wall, scorching the cement and leaving the hero to fall with a tumble. “Dusk” The pain of his arm didn’t matter as much as it did his ally, kicking off an unsteady heel and flinging themselves once more into the warehouse battleground, desperate for the safety of their friend.

Day 5: Iron

“I’m telling you, the Ironheart girls a real piece of work.”

“What else would you expect Ms. Marvel? Anything out of Stark International is a piece of work.”

The eyes beneath the Spiders mask rolled in frustration, his annoyed grumbling drowned out only from his high seat over his teammates. “Alright Patey, corporate bias aside, she didn’t do a half-bad job helping us out, none of us could’ve possibly gotten that bomb out of the city if she didn’t swoop in.”

“Yeeah, but she also threatened to arrest us once she came back.”

“So?! We got out of there before she could, didn’t we?”

Silence fell upon the trio, the only noises being the delicate scrapes as Patriot nicked squashed bullets from his vest & shield, and the resounding metal clinks of them falling to the floor. “Alright, I get what you’re both mad about, I get it too. But we need to learn to be thankful about this sort of stuff, if she wasn’t required by law to arrest us, she wouldn’t have attempted!” Kyles didn’t think they’d be defending anybody tonight, let alone Morgan Starks new armoured bodyguard. “The whole point of the Unregistered is that we’re people just like them, just not on a stupid corporate list.” The Funnel-Web merely let out a winded sigh in response, leaning their back against the lukewarm steel girder they called a seat, “I’m gonna stare at the ceiling for a while, just… get my attention when you think we’re safe to go.”

Day 6: Fire

The hiss of extinguishing fire was drowned out the noise of more turning alight, reaching around the far recesses of the motel room along shiny trails of alcohol that soaked into the carpet. Funnel-Web never had any quips on hand for flash-fires and put his mind to business saving what he could of the makeshift drug lab, which unfortunately included the ones inside it. “Back off y’fucking freak!” an infuriated, raspy voice crawling across the smoke infested air. A soul caught in the crossfire of the assault that happened moments earlier, “I-I really can’t do that sir!” shouting out through closed breath as the Spider dared not inhale whatever the smog contained, furiously scooping up the trapped individual and trudging his way out. “Stay right here!” setting down the man at his feet before diving back into the room, smoke billowing through off the motel balcony and into the air. With the ones running the entire lab having escaped, Funnel was left to pick at the burning rooms, snatching a half-melted laptop from a smouldering desk before the distant sirens rendered it high time to leave. Funnel knew this was the last time they ever worked around Dusk’s neighbourhood, all this seedy motel drug stuff wasn’t really their speed. Besides, you couldn’t find a single building above 4 stories for blocks, a horrible environment for a Spider.

[anneapocalypse]

I haven’t been posting much in the way of writing updates here lately, so in honor of finishing the first draft, here’s a long-ish sneak preview of the Kimbalina longfic.

*

Kimball spots that aqua armor, motionless in the snow, and her heart does not stop, not quite.

After the disaster at Crash Site Alpha, it almost feels like it should.

*

Grif brings the bird down between the trees as best he can, as best anyone could really—there’s no clearing in the dense pines and they can hear branches snapping against the hull on the final descent. Steam billows up before the windshield, obscures the tiny window in the back hatch, where the heat of the Pelican’s engines meets the snow. 

There is still something about a winter-white landscape that puts Kimball on high alert. Snow means north, means high altitudes, means Federal strongholds in the mountains, Fed soldiers in their camouflaged white armor, the bright glare of danger every rebel in desert drab well knows.

Even now, with the truce, it gets her blood up. And the mountains are no less dangerous now—just from a different foe.

*

Tucker, Caboose, and Dr. Grey are clustered around Carolina, along with Donut, and someone else, someone in… purple armor? She’s too exhausted to figure out if she’s seen them before. Tucker seems to be focused on keeping Caboose from interfering, while Grey is focused on Carolina. Epsilon’s blue hologram glows above her still form. It is him—his distress beacon—that has brought them here, broadcast over Aqua Squad’s TEAMCOM, the Red and Blue TEAMCOMs, and Kimball and Wash’s private channels. 

Tucker, Caboose, and Dr. Grey have been on the ground searching for well over an hour—that she learned by radio—but the distress beacon only came active twenty minutes ago. Kimball’s team was already in the air, with Grif at the helm, making their retreat, when the call came.

Carolina missing. The Key in the hands of the mercenaries. 

If Kimball wasn’t so bone-tired to the point of numbness, she thinks she’d probably be sick.

Wash has been at her side since they got the call, peering through the hatch window, both of them sort of self-consciously keeping just enough distance not to block the other’s view. A strained courtesy that Kimball nonetheless appreciates from Wash. He’s a hard one to read—always in armor, rarely unhelmeted in public, even less than Carolina, though Kimball has seen him in the mess enough to know him by his face. His presence here at her side is a terse silence.

But when the hatch drops, Wash lurches forward before it touches the snow.

*

Wash makes all of Blue Team gathered around Carolina, and even Sarge and Simmons quickly follow.

“Stand back, please!” Dr. Grey chirps, in the deceptively cheerful tone Kimball has come to recognize as nothing less than a medical Command voice, and learned to obey quickly, because whatever else Emily Grey may be, she is no fool when it comes to medicine. “Gentlemen, I’m going to need a team lift here.”

“Is it safe to move her?” Wash asks, hovering. His posture now radiates anxiety.

“Would I have said it if it wasn’t?” Grey retorts, a bit shortly. 

“Right,” Wash says, and without another word moves into position by Carolina’s head. 

“Caboose, you take her legs,” Tucker says, “but don’t move until Dr. Grey says.”

“No moving,” says Caboose.

“Until Dr. Grey says.”

“Until Dr. Grey says… what?”

“Caboose, go get in the back of the Pelican and wait for us there.”

“Okay!” says Caboose and trots off.

“Is she going to be all right?” Kimball asks desperately, unable to restrain herself any longer.

“Oh, sweetie,” Dr. Grey says, eyes never leaving her medical scanner. “I’m a genius, not a psychic! That depends on a whole variety of factors outside my knowledge or control! Why, any of us might die tomorrow!”

She will not take a swing at the Fed doctor. Today is not the day. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Kimball isn’t psychic either.

“Her vitals are strong,” Grey continues blithely, “and I don’t see any signs of spinal injury. That’s about as much as I can tell you without more equipment, which is why we need to get her back to base as quickly as possible!”

“Watch her head,” Epsilon says tensely. “Be careful.”

“I’ve got her,” Wash says.

Kimball’s hands flail helplessly. “Can I—”

But she isn’t needed. The Reds, Tucker, and Wash have Carolina up and shuttled in the back hatch and laid flat on the floor, at which point Grey cheerfully orders everyone out of her way. Donut hops into the copilot spot and the rest of them grab crash seats—Kimball remains standing—and with a roar of thrusters they lift off again through the trees.

There’s something strange and terrible about being surrounded by the Reds and Blues in near total silence.

*

It’s a long flight back to Armonia. Too long. Long enough for Kimball to tie herself in knots.

Nothing good waits for her back in Armonia. The survivors of Crash Site Alpha, with no time to mourn their losses, because they have to re-mobilize immediately, because things are only going to get worse from here, because Doyle—

Doyle.

The thought of another strategy meeting, now, after all of this—it just makes her want to start screaming.

*

Grif lands them on the roof of Armonia General, and Grey sends Tucker inside for a gurney. At least the elevators are running.

She should be following her. Should be at Carolina’s side while Grey wheels her off, Epsilon’s agitated light still hovering over her silent form. Should be there when Carolina wakes up.

But she has to be there for her people, first. And Carolina…

Carolina might not want her there anyway.

Kimball feels a nudge at her shoulder, and realizes she’s blocking the hatch.

“She’s going to be okay,” Wash says.

Kimball feels frozen. She feels too exhausted to move, too exhausted to even form the words she should be saying.

“Kimball,” Wash says, looking her square in the eyes—well, in the visor, but even that’s rare enough for him. “She will be. It’s Carolina. She’ll be all right. Grey will take care of her.”

She can’t even force out a “Thank you,” as Grif lifts off the roof and pilots back to base. Kimball feels utterly drained, like her body might just collapse. When she thinks of Carolina’s body, fallen motionless in the snow, her stomach feels hollow. When she thinks of the dead at Alpha, all the bodies they had to leave behind—

she feels about to cave in, the hollowness become a sucking vacuum, trying to collapse her in on herself like a dying star.

*

The walk to the war room isn’t long enough. She can’t remember the last time she felt this heavy. Not even downtown with Doyle in her sights, when Felix’s voice came over the radio, broadcast to everyone on the planet.

Times like this, it’d really be nice to be able to collapse in an uncontrollable sobbing heap on the floor. Be nice to have a place to do that. But she cannot do that. She is Vanessa Kimball, General of the New Republic and… whatever she and Doyle are, of the United Chorus. She doesn’t think they’ve earned the title of co-leaders. That implies a level of cooperation they’ve yet to reach.

Maybe she could’ve done better. Offered more compromise. Damned if she can figure out where.

*

She veers off to the nearest restroom, mumbling something to Wash about getting some water. The clip Wash is keeping at her side on the way to the war room, she’s genuinely nervous he’s not going to let her out of his sight, and she understands why. Time is of the essence now, and she’s clearly a mess. But after an appraising look, Wash nods, and goes on without her.

Kimball ducks into the washroom and takes off her helmet, avoiding her own haggard reflection to bend over the sink and splash cold water on her face. The smell of it is sharp, mineral, metallic when she licks her lips.

Her stomach heaves, once, but she hasn’t eaten anything in many hours.

Kimball cups her hands under the faucet and takes a long, slow drink. 

She straightens up again, shakes off her hands. Puts her back to the wall and leans for a moment, letting just a bit of the weight off.

What do you fight for, Vanessa Kimball?

For a better tomorrow.

That’s worth it, even if—

She bites off the rest in her mind. No negative mantras today. She can’t afford it. She’s on the edge of collapse already.

What do you fight for?

Sometimes she goes through names of the dead. There are too many for one sitting, have been for years, but she whispers through them anyway when she sits, passing them like beads on a string. For Mom, for Sayuri, for Lene, for Olive, for Carter, for Jasmine, for Deidre, for…

This is not a day to name the dead. Not with so many more lost at Alpha. She can hope there will be time for that later. Maybe even time to visit the ruins of the temple and offer prayers.

That in itself is something to fight for. For a future moment to honor the dead.

To honor the dead. For a moment of peace.

She controls her breathing. She doesn’t count, not in numbers, but feels the rhythm of it behind her ribcage, filling her body, saying life.

What do you fight for?

For Matthews, Ganoush, Rivas, Velasquez, Turner, Cody, Mukerjea, Dawes, Liu, Bitters, Jensen, Palomo, Andersmith, Marri, and the names march on.

For her people. For Chorus.

And for Carolina, too. For Wash, Tucker, Grif, Simmons, Caboose, Donut.

Because this is, inexorably now, their fight. Because they’ve chosen to stay and fight too, to make it theirs, and there is no more escaping for them than for anyone else. So Chorus's fate is now their fate, too.

She breathes.

For a better tomorrow.

She steels herself, pushes off the wall and heads for the war room.

*

It all happened because they split up. In hindsight, Vanessa can see that. In hindsight, she can see a lot of things.

What she can’t see is how she could’ve stopped it, all of it, from happening.

*

[shipping-n-handling]

could you do a fic where jemma comes to grips with fitz's death? I saw spoilers that she is living in a sort of denial cause fitz still lives in the present.

Hey anon! Okay, so this one got away from me. The entire fic is below the cut, but I want to preface this by stating it gets really really really sad. You were warned. Hope you like it!

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut as they docked aboard the Chronicom vessel, their own ship groaning and jolting as it clung to the larger vessel. Around her, the team was getting their gear ready and preparing to face whatever awaited them aboard Enoch’s hidden ship. Although the eccentric Chronicom was friends with them from their standpoint, those events had occurred in a future that now never existed in the current timeline. Because of this, there was no telling what defenses or traps that lay ahead of them as they scoured the ship for Fitz.

Fitz.

Jemma kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will away the emotions that threatened to overtake her. He’s still alive, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, she kept repeating over and over as her heart clenched involuntarily. Beside her, Daisy placed a soft hand on her shoulder. Finally relenting, Jemma opened her eyes to see her friend looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and determination. In that moment, she looked like the bright-eyed hopeful hacker that Jemma first knew all those years ago.

“Hey.” The Inhuman said carefully. “We’re going to find him. We’re not leaving here until we do.” Jemma reached up and placed her hand over Daisy’s and smiled, though it felt forced and empty, like she was looking at the future she almost lost.

“I know.” She said, trying to bring all her own determination and will to the forefront. Off to the far right, Mack was loading rounds into his shotgun-axe and Piper was making sure the ship was fully docked. A surge of affection for each of them, the brave individuals who followed her without question to rescue one of their own. It was enough to make small tears form in the corners of her eyes, betraying the strength she was trying to portray. “Thank you.” Jemma said genuinely to Daisy.

Her friend grinned crookedly. “As if you could’ve stopped me. I’ve been shipping the two of you since day one. No way a silly thing like space is going to keep the two of you apart.” Images rushed unbidden into Jemma’s mind.

Fitz looking down at her from their position on the couch, her fingers interlaced with his and his eyes sparkling with that light that Jemma knew would always make her own heart skip a beat, decades into any future.

“Who needs space?” Fitz asks, grinning the way he always did when something clever popped into his head. “’Cause I’ve got something magnificent right here.”

Okay, maybe not so clever. Cheesy, even. But it made Jemma’s smile widen even more regardless, and caused her heart to beat quicker. She tilted her head slightly, taking in for a moment the incredible man she fell in love with. Both of them had gone through so much, and she was so very tired of wasting any more time. Leaning forward, Jemma’s eyes lowered to his lips and began to close her own when he instead pointed to something on the wall.

“A picture of space.” A slight beat and Jemma couldn’t help but let out a laugh, shaking her head at the ridiculous, beautiful man next to her. “One of my most prized possessions, that is. I don’t know why it makes any significance –mmph.” The rest of his words were muffled by Jemma’s laughter and her insistent lips pressed against his own. Breaths of contentment escaped both of them as they settled deeper into each other’s embrace.

Jemma snapped out of her memory to an aching in her chest, like someone had taken a piece of her heart and ripped it away. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, she repeated in her head, her own hopeful mantra. With great effort, Jemma managed to push the feelings down and smile convincingly to Daisy’s words. As she stood and gathered her supplies, Jemma could not help but wonder how long she could keep this up.

The vessel, as it turned out, did have a few rudimentary security systems in place. While Mack and Yo-Yo took out the small turrets that lined the entrance hall, Daisy had somehow managed to hack into the advanced alien ship. They discovered one life form on board, which they immediately knew to be Fitz. The weight on her chest seemed to lessen slightly as they made their way into the heart of the vessel. Due to the many situations they had by now faced together, the group stayed in tight formation and cleared each corner with a swiftness and effectiveness that would have made May proud. Silently, Jemma wished her and the ailing Coulson well on their beach in Tahiti and hoped they had enough time together. The grief at Coulson’s soon-to-be demise nearly caused her to momentarily lose her focus, but Daisy’s quick movement ahead snapped Jemma back to reality.

After a few more moments traversing the halls and getting their bearings, the team made its way to the bridge of the ship, stopping once for Mack to silently wave signals and direct their movement. Another few moments, and suddenly they were face-to-face with  Enoch, who looked no different from the one they had known in the future, despite being over seventy years younger.

The Chronicom did not show fear, nor anger and his vessel being boarded. In fact, he seemed almost resigned to the fact and waited patiently for the team to clear the rest of the bridge. “You have succeeded, then?” He asked once they were finished.

They quickly recapped the dystopian future that they had just returned from, and all the consequences that their actions had created. Enoch did not show any emotion to the news that he sacrificed himself in the future, merely looked like a professor would when a student said something mildly interesting. Once they were finished, Daisy began scanning the monitors on the bridge. Jemma had begun doing so as soon as they entered, not even bothering to check the rest of the bridge for traps or greet the past version of Enoch. Her eyes poured over the data that sprang across the holographic screens.

“Agent Fitz is no longer with us.”

The words did not register with Jemma immediately. She still scoured the bridge’s screens and noted the data that stated one life form was aboard. After a few moments, the silence was deafening. Turning, she saw that the team was looking at her with simultaneous worry and pity. Anger began to well up inside of her, filling the hole that existed in her heart. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, she mentally recited, almost like a prayer.

“What do you mean, ‘no longer with us’?” She asked dangerously, causing even Enoch to look worried. At least, as worried as a Chronicom was capable of looking. “The scanners say one life form is aboard apart from us. Fitz is the only other person on this ship. You said that Chronicoms are made of a synthetic plastic alloy, which means you wouldn’t register on a bio scan.”

Enoch exchanged a meaningful glance with Daisy, who blinked away tears as she seemed to understand what was going on. “This is a Chronicom ship, Jemma.” She said, placing a hand on her forehead as the rest of the team seemed to almost wither, realizing their mistaken assumption. “Their scanners count members of their own kind. If only one life scan is showing it has to be Enoch, and only Enoch.” A pause. “Fitz isn’t here.”

No.

Jemma shook her head. “No.” Anger and grief poured out in equal measure, while her mind continued to convince her this was all some sort of twisted nightmare. “No, that is notpossible. Fitz is supposed to be here.”

Enoch appeared sad for the first time. “He was on board until a few weeks ago.” With a gesture, images of blurry invading forces appeared on the security feeds. “I was calibrating the vessel in the engine room when I heard the commotion. By the time I arrived back on the bridge, I saw a small ship make a jump into hyperspace and my own vessel was damaged. I have spent the last few weeks repairing the damage and was in the midst of installing a new security system when you arrived. The ease that your team avoided the larger security measures still troubles -”

He was cut off by Jemma stepping forward. “I don’t care about your bloodysecurity system. Where –“ She stopped. All the events of their last few weeks in the future rushed back, coupled with all the hell that the team had endured over the past few years. Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe he was still here, after all. Daisy had been wrong before, after all. The scanners might have been tampered with, Enoch could be lying to protect his charge from alterations to the timeline, or he may have stashed Fitz somewhere the invading group would not have looked. Hope burst forth in her chest, maddening in its fervor and desperate beyond belief.

“No.” She said firmly. “No.” Without a backwards glance, Jemma suddenly dashed from the bridge, ignoring the cries of warning from the team. She was intent on searching every single inch of this damned ship. Fitz had to be here. He simply had to. As she ran, images began flashing in her mind.

A smiling Fitz and his curly hair, hefting a heavy box filled with lab equipment as they made their way towards the enormous plane. Something stirred in Jemma’s being as she watched him gush over the possible technical specifications of such a vessel, suppressing a giggle as he nearly tripped over the runway that led down from its interior. His sniff of embarrassment gave only a slight pause before he resumed his long-winded excitement. She felt a surge of fondness for her best friend as they finally entered the – their, she had to remind herself – lab. Jemma was ecstatic to begin their time with the legendary Agent Coulson and his special team.

A sudden sharp turn caused her to nearly bounce off the opposing wall due to her speed as she could hear Daisy and Mack calling for her from somewhere in the distance.

The fear that he might become infected with her contracted Chitauri virus spurred Jemma on as she hefted the fire extinguisher. She would do anything, absolutely anything, to avoid him sharing her fate. If she had to die, so be it, but she would be damned if Fitz had to suffer for her mistake.

“I’m so sorry.” She breathed as the fire extinguisher hits the back of her friend’s head, leaving him sprawling on the lab floor. She was sorry not just for what she was about to do, but for all the times that she would miss with him. Suddenly, she was grateful she never acted on her little crush on Fitz; it would have made what she was about to do next to impossible. Placing the extinguisher on the counter, Jemma pressed the button to the lab door and made for the back of the plane…

Each room the looked in was empty. Instead of increasing the hopelessness, the empty rooms seemed to fan her desperation as she continued to traverse the vessel, wary of setting off any of Enoch’s other security measures. It would not do to be killed only seconds away from seeing Fitz again.

Fear engulfed her as she stood by Trip and Agent Hand. Coulson and the rest of the team had landed in the Playground and were beset on all sides by HYDRA agents. The idea of Fitz being caught in the middle of a firefight was one she was desperately trying not to imagine, while the thought of him possibly being a double agent never even crossed her mind. He was Fitz, after all. Loyal, sweet, innocent Fitz. He could no more hurt the team or betray her than she could. As soon as she was able and Agent Hand allowed, Jemma ran to her best friend, thankful that he was still with her.

Jemma’s breathing became ragged, the sound of her pounding steps echoing off the empty hall. The fact it was empty began to annoy her at each passing moment. Where was he? He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, she repeated over and over as she continued on.

The shimmering light of the ocean danced on the wall behind him, almost capturing him in an ethereal light. Jemma, for the first time in a long while, could not form words as she replayed Fitz’s last statement. All she could do was reach out and hold him, trying to convey all the feeling she had for him into her touch. Jemma reached out and placed her hands on either side of his face, peppering him with kisses that seemed to become more and more desperate. While she was still unsure how she felt about his admission, Jemma knew deep down in her bones that she loved him, whether romantically or not. She loved him, and she did not want him to sacrifice himself for her.

“No,” She kept repeating, tears blurring her vision and choking her words. “No.” A final smile, and suddenly his hand shot downward faster than she could move.

As the water rushed in, all she could do was scream.

The sound of the team gaining on her position spurring Jemma on, not willing to be taken from her task. Fitz had to be here, he just had to be. The thought of coming all this way for nothing, only to be separated again, was unacceptable. She would notaccept that he was gone. Again.

Flashes of the year after the pod flooded in, the feelings of heartache and loneliness while undercover nearly overwhelming her. Jemma told herself it was the right thing, to separate herself from him so that he could recover properly. Still, a large part of her felt guilty for leaving him so suddenly. She had wanted to stay, to never leave his side again, but the facts were undisputable. As long as she remained, he would never get better. The realization that day, sitting at his hospital bed after the fourth week of therapy and him still unable to speak, had nearly hollowed out her spirit. They hadn’t been apart for this long since the Academy, and Jemma soon realized why. The world just…less without him. So she buried herself in her undercover work, hoping beyond hope that her sacrifice would mean Fitz would be well by the time she got back.

She was finally getting to the back of the ship where Enoch had said he was when the invading group struck. Fitz would have been fascinated by the design of the alien ship, but Jemma was less than impressed by it. All it seemed to be doing was keeping her from reuniting with him.

When she returned, things were worse than she could have ever imagined. Having Fitz unable to speak or remember her was one thing, but having him despise her was even worse. She told herself over and over the reasons why she left, but every interaction only made her doubt them even more. After months of cold indifference and increasing separation from her, Jemma was barely sleeping anymore. She had spent months making sense of what happened in the pod, and finally coming to grips with how she felt about him. Now, she was hesitant to show it, for fear of him thinking she was mocking him. It was madness, having these feelings unlocked and unable to do anything about it. Is this how Fitz felt all that time? Her heart fluttered every time he entered the room,  and sank lower when he did not talk with her like they used to. None of it made sense, and she was not sure her emotions could take it. What horrible wrong had she committed in her life to make this be her fate?

Jemma paused in her frantic search, convinced now that she had already passed by this hallway. Frustration narrowed her vision, and she instead turned down a previously unknown hallway to the lower parts of the ship.

Slowly, over months and months, they managed to repair their friendship. It had taken far longer than she had ever anticipated, but Jemma was beyond happy that they were on good terms again. It felt like she could breathe again, and suddenly her days were not so morose. Then the bloody idiot decided he needed to be a hero again. After watching Hunter and Bobbi, Jemma knew that she had to say something. Anything. Keep him from going, if it came to it. She was determined, yet terrified that she might mess it up again. After initially stumbling over her words, Jemma finally was able to quietly voice the hope that seemed to soar in her chest. The look in Fitz’s eyes as he beheld her, vulnerable and clinging to his hand like he was a lifeline, was one of incredulity and…love. It was unmistakable, and she nearly sobbed in relief that it she hadn’t ruined them yet. The moment was shattered as Coulson entered and called Fitz away, leaving her alone once again and breathlessly worrying like she had for the past year.

When he finally returned, she was content to simply have him back. Their talk could wait until things returned to normal, and Jemma was determined not to rock the boat. Her surprise when he boldly asked her to dinner was almost palpable, but so was her joy. She watched as he awkwardly fiddled with the door to the obelisk, his nervousness making him all the more endearing and causing the corners of her lips to pull upward. The promise of a date made her spirit soar, and she couldn’t help a small but fierce grin when he left the room.

Then everything went black. Then blue.

The memories of Maveth nearly caused Jemma to pause, but she eventually continued on. Behind her, Daisy came into view and finally caught up with her.

“Jemma,” She said, panting. “Hold on, please.” Despite her drive forward, Jemma forced herself to pause.

“Don’t try to stop me, Daisy.” She said fiercely. “Fitz has to be here. He just has to.”

Her friend looked like she wanted to argue, but Jemma was genuinely surprised when the Inhuman nodded. “If you say he is, I believe you.” Tears of gratitude began to well up in Jemma’s eyes. “I’ve got your back.” Jemma did not know what to say.

Daisy wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Well, what are we waiting for? Lets go get him.” With that, the pair continued on down the increasingly dark hallway.

Memories continued to fly unbidden into Jemma’s mind.

Endless nights trapped on that hellish planet. Losing all hope. Being forced to live each day with the fear of dying away from him, away from the team, was nearly the end of her. Jemma recounted the horrible day when she could no longer look at their pictures in her phone, and the realization that maybe, this time, there was no rescue. But we’re going to dinner, she kept thinking. The promise kept her pushing forward for weeks, but eventually the weight of the situation and the lack of any hope settled in. It was the first and only time she truly gave up. Memories of her mistakes and nightmares nearly clouded her judgement.

When that flare shot over the desolate blue horizon, Jemma almost felt reborn. Hope exploded within her, and soon she found herself struggling against he harsh winds to find the hand of the man who refused to give up on her. Who would always find her. When she was finally on Earth again, the joy of being home with him was only surpassed by the guilt and the debt she felt towards the man she left behind on Maveth. And Fitz, bless him, took all of it without complaint, which she soon found to be incredibly annoying. How can he be fine with this? That she felt love for another man? That he wanted to help her retrieve him potentially at the cost of the world’s safety?

She soon discovered that he was equally as frustrated, culminating in the first of what she had then hoped would be many more kisses. As fierce as it was tender, Jemma wonder how in the world they had gone without doing that for all these years. His remark that they were cursed cut her to the bone, reminding her that despite her insistence that destiny was a false construct, their lives had been nothing but obstacles in the way of happiness. After seeing another round of horrors, it seemed to them pointless to avoid feeling what they felt towards one another. The memories of their first night together brought heat to Jemma’s cheeks. They had crossed the event horizon. If they were going to suffer, they would do it together. If they were going to fight the good fight, they were going to do it together. Nothing would stand in their way again.

Together, Jemma and Daisy made quick work of the halls and the rooms within them. Very soon, the pair encountered a locked door that led to where Daisy stated was the cargo hold. If Fitz was anywhere aboard the ship, he would be inside here. Jemma waiting anxiously as her friend manually attempted to hack the door.

Flashes of AIDA and the Framework flitted around in Jemma’s mind, conjuring up feelings of desperation and fear. The simulated world had been one of Jemma’s worst nightmares, watching the man she loved become something she could barely recognize. In her darkest moments, the feeling of that cold gun pressed to her head still makes her heart clench in fear. Fitz’s expressionless eyes pouring into her own as he demands she state she never loved him. Her squared jaw as she denies him this excuse to kill her, instead stating plainly that she loved him, as if it were the secret to the universe, to life itself. Hearing that she meant nothing to him in return was akin to experiencing all the months after HYDRA and Maveth in one heart-shattering moment.

In the aftermath of the Framework, the two of them leaned on each other to recover and to make sense of what had happened. Having the Doctor’s personality within him was something that traumatized Fitz and what caused him to doubt whether or not Jemma should truly love him at all. She tried to assuage such thoughts with a touch or a reassuring word, but nothing seemed to be good enough. When he was kidnapped by AIDA and finally voiced that he was irrevocably in love with Jemma, her heart only then began to truly heal. They resolved to work through their experiences together, and Jemma could still remember the feeling of his hand caressing her back as they sat in that diner.

With a jolt, Jemma watched as the door slid open to reveal a dark and foreboding-looking room. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, she continued to say.

“Jemma,” Daisy started, but as soon as she spoke the lights came on, illuminating the space.

Months of captivity and servitude to Kasius was degrading enough without acknowledging the pit in her stomach that always seemed to form when Fitz was not there. As far as she knew, he was trapped in the past and had already lived out the rest of his life without her. The thought was almost unbearable to consider, and lived as a silent behemoth in the back of her head whenever she thought of him during her captivity. When she turned the corner to see him that day, sauntering over and staring at her like he had the day they first kissed, Jemma’s world halted and suddenly things were hopeful again. They escaped together, defeated their enemies, and even managed to return to the present, all while remaining together.

Jemma had originally envisioned being married in a small church with her family and close friends, somewhere in the rolling countryside of England. From there, they would move to their cottage in Perthshire, where their lives would remain peaceful and free from any world-shattering danger. Being married in a forest dimension within a secret underground bunker was definitely not the wedding she had envisioned, but it was still everything that she had ever wanted.

Jemma blinked as she adjusted to the light.

“I think that you’re perfect.” Fitz almost breathed as they held hands, his eyes shining. “And um, I don’t deserve you, Jemma. I don’t.” He reiterated as she cocked her head to the side in smiling disagreement. “I don’t deserve you. And I’m well aware that I am the luckiest man on any planet.” More sniffles from Jemma and the others as Coulson gave the two of them their rings.

“Quickly please, before this forest collapses around us.” Chuckles echoed throughout the smiling crowd. Coulson paused, and looked incredibly proud. “Okay, Fitz, repeat after me. ‘With this ring’-“

Fitz reverently slid the ring over her finger. Jemma’s smile widened as she beheld it and gripped his other hand tighter. “With this ring-“ Fitz repeated, looking at her with the stars in his eyes.

“I thee wed.” Coulson finished.

“I thee wed.” Fitz repeated. Jemma swallowed the lump in her throat as she repeated the same, sliding the ring onto his finger and watching as he let out a breath.

Jemma could hear Daisy sniffing and saw Mack grinning as he filmed the event. Coulson looked at the two of them proudly as he stated, “Now by the powers vested in me by…well, by the two of you, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife.” A pause. “You may kiss the bride.” Jemma’s lips found Fitz’s and the sounds of her friends – no, her family- cheering filled her ears as they parted. Grinning blissfully like the two idiots in love they were, Jemma could not remember in that moment when she had been happier.

Blood was everywhere.

The few pieces of cargo in the ship were tossed and on their side, while the cryo chamber that Fitz had clearly been in was smeared with a mixture of red blood and some green liquid. Two hand-shaped bloody smear marks led away from the pod, as if someone had been badly wounded and then was pulled forcefully from the room. Beside her, Daisy staggered backward in horror at the sight until she hit the wall, covering her mouth. Behind her, the team had finally caught up with them and their gasps could be heard alongside Daisy’s.

Jemma couldn’t breathe.

He was gone. Fitz was gone. He was taken and, judging by the amount of blood in the room, was badly wounded. By the look of it, he gave whatever group that took him a good fight before finally being dragged off. Slowly, Jemma walked up to the pod that had until recently contained the love of her life. Placing a hand on the exterior, she saw that the bloodstains originated from within the pod and seemed to even be on the inside of the window. The reality of the situation seemed to hit her all at once, knocking Jemma to her knees. Hot tears began falling unbidden from her eyes, which were now screwed shut in frustration and grief.

Jemma heard what Mack said, but did not quite believe it. It wasn’t possible, she reasoned. He had promised to always be with her, no matter what. They had survived space, time travel, alien invasions, and countless other obstacles. Death was the least challenging thing they had encountered, and it seemed oddly small compared to their experiences. The possibility of having to live without Fitz for the rest of her life seemed to envelop her and drag her down into the abyss. He couldn’t be gone, she reasoned. If anyone was going to kill him, it would be Jemma if he kept her waiting any longer. For a few moments, she held her breath, half-expecting him to walk in the room after Mack’s silent departure. When he didn’t saunter in with that smile or the stars in his eyes, Jemma was forced to consider that maybe…

Wait.

Time travel. The team had time travelled to the future. Fitz had to follow them the only way that he could without the aid of a monolith; suspended animation. That meant that somewhere in the present time, there was a version of him before his arrival in the future. Not dead. Still alive.

Her Fitz.

The thought propelled her forward, suppressing the grief and anger that threatened to overtake her. He’s still alive, she told herself. There was nothing to be worried about; they would find him and everything will be okay again. As plans began to form in her mind, Jemma kept the darkness from overtaking her by reciting the same words like a chant, like a prayer of some dark recess of her heart. He’s still alive, he’s still alive, he’s still alive, Jemma continued to think, pushing her feelings ever deeper.

For the first time in weeks, her mantra did not save her. Grief overtook Jemma like a strong wind, bearing her ever forward toward the realm of despair. All the fear and sadness that she had been suppressing over the past few weeks seemed to rush in at once. Yet despite this realization Jemma knew one thing.

She would find Fitz again. If there was one thing the universe had shown them, it was that no matter how far apart they were or how many dangers lay between them, nothing could stop them indefinitely.

They would always find each other.