#not them holding hands midfight

[paracosm-draw]

I forgot how freaking good the lightsaber fights were in the OWK show

I love that we get to see Obi-Wan fight again and not hold back against the Empire or Anakin. His fighting style seems so much more offensive, more aggressive and I think it shows a bit of his character development, how he has changed in 10 years.

I love it, masterpiece.

[syluscrows]

Sylus taking care of his chronically ill pookie // hurt / comfort / fluff and slight NSFW

WRITTEN IN THE PERSPECTIVE OF AN INDIVIDUAL WITH VEDS / SBS AND ASSOCIATED DISORDERS USING THE SYMPTOMS EXPERIENCED.

Tags: Sylus x reader, gender neutral reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, chronic illness, Sylus being a sweetie pie, and sylus being a jerk...

Tw: organ rupture mentioned, joint dislocation, weak skin / bruising, discussion of shortened lifespan.

- His initial reaction to you telling him is his usual nonchalant self. He doesn't really seem to care, but only in the nicest way possible. Externally he's the exact same at first - internally his dusty brain cogs are spinning like mad, thinking 'what the fuck does that mean'

- He will probably buy you a get well soon basket.. for a chronic condition..

- unbeknownst to you, he has no idea what it is and immediately researched it.. and poor gramps didn't know how dramatic Google was when it came to medical conditions so he only thought of the worst outcomes.

S: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR ORGANS COULD RUPTURE?!"

Y/n: "Sylus, there's emphasis on the 'could'.."

- you have to reassure him that it's not THAT bad, but the whole shortened lifespan stuff coming up does scare the crap out of this poor man.

Y/n: "sylus it's not exactly the most accurate thing.. we don't know if it'll be that early." You assure him, but he clearly doesn't find that reassuring at all, as someone who can't die, he never thought he would feel so strongly about someone who COULD die, much sooner than expected. You can tell it's left a pit in his stomach that won't go away regardless of what you say.

- He's more careful when you two are sparring, or play fighting.

- (in the perspective of a reader who is a hunter) He knows you can take care of yourself in fights. Witnessing you effortlessly slamming a joint back into place midfight etc. gives him reassurance at this, but that doesn't mean there won't be a certain crow checking up on you now and again when you're apart.

- The first time y'all get freaky he's mortified by the amount of bruises on you. How are they so dark? And so big? It looks like you've gotten into a fight.. And the bruises he leaves on you after are even worse.

- And your skin is so soft he can't keep his hands off of you. 😌

- Bless this man when your limbs go numb and you have to wait out the pins and needles in order to move, he knows exactly what to do. Usually you would have to wait for the uncomfortable feeling to dull down so you can move your legs to regain blood flow, but with Sylus around you don't have to worry, although it feels awful when he does it, he lifts your leg and bends it until the feeling goes away, ensuring the blood flow returns sooner so you aren't uncomfortable for long.

- Afterwards he's asking you where all of the bruises are from. "What about this one?" "Sylus I told you I don't know, they just appear! It probably happens when I sleep!" Oh boy do you regret saying that, this man protects you from everything, you might as well be wrapped in bubble wrap.

- If you use mobility aids, throw them out, he will buy you better ones, fancier ones, maybe even custom ones to match whatever vibe you like.

- let's just say he gets a bit too rough one day and there goes your hip, straight out of the socket.. he immediately apologises over and over again, and despite his usual emotional constipation you can tell it's given him a scare as he tries to figure out what to do, asking if you need to go to hospital, if he can put it back for you.. and despite the immense pain you're in, it's still adorable to see him like that.

- you stand up too fast and immediately just stand there and lean against something until your brain descrambles. He honestly finds it kinda cute, and has to hold back the urge to be malicious... His evil lil heart would love to one day rush you to walk forward and watch you fall, but his soft side is strongly fighting against it.

- You do have to talk him out of treating you like you're fragile, which is irritating. You find yourself constantly reassuring him.

- despite his stoic, cold exterior, he does piss himself laughing when you don't manage to lean against something in time when you're light headed, falling over sideways. Laughter is the best medicine, after all. Of course he's concerned, but only for a split second..

- the brain fog is his favourite part. "What did I just say?" You say with an adorable confused expression on your face, or when you place something down and it's as if it's suddenly phased out of existence. He doesn't care if it makes you slightly tardy on your timekeeping, if you're late you're late, you can't help it.

- the brain fog doesn't exactly make it easy to give you tasks.. he ends up sending you a million messages to remind you of what he's asked you to do.

- The man cringes so hard when you're walking along like nothings happening as if your hip isn't clicking loudly with every step. He is clueless to the fact that it doesn't actually hurt every time...

- The first flare-up he felt helpless, being so uneducated and just watching you in pain, hardly able to do a thing. By the time you'd had a few flare-ups around him he gathered a routine. Running baths, getting ointments for your joints, millions of heat pads, practically staying at your side like a lil servant. You insisted it wasn't necessary, since you've functioned through many flare-ups beforehand, but he won't listen.

- There's an emergency box with instructions in case he isn't around so that Luke and Kieran can take care of you too.🥹

[teecupangel]

How would the assassins react to meeting the Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles?

Since you didn’t specify which TMNT we’re going for, we’ll make this a bit generalized and twist it a little bit.

The Assassins of old (with Layla and Desmond) get sent into New York. They hide in an abandoned warehouse while trying to get everyone up to speed.

The weirdest thing is that everyone is speaking English.

To be more exact…

Layla feels like most of them are getting ‘dubbed’ to English.

Desmond has no idea what this means because they sound fine to him. They sound like they’re speaking in English.

Even the people who should not be speaking English (like Arno, Bayek, etc) know they’re speaking in English and are confused by it.

They��re able to talk long enough to figure out some things, Ezio recognized Desmond and figured that backing him up would be for the best. There was no need for Desmond to lie to them, after all.

Desmond gets Altaïr on board by making him believe that he saw his memories and wrote something in Arabic on his palm that none of the others saw. Altaïr’s on board for now but Desmond knew that the man would find some way to get more information in the outside world soon so Desmond better start setting up a computer with internet connection and enough firewall to not get them pinged by Abstergo once Altaïr learned how to google.

The Kenway duo, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Edward get roped into his side last. Desmond talked to Ratonhnhaké:ton about how he’s also his ancestor but Ratonhnhaké:ton is a bit wary, considering the last time he believed someone with ‘knowledge of the future’ but he agreed to go along with it because Desmond sounded sincere. Edward joins them because he learned Ratonhnhaké:ton is his grandson.

… they kept the whole Haytham Kenway thing a secret for now because…

All of them were taken from certain ‘ends’. Altaïr’s last memory was planning to join Maria in her journey. Ezio’s last memory was returning to Monteriggioni and sleeping with Caterina Sforza. Ratonhnhaké:ton’s last memory was a peaceful day in the homestead a week after Achilles’ death. Edward’s last memory is docking to England, holding Jenny’s hand (and he also assumed Ratonhnhaké:ton is Jenny’s son).

And it’s not just them.

Layla talked to the other Assassins because she was given brief summaries about their lives as well as the Brotherhood’s Animus missions concerning their memories.

The problem was Basim.

Basim’s last memories is arriving in Baghdad as a novice.

But Layla knows that Basim is a Sage of Loki. She also realized that Basim doesn’t know Loki or his memories of Loki aren’t… ‘awakened’ yet.

So Layla isn’t sure how to act around him.

Desmond decides that they need a phone to call the Brotherhood and asked Layla what her ‘secret’ number and code phrase is to contact Erudito.

That was easy to do considering Desmond is good at pickpocketing (Edward absolutely believes he got it from him, Desmond isn’t going to tell him that it’s actually Ratonhnhaké:ton’s Bleed).

They learn two things.

The number Erudito gave Layla doesn’t exist. The number Desmond also received as an emergency call number from Erudito doesn’t exist.

And…

There is no such thing as Abstergo in this ‘world’.

No Abstergo.

No Animus consoles (and Desmond is disgusted by how greedy Abstergo has become, profiting over his genetic memories???)

Nothing.

And because they were snooping around in a New York that was both familiar and unfamiliar to Desmond, he gets ambushed.

Or so they thought they were ambushing Desmond.

Instead, Desmond leads them to the abandoned warehouse the others were staying and began to whistle the same tune Ezio would use when he was getting guards to a trap that his recruits could spring on as part of their training.

So it becomes an all out brawl that gets stopped midfight because they realized they’re fighting… uuhhh… turtles.

What.

And a lot of their names sound familiar to Ezio.

It was official.

They were in another world getting attacked by… teenage mutant ninja turtles?

[enthblaze]

So… what’s the plot of Cockroach Terminator with Van involved? I bet he’d be determined to kill the mutated spy roach who DARES try to kill Raph for trying to kill it.

it's been a while since i last watched Cockroach Terminator, but i'll try my best

Van is the first to tell the brothers to knock it off when they make fun of him for getting scared. He does it in a jokey way, as not to demean Raph or anything, but Raph's thankful for it anyway

When it becomes clear the mutated roach's clear target is Raph - and only Raph - Van doesn't hold back in his attacks. He's ruthless with it, to the point where Leo has to yell at him to get back in his head or else they'll fail their mission with the Kraang.

Turning back, only to find the roach gone, Van is forced to leave the roach as second priority

While the brothers are focused on the Kraang plot, Van is keeping a lookout for the roach, and when it appears midfight, he engages before it reaches Raph

Raph disappears at one point, having taken shelter and Van knocks down the roach long enough for him to get away and find his brother behind the Shellraiser

Raph's freaking the hell out and Van has limited time to calm him down before the roach finds them again, so he quickly makes Raph do the "name 5 things u can see etc" technique

During this, the other brothers end up taking the roach in combat, successfully keeping it away, and then when it gets hit by the truck and seemingly bursts into flames, Van takes the driver's seat and gets them out of there

He gets into a screaming match with Leo as his twin tries to scold Raph for not being able to face his fear, and it's a heated fight between the twins that isn't a common sight to see

Van shuts down all attempts to poke fun at Rapg after the reveal of the cockroach only being mad at him, and practically stabs multiple holes into the Shellraiser floor with one of Leo's katanas, that he takes from his scabbards, hoping to kill the roach then and there

Van's fuming at this point and he decides he'll end this cockroach if its the last thing he'll do

Leo reprimands him for misuse of weaponry and also tells him to hone in his rage. Van doesn't hesitate to snark back

And when Leo then makes Raph bait for the roach, Van screams all sorts of colourful words at his brother

Van ends up taking on the roach itself, after its molting. Instead of Mikey being taken by the roach's new form, Van flings himself in front of his younger brother and is grabbed instead

Raph has another panic attack, blaming himself for Van's 'kidnapping', all the while Van is busy ending the creature's life, using his hook swords, a random stray Kraang-gun and a lot of gasoline

The brothers focus on ending the Kraang drill plot whilst Raph goes on a hunt for Van, only to find Van covered in mutant goo and the swords in his hands shaking

It had been a brutal fight, bc the thing never seemed to die, but he made sure it did

He made an unspoken vow to protect Raph at all costs. It's his duty as older brother. And he fulfilled just that

[melis-writes]

Victoria and Michael have a serious fight, tears are flowing, things are being thrown, Michael is so angry. BUT they have fight sex 😝

A fight sex prompt! 😳 It’s reminding me of the chapter where Victoria reconciled with Michael after spending some time apart from him in New York where lots of steamy, hot sex happened midfight. Ooooof! Gotta love it. 🥵🥵 Let’s set the scene, saying Michael returned from a business meeting trip in California with one of the Dons and Victoria’s a little jealous for reason’s we’re about to find out…

Despite being greeted by the giddy twins and little Vincent in the nanny Esther’s arms upon his arrival back to the family compound, Michael’s been questioning your lack of presence to welcome him home as you’ve always done countless times before when his vehicle pulled up to the estate.

Nowhere to be found or seen, Michael kissed his children and promised to show them what treats and gifts he brought back from California after their studies with the governness conclude for the day; still three hours or so left meaning he’d be able to spend the remainder of the afternoon with you—if you were there.

You’re not absent from the compound or out doing anything, and you’re completely aware that Michael’s arrived to the compound, however for the first time you couldn’t possibly care less about Michael’s return from a week long business trip.

Dressed in an ocean blue, collar dress that hangs off your shoulders for an elegant yet simple day look, you hum quietly to yourself as you continue with your daily chores as usual.

You set aside an empty laundry basket by the foot of the bed before returning your attention to Michael’s dry-cleaned suits packaged and hooked up neatly on the coatrack in the corner of the bedroom.

Michael takes off his black fedora, clutching it in the same hand he holds his suitcase before running a careful hand against the sides of his heavily gelled hair.

Michael steps into his and your estate, noticing a single pair of your shoes aren’t missing nor are your car keys by the foyer. The final indicator that you’re home to Michael is the sound of your soft footsteps upstairs, coming towards the bedroom where Michael heads towards.

You pull off the protective plastic packaging off each and every one of Michael’s suit sets, careful not to wrinkle them as you hold onto the sets by the coathanger before neatly hanging them up in Michael’s closet.

Of course you’ve heard the sound of the front door opening and closing shut from downstairs, expecting Michael to be up any minute now wondering why you hadn’t welcomed him as you always do and with a warm greeting for the first time in one week.

Naturally, you barely held back your tears when Michael left for his business trip to meet with Don Molinari in California, and everyday calls after Michael’s work and meetings for the day ended were the norm, but on the last evening when you’d usually give Michael a call, you discovered just what kinds of “entertainment” and “festivities” were on in full swing at Don Molinari’s casino-resort.

Michael walks up the spiral staircase, letting out a soft sigh and feeling the toll of his exhaustion from the trip hit him all at once. He wants to do nothing else except relax next to you after having been away from you for a week now at least before dinner’s prepared.

While Michael didn’t suspect anything was “wrong” per say when you didn’t call him Saturday evening, his mind is still curious as to why he hasn’t seen you just yet.

You shut Michael’s wardrobe after arranging his suits inside, and just as you let your hands linger over the wood of the wardrobe, you pause for a moment as you can sense Michael’s presence by the doorway.

Michael sets his suitcase down just by the wall inside the bedroom with his fedora over top of it, otherwise remaining standing right by the doorway with both of his hands in the pockets of his Dupioni grey, silk suit. “Hi, darling.”

“Hi.” You glance back over your shoulder at Michael, still keeping up the impression you’re busy as you scoop up the laundry basket by the bed.

“Weren’t downstairs for the welcome wagon.” Michael points out, watching as you push open the bathroom door.

One of the only things Michael looks forward to seeing after a trip of any kind is you and the children, not one or the other but both and being able to embrace you and give you a kiss after such an absence may as well be one of Michael’s favourite bits of casual affection—something you’re very well aware of.

“So you noticed,” you act as if everything’s completely fine, absolutely unbothered by what’s otherwise been spiking your jealousy on and off since Saturday evening as you empty the dirty laundry out of the bathroom bin and into your basket. “And maybe you also noticed these,” you hoist the laundry basket up as you step out of the bathroom, still preoccupied by your chores.

“Did you know I was coming at this hour?” Michael eyes the pile of laundry built up in your basket.

“I did.” You stand right in front of Michael politely, waiting for him to step aside so you can get to the laundry room. “Could you move, please?”

It’s right then and there that Michael picks up on your attitude and that your absence downstairs has nothing to do with knowing what time Michael would arrive home or your chores which you’d put down just to rush over and see Michael—especially after a week.

“No greeting first? No kiss? No welcome back?” Michael raises a brow at you, choosing to play by your game for a little while.

“Hi, honey. Welcome back.” You fake a smile, “now could you please move so I can wash our laundry?”

“Victoria.” Michael furrows his brows, taking one hand out of his pocket to wrap around your waist. “We haven’t seen each other in a week, I’ve missed you.”

Michael leans in to give you a kiss, but you place your fingers over his mouth and gently push him back. “You haven’t seen me in a week but you’ve seen Rita Duvall.”

“Victoria—” Michael steps aside as you push by with the laundry basket, briskly walking down to the end of the hallway where the laundry room is located.

“That’s all I have to say to you, Michael.” You call back out, letting the laundry bin essentially fall out of your hands in front of the washing machine.

“Do you know who Rita Duvall really is, Victoria?” Michael rolls his eyes, following after you as he loosens his tie.

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me,” you say back sarcastically, unable to hide your jealousy as you open up the washing machine.

“She’s a nobody and that doesn’t change when it comes to people like you or me.” Michael crosses his arms, standing inside the laundry room. “But she’s a name well known in the entertainment industry when it comes to wealthy ‘businessmen’. Don Molinari is no different, just as Barzini and Tattaglia are not. I know you know that much.”

“So you see her on every business trip you go to, hmm?” You throw in piles of dirty clothes inside the washing machine. “Since every Don in the country seems to be hiring the same showgirls—the same cocktail waitresses.”

“The same performer, dancer and singer.” Michael corrects you about Rita. “That’s why she’s at every major casino-resort.”

“You know so much about her now, don’t you? How about the fact she’s also a known escort? Fredo told me enough.” You scowl back at her. “And even if I was downstairs to see you come home, it’s not like you’d ever tell me she was there, would you?”

“Does it matter?” Michael scoffs, growing irritated. “It’s not like I hired her or know her personally. Why would I even care? Should I mention the names of every other waitress, escort and dancer there was?”

“You may as well.” You mutter under your breath. “I’m sure if Miss Rita is all handsy and affectionate with you in her songs and at tables, her friends are too.”

“Don’t act surprised about the company Don Molinari had.” Michael speaks to you sternly. “You’re used to the same sight, it’s private hired entertainment that I personally couldn’t care less about. It was just a part of the environment. Why are you reacting like this?”

“She’s never ‘just’ a part of your environment.” You shut the washing machine door, quick to rise back up to your feet. “And comparing Rita to your average cocktail waitress your brother used to mess around with back in the day is really beneath you, Michael. You know why I don’t like her. This is the exact same woman who used our separation to her advantage to bring you flowers after you were in a preliminary hearing for perjury, blackmail and arson—so DON’T try to make it look like I’m overreacting!”

Michael stares back at you, completely unphased by your tone of voice having grown much louder over his; Michael’s not stupid nor has he missed the point, he knows exactly what you mean and what you’re implying.

“She never stays away from you, Michael.” The corners of your eyes begin to sting with tears. “She’s allllll over you every single time she gets a chance. You’re in a different state for a week surrounded by the same people including her, how could I not react like this? What is she, your little mistress you play around with on your business trips?! While I do your fucking laundry at home with your three children and—”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Michael sharply raises his voice, overpowering yours. “Enough, Victoria, enough. You’re blowing this out of proportion and making it out to be something completely different.”

“GO BACK TO CALIFORNIA!” You point at his chest, bursting into tears as the laundry basket tips over. “If she’s still got a piece of you ensnared there so badly, don’t even bother to come home!”

“VICTORIA!” Michael snaps as you storm out of the laundry room in tears. “Don’t turn your back on me when I’m speaking to you!” He immediately follows you back into the bedroom before you slam the door right into Michael’s face.

“GO AWAY!” You shriek, trying to lock the bedroom door but Michael pushes it open, grabbing at your arms. “All I have to do is call Don Molinari and h-he’ll confirm everything for me! I know you were seeing that woman, I know you—”

“I was not!” Michael hisses, pushing you back into the bedroom as the door shuts behind the both of you. “What did I tell you countless times Victoria that for some reason you still can’t understand? Hmm?!” Michael firmly holds onto your arms. “Ask me, don’t accuse me, and don’t overreact—”

“Just stop!” You sneer, pulling away from him and taking off one of your flats, throwing it in his direction.

“Immature.” Michael rolls his eyes, stepping out of the way as the shoe hits your vanity table and knocks the décor pieces off of it. “Absolutely stubborn and immature.”

“That’s what I am!” You cry back out, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Immature and stubborn little wife, I’m not like—” You yank the collar of your dress down, spilling your breasts free as you squeeze them together, “not like your favourite little whore whose already fucked one of the Corleone brothers, right?!”

“Jesus,” Michael hisses under his breath, gesturing to you. “You’re making your point very loud and clear, Victoria—you’re jealous.”

“Yeah, I am.” You hiccup, loose strands of your hair falling out of your bun and onto your face. “And unlike you I can swallow down my pride and a-admit it because I love you, and because I refuse to share you with another woman that—” a surge of anger returns to you, remembering hearing, “Rita Duvall is nothing but a pleasure to have around with her band, she satisfies all of my guests and men with her services.

“One thing you’re not doing is throwing things at me like a child and accusing me of all of this.” Michael takes a step towards you, seeing that you’re practically shaking with anger. “That’s why you didn’t bother to call or come see me, hmm? I have you all figured out—”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.” You spit back as Michael pulls you closer to him by your hips.

“You’re my fucking wife!” Michael shouts at you. “I’ve been married to you for seven—”

“I don’t care!” You shriek, pissing him off further. “You accepted her stupid fucking flowers while I thought our marriage was on the line like it was nothing, you sat there all still and did nothing while she touched you and sang to you—”

“Stop. It.” Michael narrows his eyes, clasping his hand over your mouth to silence you.

You stop talking, staring up at your husband with a pissed expression, glassy eyes filled with tears of frustration, missing one shoe and with your dress pulled off your chest.

You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that the way Michael’s gripping your face and giving it a little shake to talk to you isn’t beginning to severely turn you on.

“You can do as you wish.” Michael lowers his tone, looking you in the eyes. “Call Don Molinari, ask him. Ask him for his surveillance footage, ask him about the photographs taken this week and he’ll tell you. Anyone will tell you and nothing you’ve said and accused me of will even be remotely confirmed. I know what you’re getting at Victoria—don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Having done so on purpose, you look up at Michael completely unimpressed by his answers, but still remaining quiet a she pulls his hand off of your mouth.

“I know what you’re getting at.” Michael nods at you, “the truth is I know you’ve never liked these back to back business trips—my absence. In reality, you know what you are?” Michael’s hand tilts your chin to face him directly as his other hand squeezes over your breasts. “You’re a whiny, attention seeking slut. All you want is my attention over you and nothing else—that’s why this jealousy of yours is springing up. You don’t think I know all your dirty tricks by now?”

“Oh yeah?” You grin through your tears, placing your hand over top of his upon your breast. “If you know so much, Don Corleone, why do you fall for it?”

“Don’t fucking tempt me, Victoria.” Michael pulls down your dress, bringing it down to your hips before snatching you up over his shoulder and pulling the rest of it off.

“I’ll do whatever I want—” You squeal as Michael tosses your dress aside like a flimsy piece of fabric, pinning you down on the bed.

“No, you won’t.” Michael hovers over top of you; the tip of his silk, black tie grazing the skin between your breasts. “I know what you want.”

“I’m not going to give you anything that easily.” You give him a sardonic smirk, kneeling off the bed.

You’re not able to make it off the bed before Michael grabs you by both of your hips and drags you back down on the bed. “I don’t fucking think so.”

“I’ll do this as often as I want!” You exclaim, managing to wriggle free and off the bed. “You just keep giving me what I want—”

“You want to be fucked like a whore?” Michael lunges at you, taking your arm and pulling you back towards him. “You want the attention like one? Hmm?!”

“What else do you think I’ve been thinking about since you left?” You breathe, trapped in Michael’s rough grasp. “Do to me what you did to her.”

“What I did do to her?” Michael raises his brow at you, growing all the more pissed. “I ignored her, I walked away from her and I paid her no attention—is that what you want me to do to you? Or are you acting like this because you want the attitude fucked out of you? Answer me!”

“Guess!” You giggle back breathily, feeling Michael immediately pull you up into his arms—wrapping your thighs around his waist as he presses your back against the bedroom wall.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.” Michael breathes hotly over your lips, letting his hands roam up and down your breasts eagerly. “Just the way you want me to.”

“Do it, do it, do it.” You speak through gritted teeth, already well aware of the wet patch that’s soaked through your panties from the whole ordeal. “Don’t tease me—do it.”

“Believe me, I’m done teasing you.” Michael’s voice is filled with frustration, husky and low as he lets his erect cock spring free from his trousers. “You’ll get what you’ve been begging for.”

“Mmm,” you grin back at Michael playfully, wetting your lips as he pushes your panties aside and presses his thick length against your entrance.

“Next time you want to be fucked rough—“ Michael tilts your head back against the wall, easing his cock inch by inch into your tight heat. “Get on your knees and ask like a good girl instead of giving me your fucking attitude!”

“Ohhhhhhh!” You shriek out in pleasure, pressing your hips back against Michael’s to feel every inch of him filling you.

“You won’t roll your eyes at me,” Michael scolds you as he immediately begins to ruthlessly fuck you up against the wall. “And you won’t fucking walk away with me when I’m speaking with you either!”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” you breathe back, challenging him further.

“No—“ Michael rams his hips back and forth into your tight hole ruthlessly. “You fucking won’t!”

The rough and quick pace that Michael fucked you in against the wall caused the hung up photographs and paintings found you both to shake.

“Fuck!” Your toes curl from the immense waves of pleasure washing over you; your body desperate to be fucked over and over again.

Even as Michael’s clearly frustrated with you for your bout of attitude while fucking you, your arousal spikes tenfold just as the sight of him pounding against you.

“Needy! Slut!” Michael grunts, thrusting his cock as deep he as can into you;

completely dominant and in control of every bit of your pleasure.

Strands of Michael’s gelled and slicked back hair comes apart from sweat and friction, dangling over his forehead.

“That mouth of yours—“ Michael squeezes your face harshly as you moan again, “only good for fucking, do you hear me?!”

“Y-yes!” You breathe out, desperate to lean in and kiss Michael but you’re pinned to your position against the wall.

Michael’s full, plush lips remained sorted open, letting out velvety, breathy moans through his thrusts. “This little pussy—“ he reaches his hand down, toying with your clit which causes you to moan even louder. “Is mine.”

“Ohhh yes! Yes, yes, YES!” You roll your eyes back in pleasure, letting Michael rock your body against the wall.

“Fuck!” Michael grunts as his cock slicks out of your pussy.

Before he thrusts back inside of you, Michael taps his cock lubricated with your pussy juices over your clit, causing you to whine and buck your hips insistently.

“S-said no teasing!” You squirm, wanting Michael to continue fucking you.

“Who says I’m teasing?” Michael gives your face a light smack before impaling you with his cock again in one swift motion.

Feeling himself about to reach his orgasm, Michael continues pounding his cock into your pussy like a wild animal, fuelled by nothing but life sexual frustration, anger and a lack of intimacy with you. “Good for nothing—whore!”

You’re barely able to form a coherent sentence from being fucked to a blubbering mess, only hearing skin slapping against skin and the wetness of your pussy lips sloshing against Michael’s cock.

Your thighs shake against Michael’s waist as he cups both hands under your ass and continues thrusting at a much faster pace.

“Uhhhhh, my Goddd!” You scream out, feeling your orgasm about to release.

Michael’s eyes snap open as he lets out a drawn out, sexy moan. “Yes, yes, yes, baby…!”

You cum over Michael’s cock to the sound of his moans, feeling his cock coaxing the orgasm Out of you.

Your cum gushes around Michael’s cock, mixing with spurts of Michael’s hot seed flowing inside of you.

“Not fucking done with you,” Michael growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair and hauling you to the bed forcefully. “Head down, ass up, NOW!”

[peggy-sue-reads-a-book]

If it’s not obvious, on this blog Patrochilles left Troy to have cowboy times in Pthia for the rest of their long and happy lives. It’s time to talk about their baby. You believe the earth is round, I believe Patroclus and Achilles adopted a baby sea nymph.

Achilles knows that his Pat always wanted a baby and this one is a sea nymph just like he partly is.

Pat isn’t so sure about raising a nereid but takes one look at her porcelain skin and silky dark hair and has to have her. He couldn’t possibly send her back to those freaky sea caves.

At first Patroclus is way more on it with the baby care but it’s hard because when she gets to upset she turns into an literal puddle. They keep arguing because Achilles wants to sleep train but she’s super fussy and just wants to be cuddled on Pat’s chest all night. Midfight Pat just loses it and says: SHES COHESIVE MOLECULES, ACHILLES. COHESIVE. MOLECULES. She needs me.

No, she doesn’t look like them. It’s completely fine.

Pat agrees to **just try** the crib. Her cries are the lonely howl of an ocean storm at night and it literally rains on them. Achilles leaps out of bed to get her. Patroclus falls asleep to the sound of him murmuring its ok, baby, daddy will never leave you. Daddy is so proud of your raging-monsoon powers. Daddy’s sorry you can sleep with us till college, you little portent of seafaring horror, you. And her breathing turns to peaceful waves.

No but really she’s Achilles baby princess and can have the world. He tries to hide it but how can he when they’re literally always holding hands and splashing each other in the pretty streams.

Pat carving all her toys out of wood.

She turns green and grows shark teeth and gils when she throws a tantrum.

Achilles giving Patroclus hair tutorials because “this is not a heteronormative situation, both of us can fix her hair, damnit.” Pat is hopeless at fixing hair.

Neither of them learns to sew and she just wears whatever.

Honestly tho she’s kind of feral being raised by two war criminals in the middle of the woods.

Achilles names her Cleo, as in the fem version of Patroclus. Pat tries to object because he hates his name but Achilles won’t hear of it. Her name is Cleo.

GRANDPA CHIRON. WE NEED HIM.

[south-park-meta]

i would eat up yr analysis regardless just bc I like contrarian to the norm interpretations dnsjdbdj

Hahaha WELL okay so first I don't think any of the kids are that good at fighting, but I do think that Stan's gang is better than Craig's. And a lot of that comes down to I think Craig's gang tend to have more 'normal' families. There's occasions where they're all playing where Craig's side seem to think it's WEIRD how seriously Stan's guys play games, while Stan's side seems to think it's weird Craig's don't get super intensely involved in it. So I think that Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman would be scrappier than the 'normal family' kids, but also be low-level seen as psychos by the other kids because of it. And like I said, even with that, I don't (necessarily) think any of the kids are GOOD at fighting.

So before I go further than that I will say that one of the problems I think with like, ACTUALLY getting into how they fight is that it's one of those things that's kind of based on what's funny. It's like how Crimson Dawn plays legit, good death metal vs how the kids' music is often cute but not actually good; them fighting is kind of just one of those 'who's good/better at it comes down to what's funnier' things. So I think there could be a case for pretty much any of the four main boys being better at it than the others.

But from my memory they all seem relatively evenly matched between the four of them; early seasons Stan and Kyle kick Cartman around a bit to bond, when Stan and Kyle fight each other there doesn't really seem to be a 'winner', when Cartman and Kyle fight I think they win/lose/draw about the same in total (Kyle pins Cartman in It's a Jersey Thing, Cartman whoops Kyle in the recent special, and even though Kyle needed help in the end of Cartoon Wars it came at the end of a lengthy back-and-forth so they seemed pretty square).

So with thinking they're about even, physically, and all technically equally as capable, I think their moralities start to become a factor. I think it is more likely that Cartman would win in a sincere fight with Kyle, I think it is most likely that Stan and Kyle would draw, Stan and Cartman is a toss-up (I think Stan because I do think he's more physically capable, but when it comes to morals Cartman would START OUT with the upper hand), and...idk with Kenny. I guess if Kenny were sincerely PISSED like, in Mysterion-saving-the-world mode I think he'd beat all of them, but I can't think of enough of his fights to weigh in too much.

My thinking comes down to this: Kyle would rather lose a fight fairly than win one unfairly. Cartman would rather win no matter what. Stan would rather win fairly but would fight unfairly if the other kid is.

I think the clearest way to see this is between Cartman and Kyle, and I'll use the 3 examples I can think of off the top of my head and hopefully kind of remember: Cartoon Wars, It's a Jersey Thing, and Return of Covid.

It's a Jersey Thing- Kyle wins, easily, without question. Why? Because he's not his typical 'Kyle' self. He's in 'Jersey mode' where he doesn't care about being fair. In fact the entire point of the episode is that 'regular' values of what's polite and decent are shirked. Cartman whines and moans to try and get sympathy because he can't win with Kyle in this mindset.

Cartoon Wars- Cartman and Kyle have a pretty tit-for-tat fight for a longass time but it does seem like Kyle is going to lose in the end without help. Why? Because Cartman keeps taking pot shots, dirty tricks, changing rules midfight. And Kyle adheres to them in order to fight 'fair'. Being a decent person, Kyle can hold out against dirty tricks but will likely lose without help.

Return of Covid- Kyle loses handily, without question. Why? Kyle was going for a regular type of a fight. Like his goal was just 'I'm pissed at Cartman and want to deck him'. Cartman tells his family to leave the room and was setting an 'I'm going to kill Kyle' plot in motion. Like I don't think Kyle would have died: I think Stan would have stepped in at some point, or arguably Cartman would have given up in the end-- the times in the show where Cartman is going to 'win' by having Kyle die, he does always step back from the edge of it. But he ABSOLUTELY went into it with a more extreme mindset than Kyle did, and with a more extreme mindset than Stan or probably any other character would have, too. He was willing to fight dirty the entire time, and the goal was Kyle's death.

I think physically Kyle could probably take Cartman. But when it comes down to the actual fights, he's more likely to lose (especially as the series progresses), because he's always going to go into it with the mindset of being as fair as possible. Cartman always takes unfair shots, like attacking Clyde when they're playing superheroes. I also think this is why Kyle and Stan are pretty square: they're physically pretty equal, and they aren't going to take pot shots against each other. I think Stan would start fighting unfairly against Cartman if Cartman did it first-- if they'd been fighting in Cartoon Wars and Cartman took a nut shot, Stan would act the same, though I don't think he'd start off with cheap shots until the other guy did.

I think a lot of the thoughts of their fighting comes down to who's literally physically superior. But I think it ACTUALLY comes down to who's willing to fight dirty which is that: Craig's gang doesn't really, they're pretty 'regular' kids. Kyle is scrappier than them but wants a clean fight. Stan (and probably Kenny) want clean fights but WILL fight dirty. Cartman's fights are always dirty. Saying one would beat the other doesn't necessarily mean one's tougher than the other.

[kinkyacademia]

Can I request Dabi omegaverse x reader? Where she’s a UA student and they meet midfight and she has this “oh fuck” kinda moment? Headcannons work too! Thank you so much! Can’t wait to see/read what you do💕💕💕💕

Hi Meatballs, it’s been a while! Sorry that I can’t be so cheery in my reintroduction, my laptop just reset on me in the middle of writing, and this whole request was SCRAPPED and I’m absolutely PISSED because it was going so well. But, anyways, I’m at least half off my haitus and I’m gonna try and write at least once a week, but more likely a couple times a week once I’ve eased myself back in!

PS. I know I’ve written a request like this before, but it wasn’t with omegaverse. Dabi’s only a couple years older than Y/N in this!!

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

An omega getting into the country’s most prestigious fighting academy? You bet your ass you got in! Suppressants worked wonders if you could ignore the overpowered smell of alphas around you, and it was easy when you hung out with your fellow omegas.

Uraraka and Aoyama were a couple of the omegas you hung out with, along with a couple betas like Midoriya. Kirishima used to join you guys during lunch and after school, but now he was caught up with his alpha. All these factors fell into place when the League of Villains attacked the UA training camp. You had been on the scare run with Aoyama, and he was clinging onto you for dear life.

“Couldn’t we just sit and wait for help?” He pleaded, dragging along the ground behind you. You hesitantly shook your head, plunging deeper into the woods and closer to the camp grounds.

“It would be stupid to wait. These are villains, and they won’t wait to rip you in half. Come on, let’s - Aoyama!” You groaned as he detached himself and curled up in a large, thick bush. You had to reason with him to stay put while you got help, and to run back to the Wild Wild Pussycats if the fire got too close. You left him there while you pushed on towards the camp, small branches and ferns scraping you and letting your pyjamas get stained with a bit of blood.

“Was it, Twice?”

“No, it’s never enough, burn them to the gr-! Yeah, it’s just enough to scare them, but not enough to spread paste these woods.” The first voice was a low purr, and the second was a higher pitch with a psychotic undertone. You didn’t recognize them, and therefor got low and hid far enough away to see them and not let them smell you.

One was in a skin tight suit, and the other had purple scars and a trench coat. The one with the staples didn’t seem too intimidating, though, but you kept your guard up - Aizawa had told everyone about him and his fire quirk.

“Hold up, I think one of them is close,” The crazy one looked around a couple times in surprise at the other’s words - he must be a beta. You quietly took a couple steps back, angry at yourself for getting too close.

That’s when the smell hit you. Actually, it was when his smell hit you. Like a pot of honey, it drenched over you, and you cursed your suppressants for not being effective enough to ward his power completely off. He must be a very, very strong alpha.

“Those bushes,” Like many times before, you had to push your hormones down and stand straight up, readying your quirk - breathing out a substance that quickly cooled into a hard, rough rock that broke off after a few minutes. You blew onto your fists, staring the - damn - tall villains with the best glare you could muster,  “Oh, looks it’s just an o-”

“Shit,” You whispered under your breath. His smell hit you again like a wave, and you knew it wasn’t the suppressants not doing their job this time.

This was your alpha.

“Come on, let’s kill her! - I mean, let’s rough her up a little and move on,” The bodysuit guy who you assumed to be Twice chimed, and the other nodded slowly, closing his wide blue eyes.

“I’ve got this one, I’ll meet back with you later,” The fluffy haired guy waved the other off, and you swallowed your pride and approached them with full intent to fight.

“Don’t underestimate me, villains,” You growled, blowing once again onto your fists before using your recently-learned, not quite honed martial arts training to jump kick Twice, trying to initiate a battle so that you didn’t have to pay attention to these damn hormones.

He ducked, grabbing your other leg and pulling it out from under you. You forced yourself not to squeal - where had that even come from? - and pushed against the ground with your hands, falling back onto your feet and charging them again. The damn alpha quickly pushed the other back.

“Hey-!”

“I said go, Twice,” He snapped, and you ducked under his arm that was alighting in flames. He whipped around in surprise, and you slammed your foot into his back, forcing him to stumble forward. You hooked your leg around his own, and fell down with the tall brute. Breathing against his neck, his damn neck, you melded him to the ground. Instead of having Twice help him, he gave the villain a thumbs up.

Twice finally scrambled off to join the others, and you let him while attempting to pin the guy’s hands to the floor. Without so much as minimal effort, the alpha snapped your bonds and hooked his legs around your own, flipping you off of him and taking the breath out of you. As you wheezed, trying to get up, he simply sat on your legs, staring you straight in the eyes with his piercing blue own.

He was insanely intimidating, and you slowly leaned back until your head rested against the ground in submission. Like a lion’s purr, he told you his alias, “The name’s Dabi, and you’re way, way you out of your league, Omega.”

“Sh-shut up, villain,” You barely managed, and as he went to grab your hands to pin them, you rolled him off of you and pushed yourself up, scurrying back and grabbing a tree, “I won’t accept whatever our bodies are telling us. You’re a villain, a ruthless killer, I w-”

His voice easily overtook your own as he jumped up with grace and stalked towards you, your eyes having to travel higher and higher the closer he got.

“You will obey, you don’t have any other choice. We were made for each other,” He snarled, and the sound pulled a whimper from your lips. You didn’t have the will to stop him as he grabbed your hands and pinned them above you to the tree, scraping them in the process.

“I won’t… I c-can’t…” You whined, weakly pushing against him. Why did this have to happen? Couldn’t you match with a hero, a civilian, hell, even a vigilante?

“Now that we’ve met, neither of us can go back to being alone. You know that,” He leaned down, taking in your smell and then rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, smearing his scent in your hair.

“I can’t love you, everyone… Everyone would know,” You weren’t even struggling at this point. Your legs were practically too weak to hold yourself up.

“Not if they don’t know what I smell like. My fire burns it away, and now you’re going to be one of the UA students we captured. What’s your name, sweet cheeks?” His grin sent chills down your back.

“I-uh… (L/N) (F/N), and I can’t go anywhere with you, I have school,” He released your arms, grabbing your shoulder and not even forcing you to walk with him. You would have followed him, anyway.

“Don’t worry, a shower will wash you off if you need to go back,” He shrugged, and then his grip tightened, “But I don’t imagine you need to go back anytime soon.”

“Of course n-so, I have to! You’re… evil…” You could barely pull the words from your mouth. So this was what it felt like to truly submit to your other half.

“I’m yours, that’s what I am, so shut up and just let Compress bring you back with us, alright (L/N)?” 

It’s not like you could say no. He smelled too sweet, too rustic, too much like charcoal and cedar. His touch was too warm, too inviting, and you ended up in a back room of the hide out, never wanting to leave. Of course you had to, but a shower washed off the smell every time you saw him, right?

[ghost-train-hunters]

Nerves

After a close call on her first run in Seattle, Scratch has second thoughts about her new crew. She decides to take it up with the fixer who made the introductions…

An Orichalcum and Silicon short story by BrossUno

——

Scratch still had a headache as she rode the elevator to the 30th floor of a bustling skyscraper. She had woken up before the sun had made it over the horizon. It was miserably early and it made her more irritated than usual. Thankfully she didn’t have any jobs lined up right that moment. She found it hard to work when she was a hair trigger from snapping at someone. 

Her early morning excursion only left her just enough time to wash the stink of the Seattle underground out of her hair from last night’s run. She hastily put on the only business suit she owned and covered her face with a medical mask and sunglasses. The corp look didn’t help her mood at all. The skirt made it especially awkward to pull anything out of the smuggling compartment nestled in her left cyberleg. Unfortunately the contact she wanted to meet didn’t hang out in places where street clothes could get you past the front door. 

Routinely they were areas where the cops showed up in a few minutes and security could be trusted to do their job. Much as Scratch didn’t like it, the chaos of last night’s festivities gave her the motivation to power through.

The details of what happened sloshed around in her skull to the point where she couldn’t make much sense of it if she tried. It had been a few weeks of running her automotive garage for less savory customers looking to ditch junkers or disappear hot cars. Establishing herself in Seattle had been more challenging than originally anticipated. Chip truth, she was looking forward to making real money. Her long term plans demanded it. Now she regretted being so hasty. A crew of five needed a driver. 

The job itself called for the acquisition of a package from an Evo facility. She sure as hell couldn’t remember how it started out, but the ending had been a wreck from the minute they got their hands on the objective. The getaway took them on a grand tour of a drug den, subway tunnels with a ghost train, and a rooftop shootout with the Knight Errant and a fraggin’ Gargoyle. The order events felt scrambled in her mind but she knew things went downhill after a crash. A crash with a stolen truck.

The mere thought made Scratch take a detour to the nearest bathroom. She stood in front of the sink and made fists as she fought back tremors in her hands. After some cold water and some concentration she felt the sensation pass. She didn’t have time to look like she was fighting off dumpshock. She had a meeting to attend with the fixer who had set her up with the Evo job. Building security made sure she didn’t have the luxury of bringing her drones or much weaponry. The only form of defense she had on her was an Ingram Smartgun X she learned to hide in her leg for emergencies. She hadn’t had to make use of it yet, but last night had been full of unwelcome surprises.

The meet up was a fancy restaurant known as The Perennial. Scratch had never heard of it before but she didn’t run in these circles. The place mostly serviced wageslaves and anyone chained to the corporate life. Her contact had always found the nicest places for a conversation even in the shadiest parts of town. When she made it to the entrance the balding head waiter that greeted her had his nose turned up to the ceiling. He seemed to make note of her cyberleg but didn’t give her any trouble when she mentioned the party she belonged to.

“Party of Rosselott,” Scratch said.

“Right this way, madam.”

Scratch was always thankful for a mask. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and scoff as she followed the head waiter inside. He didn’t see any of that behind her sunglasses. The Perennial leaned on fake plants and flowers to imply a lush atmosphere. There were more people around than she expected for breakfast hours. A lot of drones in suits and oozing self-importance. One ork busied himself with AR screens. A table of four looked to be double tasking while eating and holding a business meeting at the same time. No one looked like trouble from first glance. She doubted any of them even noticed her enter the room. Sometimes she found it amazing how easy it was to disappear into a crowd of suits. That wasn’t an excuse to drop her guard though. She wasn’t expecting trouble but old memories from a life out east wouldn’t let her relax.

The head waiter brought her to a table in the corner up against a window overlooking downtown. It was a secluded space with fake hedges acting as a barrier between tables. They wouldn’t stop any bullets but it would be enough to keep prying eyes away for a little while. A single elf sat at the table. Scratch only knew her as Rosselott. 

The name didn’t really go with the face but that was the nature of the business. Rosselott had signs of old age and still looked impossibly good, which made Scratch feel she was probably ancient by elf standards. They never had a meeting where she wasn’t wearing a crisp business suit and nursing a cigarette or cigar. She had jet black hair and emerald eyes that felt armor piercing. The safe bet is she had been wrapped up in the corp life longer than Scratch had been alive. The way she supplemented her words with constant hand motions gave off the impression she had done boardroom meetings for a few decades at least.

Despite the clean exterior and expensive taste, word on the street had made it clear Rosselott was a fixer with connections. All the rumors pointed to the idea she liked to collect old things. And it went double for classic automobiles. Scratch felt it was a stroke of luck meeting someone like her over a single night of stealing cars for a bartender troll named Lefty. As a relative newcomer to Seattle she couldn’t afford to pass up the connections on offer. Or that’s how she felt at first. After last night she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Rosselott looked up and gave a thin smile through a trail of smoke escaping her cigarette. That was enough to satisfy the head waiter as he excused himself. Scratch took a seat at the table and made sure she could reach the thigh of her cyberleg where her Ingram was hidden. A matter of precaution.

“Ah, you made it. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble finding the place. They opened a few weeks ago. I hear they serve real eggs here.”

“I’d prefer if I didn’t have to dress up every time we have a conversation.” Scratch grumbled.

Rosselott gave a sardonic smile. “But I love when people are presentable. Besides, it’s not unusual for two strangers to talk business over breakfast in a place like this. Especially if you look the part.”

“You could have just called instead of having me come down here before the sun was up.”

The idea of talking over comms only got a finger wag from Rosselott. “You should know by now that I prefer a good face to face. And let us not forget, you were the one who wanted to meet right away.”

“I want another crew,” Scratch said without wasting time.

The request bounced off Rosselott without leaving a dent. She turned her attention to the menu. Scratch had been too focused to notice the tablet in front of her. Chip truth, she couldn’t afford most of the menu even if it sounded good. And she definitely didn’t want to be in Rosselott’s debt over some fancy dining. This meeting was strictly business.

“You don’t want to chat over a nice meal?” Rosselott asked.

Scratch leaned forward to emphasize the point. “I didn’t come here for a seven course meal. I need another crew.”

Rosselott put down the menu and folded her hands together. Her cigarette perched between her fingers.

“And what? You think I whisk them out of the air? Like magic? I already introduced you to a team. A rather sizable one. During your last job.”

“That job was a shitshow.”

“What a shame. At the very least I hear that things went well enough for you to get paid.”

“Not enough for the trouble.”

Rosselott shrugged.

“Perhaps you should brush up on your negotiating skills? I just make the introductions and arrange that things are… taken care of.”

“Then ‘introduce’ me to another crew.”

Scratch didn’t realize she had raised her voice until Rosselott lost her smile. Slowly she sat back in her chair and looked around. They were too secluded to attract attention even if someone had heard the commotion. Rosselott took a long drag on her cigarette and ejected the smoke out of her nose. The one other time Scratch had seen her do that, it didn’t mean good things. She tried not to look away with Rosselott’s eyes bearing down on her.

“If I recall correctly, and my memory is very good, the deal went like this: You were looking for a team who need a driver and a drone rigger. A way to establish yourself in Seattle, as you put it. I knew of a job someone needed taken care of that suit both our purposes. I came through for you, and you came through for me. A prime example of any good business relationship. You’re still alive, so I trust the team had some amount of skill?”

The crew wasn’t exactly what Scratch had in mind. Even from her time doing work for the mafia it was a motley crew to say the least. During the Evo run they had an ork the size of a fridge known as Merc who preferred to take his targets apart up close and personal. They had a cat burglar, Bast, who had embraced the namesake whole cloth with body mods and everything. Scratch had never seen someone move so fast. Even with a head start she passed her up on the stairs to the roof. They had two elves. Mantis, despite the glowing personality and the multicolored tattoo, had little trouble frying a Knights Errant with magic. The other elf went by Oz and preferred to do his work in the Matrix. Some ganger in the drug den had his magazine ejected from his gun in midfight. Deckers always made Scratch nervous.

The last runner caught her by surprise. The triggerman of their little group went by the name of Hollowpoint. She recognized him right away as the private detective named Seth Barber living in the cramped attic of her garage. The coat and the tired eyes were a dead giveaway. Naturally he wasn’t all that surprised to meet on a run. He had probably figured her out the second they met to talk terms for their current arrangement. But she didn’t figure he was such a dead eye when it came to shooting. 

Hollowpoint was an anomaly. Scratch figured if you were good enough to shoot the gun out of the hands of a surprised thug, you’d be good enough to shoot them in the head and be done with it. But she wasn’t going to scoff at someone who could clip a Gargoyle’s wing at night when it’s darting around in the air. Two crack shots meant it was more than dumb luck.

“Am I wrong?” Rosselott asked with a smarmy grin.

Scratch hesitated.

“I’m not working with them again.” She declared. “They’re… they’re bad luck.”

Rosselott laughed. Scratch had never seen her laugh before. It struck her motionless as she waited for her contact to regain her composure.

“Bad luck.” Rosselott repeated even more amused than before. “Oh whatever could have happened that night? What kind of problems did you run into, Miss Sheckler? Or maybe you were the problem? Maybe you hit a bump in the road somewhere? Left you shaken.”

Their corner of the restaurant felt hot. A sense of dread began to well up in Scratch’s stomach as her fledgling Seattle reputation felt at risk. She regretted coming. She regretted pushing her luck with Rosselott. The moment she came to town, she knew the only thing that would bring in work was an ironclad reputation. 

The last thing she needed was word getting out that she couldn’t drive for shit. It would be a nightmare if the only thing associated with her name was totalling a truck that should have danced on the tips of her fingers. But she couldn’t even remember what happened to defend herself. Was she jacked in? Did the dumpshock fry her memory on impact? It hadn’t been the first time she had been in a wreck that felt beyond her control. She made fists under the table as bad memories came to the surface.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you, but my interest is in people who can get things done. The other details are your concern. And if you can’t play nicely with others, then what good are you to anyone? Unless you fashion yourself as a one man army? Those are so rare these days.”

Scratch was thankful for the mask. She would have been glaring daggers at Rosselott and she knew that wasn’t the right move. Much as she didn’t like it in her current state of mind, she got the point. All she had to do is keep it professional. Get the job done. Somewhere in the wreck last night she had lost sight of it.

“Maybe I made a mistake recommending you. Maybe that stellar work that got my attention was beginner’s luck. What do you think?”

Scratch felt her confidence return. “It wasn’t luck. You know what I can do. The only one who brought you that car you love so much is sitting right across from you.”

Things got quiet at the table. Scratch tried to relax. Rosselott looked her over and finished off her cigarette.

“You know what I think?” Rosselott asked. “I think it’s just nerves. This was your first run after all. It’s a very different line of work compared to… what you’ve done in the past.”

“How do you know that?” Scratch crossed her arms.

“I don’t pick people off the street and hand them a gun. I like to do my homework.”

The smile on Rosselott’s face wasn’t very comforting but Scratch wasn’t surprised. Background checks sounded like the standard arsenal of someone who did time working for a corp. She just hoped it didn’t go too deep.

“I’m not some mobster on the corner, either. You have a lot of potential. But you also have to keep the long game in mind. Things work differently out here. I hope you understand that.”

Scratch took a deep breath. “Yeah. I understand.”

Rosselott clapped her hands. “Good. So if we’re finished here, I can’t introduce you to another team. Because I don’t have one for you. But the moment I hear something that needs your personal touch, we’ll talk.”

At the bare minimum Scratch was hoping for another job. The Evo run wasn’t the payday she was hoping for. Not to mention she didn’t have the luxury waiting around for something to happen. It might as well have been acid on her ears.

“How long will that be?” Scratch asked.

“Tisk tisk. So impatient.” The accompanying shrug made it clear Rosselott was indifferent to the issue. “You have all these new friends with problems of their own. I’m not the only one in town that needs a few things taken care of. Who knows? Maybe it will bring us new opportunities in the future? I’m sure you can occupy yourself until then.”

The end of their conversation came with a fake, business-like smile from Rosselott that must have disarmed thousands of arguments in the past. Scratch gave a nod and stood to leave. On the way out, she tried to ignore the smell of food coming from the kitchen. Real food. She had a long list of things to take care of before that ever made it onto her budget. At the very top she remembered the stolen van from last night. She had to get rid of it. Nothing could trace back to her. Things were safer that way. 

Upon reaching the street level she walked a few blocks to find her black Americar parked nearby. She didn’t want to pay for parking or mess with valets. When she got back to the garage it was still early in the morning. Among the tools and workbenches the stolen van awaited. A GMC Bulldog. Oz said he gave it a clean slate on the Matrix side, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Scratch traded out her business suit and medical mask for a jumpsuit and a welding mask. She started taking the van apart piece by piece. The others couldn’t drive for shit anyway so she didn’t leave it up for debate. Some of it would work well for spare parts. Especially since she had a Bulldog of her own. She had a feeling she’d be getting a lot of use out of it with their six person crew. The idea of playing taxi pissed her off so she hoped the others didn’t expect her to run them down to the store to pick up soymilk.

A couple of hours passed. The stolen bulldog had been reduced to a skeleton frame. That’s when Scratch finally heard knocking coming from the side entrance. Sometimes customers used that door when they didn’t want to be seen. She still had her Ingram hidden in her cyberleg so she cracked the door open. Seth Barber or Hollowpoint or whatever his name was stood outside. It was almost noon and he looked as tired as ever. They didn’t interact much as tenant and landlord. Seth Barber the private detective kept things guarded and didn’t bring people around. He had soyfood groceries delivered and sometimes smoked on the roof. 

Really Scratch couldn’t have asked for a more perfect arrangement. They stayed out of each other’s way and that worked just fine. But now things were different. Now she knew he was a crack shot and carried a small armory hidden under the unfashionable coat. She opened the door and they looked at each other for a brief moment.

“Hey.” Hollowpoint greeted.

Scratch said nothing. She waited for him to get on with it.

“Uh, there’s a special going on right now where if you refer someone to my food delivery app you get some credit on your account-”

This same man had sniped a Gargoyle out of the air at night with an assault rifle. It stuck in the back of her mind.

“-and I was thinking, maybe I could refer you and then we use the coupon to get something to eat, split the delivery charge?”

Scratch closed the door without a second thought. She had work to do.

[sinnabonka]

Ohmygod @starrynightdeancas that’s hilarious, and for each quote I know exactly who’s thought it is.

“You’ve had this song stuck in your head for days. It’s driving me nuts, too.”

Dean to Cas singing “Cherry pie” in his head all day long, four days in a row, regretting to ever introducing him to Warrant in the first place.

“Why are you making a grocery list in your head while we’re having sex?”

Because, Dean smirks, he’s a wise man, this way he can spend less time on actually doing groceries and be back to bunker much quicker for another round of doing Cas.

“Is that really what you think about my ass?”

Cas looks over his shoulder, trying to at least act annoyed, but the way Dean looks at him makes it merely impossible. The man’s almost drooling and it’s surprisingly endearing. He might consider not wearing his suit more often.

“Stop projecting so much belligerent boredom. I love this TV show.”

Cas finally introduces Dean to a TV show, not the other way around. Unfortunately, the show is “Ozark”.

“No, you didn’t forget to lock the door. You can quit fixating on it now.”

Cas to Dean during the hunt, midfight, on whether he locked the Impala. Priorities, obviously, they might get killed now, but the baby should be safe.

“Yes, that sounds much better in your head.”

Dirty talking? Clumsy flirting? Either of them, but I’m weak for Dean trying to flirt with someone else for a cause (for a case?) and it coming out as a cheesy line from “Days of our lives” or something, and Cas rolling his eyes so hard it actually hurts him a little. And he was supposed to be the socially awkward one.

“Is that really who you’re daydreaming about naked?”

Jealous Cas on the matter of Scarlet Johansson guesting in Dean’s mind once in a while.

“Less homicidal thoughts about your annoying coworker right now, please. I’m in a meeting over here.”

A message from Cas holding a meeting in Heaven with all the angels’ and archangels’ eyes locked on him, to Dean, almost throwing hands on idiotic hunter who was one step from getting them both killed in the vamp nest. It’s their date night tonight, he can fucking miss it die.

“It’s coffee you’re craving. Go get some. And bring me some. You made me want it, too.”

Cas to Dean lurking in the darkness of the kitchen at 2 am in search for anything to quench his other thirst.

“Thanks for the road rage thoughts. I’ll take the back roads home. See you in an hour.”

Either of them, but we’ve seen Dean snap on traffic on multiple occasions. And the though of Dean, even while he’s frustrated, taking a moment to let Cas know about the situation, owns a very special place in my heart.

“If you think ‘knit, knit, purl,’ one more time, I’ll stab you with those needles.”

I mean, should I even say anything about this one? Watching flowers, knitting things, angelic business.

I love reading fics about OTPs having mental bonds and things like that, but they’re always so profound. It’d be so much more entertaining if they still thought like normal people. Imagine this stuff:

“You’ve had that song stuck in your head for days. It’s driving me nuts, too.”

“Why are you making a grocery list in your head while we’re having sex?”

“Is that really what you think about my ass?”

“Stop projecting so much belligerent boredom. I love this TV show.”

“No, you didn’t forget to lock the door. You can quit fixating on it now.”

“Yes, that sounds much better in your head.”

“Is that really who you’re daydreaming about naked?”

“Less homicidal thoughts about your annoying coworker right now, please. I’m in a meeting over here.”

“It’s coffee you’re craving. Go get some. And bring me some. You made me want it, too.”

“Thanks for the road rage thoughts. I’ll take the back roads home. See you in an hour.”

“If you think ‘knit, knit, purl,’ one more time, I’ll stab you with those needles.”

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

If You Ever Want To Join Me - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Koriand’r, Damian Wayen Pairing: past/implied dickkory Summary: Nostalgia. Family. What-ifs. In another life, right? A/N: Inspired by/title from: ‘Dancing In The Dark’ by Imagine Dragons. This is such a dickkory song, like heck. If I had to chose Damian’s parents, I’d 400% choose Dick and Kory, whether they’re romantically involved or not. 

~~

Climbing into windows was a bad habit, one he couldn’t ever break, not even at Titans Tower.

He came as soon as he heard. As soon as Kory called. Big, bad Damian Wayne was sick. Had to be carried home from a mission like a wounded puppy, because he’d passed out midfight.

And he was probably overreacting. Lord knew his phone was full of messages from Jason, Tim and Steph all saying as much. That he’d gone into ‘dad mode’ and they were wondering if he was going to try to fight this flu bug the same way he’d fight Deathstroke.

Har har. They were all so hilarious.

Still – it was an accident, when he found himself climbing through the window, when he could have – and really should have – used the front door. Or at least rang and said he was there.

But it was too little too late, as he dropped to the floor of the living room. Damian was curled up on the sprawling sofa, a little, shivering, blanketed lump in the corner, head resting on a pile of pillows, his feet shoved against the side of the armrest. He wasn’t in uniform, as far as Dick could tell, but maybe a set of pajamas. A box of tissues sat on the cushion next to his face, a mug of steaming tea on the table in front of him.

Kory was standing over him, one hand carefully stroking his hair, the other reading a thermometer. She too was in civilian clothes. Leggings and a sweatshirt. Comfortable to relax in, but also appropriate, in case she had to jump up and run to the store for cough medicine at a moment’s notice.

She’d jumped when Dick landed, starbolts already lighting up her hands, as she instantly prepared to protect Damian and their home at all costs. He held his hands up in surrender immediately, smiling as realization dawned on her face.

“Oh!” She exclaimed. The buzzing electricity of her power died down, exposing quiet music from the stereo across the room playing. Kory’s choice, if he had to guess. Nostalgic pop songs didn’t seem to be Damian’s style. “Dick, I’m sorry, you didn’t have to come.” At this, Dick watched as Damian’s tired eyes cracked open. “I only called to let you know…”

“I know. But I wanted to come by anyway. Just to make sure he really is okay.” Dick chuckled. Damian rolled his eyes, curling tighter into his blanket.

“It really is just a cold.” Kory explained again, as Dick came forward. “He passed out on patrol from exhaustion, it turned out. Not directly due to his illness, but I’m sure his weakened immune system played a part.”

“Of course.” Dick snorted, sitting on the sofa next to Damian’s head. Damian still didn’t say anything. Seemed about to try to roll over, but was too tired, so settled for looking pointedly away from his brother. Dick just laughed, and ran his hand over Damian’s hair. “You aren’t a real Bat until you almost kill yourself for the cause, right? Sleep is for the weak, or whatever.”

Damian scoffed.

“Aw, let me play big brother, just this once.” Dick whined. Damian rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight it when Dick reached down to fix his blanket. Let his eyes droop closed when Dick went back to stroking his hair. “Get some sleep, Damian.”

Silence lingered after that, with both Dick and Kory watching as Damian did just that. They both stared as he settled deeper into the sofa cushions, pushed a little against his pillow mound, in a halfhearted attempt to get closer to Dick. Listened as his watery breathing slowly evened out in his slumber.

“…Have I mentioned how much I appreciate how much you love him?” Dick whispered with a wistful smile, gazing lovingly down at Damian’s face.

“You don’t need to.” Kory supplied.

“But I want to.” Dick glanced up at her. “Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome.” Kory sighed incredulously, though with an amused smile. She slowly perched herself on the sofa’s arms, peeking at Dick’s fingers as they carded through Damian’s hair.

“And, of course…I didn’t just come here to see Damian.” Dick hummed pleasantly. Kory looked up at his face. He was looking at her now. “I came to see you, too.”

“Oh?”

“I know. Shocking, right?” Dick laughed, though it was clearly self-depreciating. “But I did. I haven’t seen you in ages. Wanted to catch up.”

“That’s…kind of you.” Kory grinned. “I…suppose I feel a little guilty now, then.”

“Why?”

“Damian has offered to let me accompany me back to Gotham to see you. He knows how important we…” She hesitated, and Dick knew why. “…once were to each other. But I always turned him down.”

“I don’t blame you. Besides, I’ve been in and out of Gotham so much lately, I probably wouldn’t have been there anyway.” Dick soothed. “How’s leading the Titans going?”

“Good.” Kory nodded. “Though if you asked Damian, he’d say he was the leader. And we let him believe that to appease him.” She paused. “Though I have no doubt one day he will be the leader, and he’ll be wonderful at it. Just as you and Tim were.”

“Ha, don’t tell him that, he’ll throw a fit.” Dick shook his head. “…They anything like us back in the day?”

“Only in bad jokes.” Kory laughed. Then frowned almost immediately. “There seems to be much less…camaraderie among them. They’re much more serious. And I’m not just talking about Damian.”

“Well, they live in a much more serious world than we did, unfortunately.” Dick sighed, letting his hand still on the side of Damian’s head. “And less camaraderie? What do you mean, they’re not all dating each other like we were?”

Kory laughed again. “No, no, I mean…I mean they all keep their hearts so closed. They’re attempting to befriend each other, but are so scared of the outcomes.”

“Yeah, well. I guess I don’t blame them.” Dick looked down at Damian. His hand had crept out of his blanket now, and past his hill of pillows. It’d found a rare loose spot of Dick’s uniform, and was clinging to it, like a toddler would a favorite toy. “They’ve all been hurt pretty bad. It’s hard to open your heart back up after some of the things they’ve been through already.”

“I know.” Kory agreed. She reached down, and pulled Damian’s blanket tighter around him. “That’s why I stay – to show them that it is possible to love again. And there is no greater team to restart with, than this one right here.”

Dick glanced up at her, eyes near adoring, and she couldn’t keep the gaze. “Kory, have I ever mentioned how much none of us deserve you?”

“Oh, stop.” Kory laughed. Her smile remained, but morphed slightly. From humour into…almost motherly, as she carefully ran her hand across Damian’s shoulder.

“I’m serious. You’re way too good for any of us.” Dick pushed in jest. Kory just shook her head, focused on Damian for just a moment. And as she watched Damian, Dick watched her, but let his mind wander, just slightly. Tuned into the radio just as the DJ switched songs – and snorted. “Oh man, really? Of all the songs, they play this one?”

Kory blinked and looked up. “Hm?”

“This song. Our song, from back in the day.” Dick laughed, sitting back against the cushions. “We’d dance to it when I would sneak into your room. Listen to it while we fell asleep. Or when we would start to-”

“Richard!” Kory cut off sternly, though laughed as she did so. “Sleeping or not, there is a child in this room, and he does not need to hear about such things!”

“Oh, now you’re modest about it?” Dick laughed harder, relishing the slight blush in Kory’s cheeks. She waved him off, rolling her eyes in the process. Dick let his chuckles die down slightly, staring at her all the while. “…When was the last time you danced to it?”

Kory seemed to think, glancing over at the stereo, like it would create a hologram of days gone by. “…Not since you, I suppose.” She sighed, looking back. “You?”

“I can’t even remember, so probably not since then either.” Dick paused, looked down at Damian, then back up at Kory. At the beautiful picture she created, just sitting there, and – god, how much he missed those good old days. “…Want to dance to it now?”

She blinked again, and almost looked alarmed. “With you?”

“Well sure as hell not with Damian, he’s unconscious.” Dick joked.

And lucky for him, Kory laughed, slowly shifting to get to her feet. “…I’d like nothing more.”

Dick took her hand, holding it even as she stood, only releasing it to fall into position. Her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist. It was a closeness that they shouldn’t share, not after their history, and what they were supposed to be to each other now, but could never stay away from, no matter how hard they tried.

(And they, of course, admittedly, might not have tried as hard as they should have.)

But still, the emotions were immediate, as they fell into position, because it felt so natural. Because it felt so right. Because it was all either of them wanted, even though the universe always got in the way.

Kory could feel her heartbeat speeding up, could feel Dick’s under her fingers. And he was instantly looking at her with that way of his – like she was the whole world, and the only thing that mattered.

(But he looks at everyone like that, she had to remind herself. He looks at Bruce and Tim and Donna and Damian like that.)

But. Still.

She doesn’t know who made the first move, or what counted as it. He smiled, soft and warm and safe. She gently shifted her hands to carefully run her thumb along his throat. He swallowed, and his fingers flexed.

The song continued to play. Their song.

It was simultaneous. He pulled her forward just as she tugged at him. His arms enveloped her waist as she wrapped hers around his shoulders, leaning her head down to press her face along his neck.

And he hesitated here – barely, but enough for her to notice – before leaning down himself. Letting his breath wash across her check before he kissed it tenderly, and hid his face in the curls of her hair.

“I miss you, you know.” Dick whispered gently. “Every day.”

“And I miss you, as well.” Kory hummed in return, closing her eyes. She felt a lump in her own throat, and found herself digging her nails into Dick’s shoulders. “And I…still love you, too.”

Dick didn’t respond. She didn’t expect him to.

“I know I shouldn’t. I know we’re done.” She said instantly. She missed the faint shake of Dick’s head. “But I just. I never stopped loving you. I don’t know how.”

He squeezed her, hard, shifting to press another kiss against her face. Lingered there this time, as they continued to sway to the music.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured. “I’m so sorry, Richard.”

“Don’t be.” Then he chuckled, and leaned his forehead against her temple. “And don’t act like I don’t still love you too.”

And despite it all, she still smiled. She knew he probably didn’t mean romantically. In truth, maybe she didn’t either. Their love transcended that, transcended all labels humanity could come up with.

“It’s just…life, I guess.” Dick sighed, and he sounded sad. “Never the right moment, never the right place, blah blah blah…”

She laughed herself as she finally pulled back, just slightly. Just enough to look at him and his deep ocean eyes. “Another lifetime, perhaps.”

Dick grinned, bright and carefree, just like she liked it. “Wait for me there?”

And as the song began its final bars, Dick released his grip on her, only to hold her face, lean up and kiss her forehead, even as she proudly responded: “Always.”

The song ended, and while the request to dance to another tune was on Dick’s tongue, they were interrupted by none other than the reason they were brought together tonight. The one they both cared for, as if they were his father and mother.

(In that other life, perhaps.)

“You two are disgusting.”

They both blinked and looked over. Damian had apparently woken back up during their nostalgia. Was staring sleepily at them, with a grumpiness reserved only for toddlers.

“Aw,” Dick cooed, even as Kory laughed. They broke apart, and Kory watched as Dick leapt back to his brother’s side. Ran his fingers through his hair. “But you love us.”

“Hardly.” Damian whined, even as Dick plopped onto the floor next to him, grabbed that hot tea to offer him. Kory silently went around him, taking her perch behind Damian’s mountain of pillows, and throwing her arm across the back of the sofa. “You’re both nuisances, if nothing else.”

“Mhm. Sure.” Dick laughed, pressing a kiss to Damian’s nose after he refused his drink. “Go back to sleep, kiddo.”

Damian’s lips twisted, in an instant of worry, and perhaps a little childish fear. “…Are you two going to remain?”

“What, you think we’d just leave you here?” Dick grinned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, small one.” Kory added, gently rubbing Damian’s shoulder, even as Dick fixed his blanket. Damian instantly closed his eyes again, obviously once more feeling secure, though he’d never admit it. Kory hummed a laugh and glanced up. She and Dick’s eyes met, and instantly, they smiled. Secretly, almost knowingly, as Dick silently put his hand over the one Kory still had on Damian’s shoulder. “Now go back to sleep, Damian.”

Yeah. In another life. One worlds and universes and galaxies away.

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc II: Watt Outta Hell (3)

Chapter 3: I am Relieved of Unnecessary Appendages

I woke up lying on a table. An operating table. But before I could wonder if this was going to be a recurring thing, I realized that where my feet should have been, there were now a pair of raptor feet, complete with oversized sickle claws. The table was surrounded by A-Hole, F-Bomb, and several other Deinonychus I didn’t recognize on account of them all wearing surgery masks.

“Wakey, wakey, Turd.” Grumbled A-Hole. “We’ve finished your forkin’ enhancements, see?”

I stared down at my new feet, willing my new toe claw to move. It was surreal to see how it responded, part of me now.  “A-Hole, what did you do to me?”

F-Bomb sighed “What’s it forkin’ look like, smartasp? We infused you with deninoychus DNA. You’re one of forkin’ us now! Also I might have sawed off your old forkin’ feet and turned them inta forkin’ paperweights.” He pointed to a desk, where sure enough, my old feet were being used to hold down a bunch of files.

For a moment, I stood shocked, hardly believing what I was hearing, only for it to rapidly give way to complete and utter joy. I was part dinosaur.

I was part dinosaur.

I was part Dinosaaaauuurrrrr!!!!!

I couldn’t believe it. After five long Christmases of being let down, I’d finally achieved every 10 year old boy’s ultimate fantasy! If I’d know this, I’d have converted to Satanism years ago!

A-Hole and co. meanwhile, stared at me with every kind of confused expression known to man.

“Hey Boss,” whispered F-Bomb, loud enough for everyone to hear,  “Wouldn’t you think the forkin’ turd would be more forkin’ freaked out by this. I mean, we did just forkin’ rework his forkin’ genetic code. And turn his forkin’ feet inta paperweights.”

A-Hole gave F-Bomb a stare, but not just any stare. No, what we’re talking about would make even gorgons turn to stone! Or as the gang called it, the ‘Death Glare’.

“Aw, can it, F-Bomb. I don’t pay ya to be forkin’ smart!”

“Actually, Boss,” Schizzle interrupted “Ya don’t really pay us at all. It’s more like indentured servitude, see?”

“And I told you to stop usin’ all those ding-dong fancy words!”

The room erupted into argument, Deinonychus shrieking just like they did in the movies, pouncing on each other and trying to disembowel one another with their sickle-claws. And yours truly was getting the opportunity to live with these guys for possibly the next eternity!

But midfight, there was a loud shriek. Everyone stared at a door in the back as none other than Hoe swaggered into the room (on high heels, no less)!

A-Hole was indignant. “Hoe, I thought I told you to stay in the kitchen and cook the severed heads of my enemies!”

“Well I can’t exactly do that when you’re up here making a ruckus of everything. How exactly do you expect me to use the right amount of coriander if you keep breaking my concentration? “

For the first time, I saw A-Hole concede defeat. “Oh, all right. Guys, let’s make up.” Everyone proceeded to awkwardly pat each other on the back, whether or not their entrails were currently lying on the floor.

Hoe walked up to me and winked “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll get used it sooner or later.”

A-Hole swiped dust off his shoulders. “Now that that forkin’ scuffle is over, (Which I won, for the record) I guess it’s time you got introduce to your new family.” He pointed at his chest. “I’m A-Hole, but you’ll be callin’ me Boss, capische?”

I nodded.

“Excellent. Next is F-Bomb, he’s our torture specialist, and a dang good broccoli cook.” F-Bomb looked like he wanted to stab a fork through my eye.

“For the forkin’ record,” he screeched “I’m never gonna be your forkin’ friend. Ya fork!”

A-Hole continued going from person to person “this here’s Schizzle, our dumb muscle, you’ve already met Hoe, she’s our gardener and cook, and then there’s C-Word, D-Bag, B-yotch…”

My mind swam as I tried to keep track of them all. Try as I might, they all just blurred into a bunch of Deinonychus wearing pinstripe suits. My attention didn’t snap back until the cutest, fuzziest little creature I’ve ever seen wriggled out from between A-Hole’s legs.

“…and finally, Weena, my pet dik-dik.” I cringed as he started scratching the thing behind the ears, talking in that gushy voice my Mom always uses with my little brother. “Who’s been spreading diseases to cattle all around the world? You have, yes, you have!” Everyone else awwwed on cue, though this felt more out of obligation than respect. Except for me, because let me tell you, the moment I looked into Weena’s wide black eyes, I could tell this was a girl who’d been inside for too long to ever come out.

“Anyhow, since you’re part of my gang, now we need to give you your gang name, see? Whatever they called you on the upside, it don’t matter none down here. From now on, you’re Turd E. Mcturdpants. Jr. ” He grabbed one of my hands and nearly shook it off. “Congrats kid, I knew you could do it.” Everyone else clapped as I wondered what other crazy things I could get away with using Monopoly Money. If the money was worth as much as A-Hole said it was, I had to wonder why those games didn’t singlehandedly cause mass inflation. Everyone clapped, except for Schizzle.

“Now hold on, Boss, I don’t mean to intrude, but don’t we already have a Turd?”

A-Hole nodded “Turd made his choice when he tried to ditch us. Had to give him the usual. Now come on, my friend. Don’t make me change your name to smartask,”

“What’s the usual?” I asked.

“Oh, put him in a bag with rocks and dump him in the River Styx.”

“Oh.”

A-Hole slapped me on the back, in a way I think was supposed to be Fatherly but came off as him trying to break my spine. “See, little Turd? You’re gonna learn somethin’ new every day, guaranteed! Now here’s your honorary suit!” Someone tossed a pair of clothes right into my lap. When I picked them up, I saw it was just an old T-Shirt. I couldn’t read the words on it, but based on the pictures it seemed to be from a benefit concert to cure cooties in Uzbekistan.

“Why don’t I get a pinstripe suit like everyone else? Or pants?”

“’Cause you’re the new guy, see? Gotta work your way up to pinstripes, see? Pants are for jocks only, see? Speakin’ a’ workin’ your way up, F-Bomb, you train the kid.”

The smaller dinosaur looked like he would explode.

“Why do I have to forkin’-“

“You’re the shortest, and the rule around here is shorty always teaches the new guy.”

“But I’m naturally this forkin’ small! It’s forkin’ genetics!”

“They cry to the Lord, why dontcha?!”

This went back and forth for several minutes as the other Deinonychus left the room, rolling their eyes like they’d seen this a thousand times. In the end, it was F-Bomb who gave up.

“All forkin’ right, but only ‘cause you forkin’ tok me in. Just remember I’m not your forkin’ dik-dik!”

Weena, meanwhile, was occupied licking drywall in a corner of the room. And pooping.

The short dinosaur gestured a claw at me. “C’mon, ya forkin’ turd. It’s time ta be gangster.”

Now, I know this might sound sappy, but the moment we left that room, I could tell my new life as a gangster was about to begin.

“So where do I start?”

“Fer starters, were gonna get you some forkin’ firepower. There’s a store on 34th and Chestnut that sells some good tommy guns.”

“Wait. So I’m part dinosaur and I get an awesome gun!?” At this point, I really started to doubt I was in Hell.

F-Bomb glowered (though at this point he did it so often I couldn’t tell if he meant it or his face just normally looked that way). “Kid, if you keep forkin’ out over every single forkin’ thing, I swear I’m gonna cut all your forkin’ limbs off, and feed ‘em to the Cerberus!”

[cherryofdeath]

Dossier : The Warlord

Part IV of “Like bringing a knife to  a gunfight”, my first ME fanfic

After James had left her sitting in the Comm Room Mia let her feet dangle for a couple of minutes more. Leaning forward her whole body felt tired and old, she could barely keep her eyes open. The calm in the empty room was welcomed after the screams and pleas of the dying men back at the Purgatory.

 She had let EDI know to notify the Alliance, so many felons roaming free was not good. Maybe they would help clean it up. 

She sighed. Once more her thought ran back to Anderson and she wishes she could talk to him right now.

He was on the Citadel, just a call away, hell, she was already sitting in the right room for it. And still, she felt like she couldn't. It was in the middle of the night cycle on the Citadel and he needed his rest as much as she needed hers. And what could she have said anyway. 

'Help me make decisions'? No, that was her fight. She was responsible to punch the Collectors out of existence, by all means necessary. 

Even possibly killing or letting free more than 4.000 convicts.

Her fingers came up, massaging her temples in slow, round movements. It didn't help.

“Commander, you are experiencing high blood pressure and a high level of norepinephrine. Mirandas studies of your body show that it has decreased rapidly in other situations. You are stressed out.”

“No shit Sherlock!” Mia mumbled and hopped down from the table. “I'm fine” she says louder, even though she knows that EDI could hear even a whisper if she wanted to.

“Do you wish me to contact Doctor Chakwas?” The AI asked with a dash of concern in her voice, that didn't really came close to the human equivalent.

“I said I'm fine, EDI!” Shepard repeated, leaving the room, through the lab, to finally make her way to her room. She had been awake since forever, or so it felt. And the next Mission was already lined up. They would reach the Warlord in about three hours, not enough to lay down.

Reaching her cabin Shepard undressed, finally taking a hot shower and washing the blood and grime off her face. She used her moisturiser, faintly smelling like the ocean if the package was to be believed and let herself air dry while checking her massages in nothing more than a big towel.

She leant backwards, her hands loosely holding a water bottle, while her green eyes mustered the laptop in front of her. It was still daring, but she finally managed more control and was able to open up a message and answer it with her TCC. Cerberus had named it, without much fantasy, thought control chip and it basically was an omnitool in her head. 

Like an implant for a biotic. 

It served as her means to sabotage and overload, hack and basically use any type of electronic devise. She could access data flows and with the lens implant in her left eye, even see them. Right now James was sending a report to the Citadel, Gardner searched for a recipe for Shepards pie and Joker downloaded some weird music from earth.

It was so hard to see all that and don't loose focus on the reality around her, but it had helped her today as well. She had to close her eyes, too much going on midfight to concentrate otherwise, yet she was able to find some old schemes of the Purgatory from her days as an ark. 

Which made finding the control room so much easier. 

She had always been a weirdo, but not it was even worse. Her talent for tech had helped her career in the Alliance immensely. 

Now she wasn't reliant on a good omni tool with programs, she could code in her head. Or she would be able to someday, if she just trained enough. As far as she could believe Mirandas words, she was the only living human with a chip like that and no one could teach her.

Not that he believed her, she realised while getting dressed, they would never use her as a lab bunny. They probably tested the chip on other humans before inserting it in her and the thought made her stomach churn. And most likely they hadn't survived. Fuck Cerberus!

Paperwork done, showered and dressed she left her cabin, making a mental note to have the aquarium taken out next time she was at the citadel. It was a waste of space and resources. The last badge of fishes had died about two days ago and she wasn't willing to try again.

Arriving in the mess with Chambers datapad about the Warlord in hand she made herself a coffee.

Dr. Okeer

- Millennia of combat and strategic experience

- Rumored familiarity with Collector technology

A brilliant and brutal krogan warlord who fought in the Krogan Rebellions, Dr. Okeer has become obsessed with saving the krogan people from the genophage and is believed to have contacted the Collectors in an attempt to gain technology to that end. He is currently in a Blue Suns camp on Korlus, though the nature of his relationship with the mercenary group is unknown.

 It wasn't much information provided by the turdwaffle, Mias favourite slander to call the illusive man. This had to do though and she would once again walk into an unknown. At least she had backup and the way James had handled the prison ship seemed promising. 

She had been so relieved to find him actually following her orders instead of taking over and swaying her back to the Alliance. Not that she wouldn't go back in an instance, they just hadn't offered, had they?

In his function being the extended arm of Anderson he was capable and she was deciding to take him with her again. And Jack, who probably needed to blow some steam off and wouldn't mind stretching her legs for a while. 

Nipping her black, bitter coffee she walked over to the main battery room, where Garrus was busying himself with some calibrations. 

She knew he wouldn't pause that just to chitchat with her, instead they just nodded at each other and she sat down on a crate in the corner. Best place on the ship to hide for a while.

A slender talon shook her shoulder and Mia blinked irritated before forcing her eyes open. “You snore” Garrus said in his reassuring two-tone voice and snickered as Shepard stretched her arms. “I don't.” She lamented half heartedly and stood up. “How long was I out?”

“ETA on Korlus is twenty, so you might want to get ready” was his answer, while he already turned around again to complete his calculations. “Thanks for the shelter, Garrus. I own you.”

“Don't worry, Commander. If need be I'll sleep on your couch.”

She left him with a companionable huff and an amused head shake.

“EDI? Get Jack and James to meet me in the hangar in five.” Her commander voice was firm and she had enough time to freshen up and use the toilet before taking the elevator down.

She found them hunched over James weapons and couldn't shake the feeling, that they connected right away.

“Hey Shepard. Your jarhead says I can choose some weapons?” Jack asked with doubt in her voice, her melodic voice still not fitting the passive aggressive outfit.

“As long as you don't shoot me in the back, take whatever suits you. I'm not sure why, but our target is in the bloody middle of a blue suns camp. So I thought you'd like to join in.”

“Sure do. Never said no to a little meat feast.” Her laughter shook her upper body with joyful anticipation and she tried a few weapons before deciding on M-3 Predator and M-23 Katana. Shepard just nodded and began to step into her Inferno Armour.

James stood beside her and she had time to appreciate his bulky form getting dressed in his standard armour. With his built she would never have guessed he fitted into the plain Alliance stuff. The way he huffed and puffed it couldn't be comfortable, probably a case of being used feeling hampered. Too bad he wouldn't get a paycheck soon, being able to wear whatever he preferred as she really didn't care much. It hurt, but this wasn't an Alliance ship and she was set on enjoying the few perks it brought.

Silently waving him towards her, she fastened the clip again, checking all the others for him and tapping his shoulder. Without thinking much about it she turned around, obviously expecting him doing the same for her.

Her Cerberus armour was not unusual, that was the wrong word, but James found it unnecessary complicated. Biting his lip as his finger brushed over the black undersuit, baffled that she let him touch him. The orangish plates connected in weird places and he needed a moment to suss out all the fastener, strictly keeping his gloved fingers professional. When he was sure everything was correct he reached for her Shuriken and Carnifex.

“All Set, Commander.” His brown eyes lingered on her freckled face, even though they weren't prominent. He imagined her on Earth, betting his next poker wins that they would blossom in the sunlight back home, turning a darker red that would make her eyes stark in contrast. 

The harsh light in the hangar made the green look vibrant and clear, a deep forest green, like the trees in spring where he grew up. It was stupid, he noticed himself, he just couldn't will himself to look away.

Those eyes were made to be drowned in and no poster or vid could even roughly mirror the resolution in them. Her ginger eyelashes were the perfect frame for it and the bold line of tattooed eyeliner catching his attention for the first time. It was clever in a way, saving time, but still accentuating the golden specks in her iris.

He wasn't sure how long he stared, but Jacks comical harrumph made him flinch and he sharply turned around, getting his weapons checked for the umpteenth time.

She snorted a laugh when James turned slightly pink. Without a word he just left the women and walked over to the shuttle. 

He couldn't stand looking at her again, afraid to see disgust and annoyance in her eyes, hoping she wouldn't send him away. But the Commander said nothing till they landed planet side, leaving him alone with his embarrassment.

They jumped out of the shuttle and didn't look back when their pilot looked it and waited inside. Instead Shepard draw her trusted submachine gun and crouched behind a boulder.

“The dossier doesn't say if Okeer is here by choice. Assume hostiles.”

“Hell yeah” Jack laughed and enveloped herself in a blueish shimmer that was so common for biotics. She had refused to get an armour from the ones that Cerberus had offered, instead she wore the same clothing they had defrosted her in. 

Her upper body practically naked, James was wondering how good her shields really were. He could not imagine going without any at all!

A female voice, sounding robotic, boomed over the loudspeaker that were looming over the areal. 'There is only one measure of success: kill or be killed. Perfection is your goal'

“Reminds me of N7 training” Shepard chuckled and brought her team further along through the rubble and burning waste. They saw crashed ship, lying around in parts, mostly stripped of anything useful. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of death. Shepard could taste it, trying to breath through her mouth, it didn't help.

'Being hired is merely the beginning. You must earn your place in the army we are building' came another message meant to cheer the forces along.

“Sending orders through loudspeakers? Charming” groan James with distaste in his voice, focussing on the mission and not how he had made a fol of himself earlier. “Maybe you should start that on the Normandy” quipped Jack, as they rounded another corner. 

She nearly strolled along, not bothering to lurk around obstacles and facing whatever was behind it without preamble. As Shepard didn't commend her behaviour, James didn't either, even though it seemed pretty reckless.

“Observation post” he yelled, getting down, when they turned yet another corner and met resistance. Three Blue Suns stood on a small barricade in front of them, but didn't pose a real challenge for them. Shepard focussed her glance on one, shortly after his armour sizzled with electronic sparks and she shot him point blank in the head. 

While he showered the second one with a hail of bullets, Jack lurched forward, glowing bright blue and pulling the third in her direction with a forceful biotic attack. Helplessly floating in the air he was eliminated with a measured shot from her heavy pistol.

“Uuughn. That was fun.” Another quip from the tattooed woman. “I need more.”

“Pretty sure I can deliver” Shepard yelled, when they met more armoured mercenaries along the way through the camp. The zigzag way towards the main base drew the fighting out, always just a few enemies on one spot, leaving them enough time to reload and recharge. They made good progress and fell into an easy rhythm, in which Shepard took care of shields and freezing them in place, making it easy for James to drop the mercs one by one.

He saw the acknowledging smile on Shepards rosé lips through her helmet, happy she recognised the harmony in their actions. It was easy, fighting alongside her, astonishing how effortless they timed movement and powers between each other. 

Jack on the other hand was like a wildfire, emerging here and there between cover, taking down waves of enemies with a loud laughter and an evil grin. He didn't know why, but it reminded him of a young child going rampage with new toys on christmas morning, waking the whole house with joyous screeching.

They found a wounded merc behind yet another corner and Shepard stopped, regaining her breathing while watching him bleed. “Shit. Shit! It won't stop bleeding! I'm gonna … son of a bitch!” He mumbled, vainly trying to get up.

 “Doesn't look that bad” Jack ridiculed him. Her body was, as far as one could see it between her ink, littered with scars that seemed worse than what the merc had to endure.

“He doesn't need to know that” Shepard said to them and crossed her arm, watching him give up and stay on the muddy ground.

“I knew it wasn't berserkers. Not at range. You're mercs. Or Alliance … I'm not telling you anything!” He shoutwhispered, his voice strained with pain and James stepped closer, his weapon still drawn.

“I've got a nice application of medigel ready to go. But if you rather keep trying to walk it off...”

Impressed by her offer, James raised on eyebrow and could see Jack doing the same. The snarl in her face showed her distaste, James could only assume that it was a waste of medigel in her mind. 

But it worked, it didn't involve torture and yet again did the Commander get what she needed, influencing a blue sun merc within seconds. Did they teach that shit in Rio? He wondered, while listening to the interrogation.

They learned that 'the old krogan', probably Okeer, was 'cleaning house' and releasing tank bred Krogans right onto the wasteland in front of his door. They also learned about a leader called Jedore, who wanted him to make her an army, even though the Krogans didn't seem to function properly. It was a shitshow and all three of them felt it.

The mercs responder gave a crackling sound and they could hear a turian asking for some coordinates. 

“What's he talking about?” Shepard insisted with a stern expression, slowly running out of patience with this mission. The bleeding merc blabbered on but Shepard invaded his personal space with a snarl. “Your friends on the radio? I want them gone!”

James could see him swallow and then he nodded. “Um, patrol? The last group dispersed. Lost sight five minutes ago.” 

He had to repeat it with more force, but they believed him in the end and Shepard started again with questions. The only really interesting bit, for James anyway, was the fact that they weren't outfitted to withstand an commando. Which would this a whole lot easier.

“If you start limping now you might find a shady spot before you bleed out.” Shepard let him go and Jack laughed gleeful. 

“The scare was a nice touch” she praised the redhead and they all smirked. Scum like him didn't deserve better and the medigel was a lot more than he actually deserved. He would probably quit and hopefully turn to other forms of work, but deep down James wasn't too sure about it.

They continued, fighting small bands of mercs along the way and ended up in an impasse.

A fullgrown krogan in a red armour was standing motionless in the dirt, mumbling nonsense, Shepard put her weapon away, but motioned both Jack and James to watch her six. 

Almost strolling towards him, she pushed herself to full height and squared her shoulders. When he came closer she lifted her hands in an universal sign of 'not gonna hurt you' and the krogan seemed to relax.

“You … are different. You smell new. Seven night cycles and I have only felt the need to kill.” At this point James raised his weapon a little higher, aiming at it's head. “But you … you make me want to speak.”

Jack chuckled disbelieving. Something about Shepard made crazy Krogans behave like pet and she still couldn't figure out why she had rescued her from cryosleep. It didn't really looked like she was needed after all.

“Bred to kill. No. I kill because my blood and bone tell me to. But it's not why I was flushed from glass mother. Survival is what I hear in my head. Against the enemy that threatens all my kind. But I failed even before waking.” 

The krogan had a weird way of talking, but if he was to believed he was only a week old and had too many different feelings rushing in on him.

“That is what the voice in the water says. That is why I wait here.”

“You're supposed to be a part of a mercenary army. Do you remember Jedore?” Interested and actually taking her time, Mia dived into the conversation. Jack and James relaxed as it became clear that he wasn't going to attack them. He had seemed to take a fancy for Shepard and James was the last person to scold him for that.

“I know that name. It causes anger. But also laughter. It is not a name that will be sung when we march. I don;t know what that means, but I have heard it many times.”

“How can you speak if you're only seven days old?”

“There was a scratching sound in my head and it became the voice. It taught things I need to know. Walking, Talking, Hitting, Shooting. Then the voice said I wasn't perfect and the teachings stopped. Now I am here.”

James just had to chime in, taking a closer look to the impressive Tankbred. He towered over him and he had nearly forgotten the feeling. “It was taught enough to be tested. But for what?” He wondered, his voice calm and curious. The idea of breeding full grown Krogan and being able to imprint them was madness. But it would be even worse if it had worked.

“Okeer's voice? Did he speak to you while you where in the glass mother?” Stumbling over the word the Commander used his own words, showing more empathy now than towards the merc not even half an hour ago.

“I heard a voice. I called it father. It like that. But it was disappointed. I am not what it needs me to be.”

“How did you disappoint the voice?” James asked and the krogan turned towards him. “I don’t know. It was decided before I left glass mother. I was not perfect.”

“He doesn't look insane like the merc mentioned” Shepard thought out loud in her understanding <i>'CO voice'</i>  how he had named it and shook her head, making her ponytail loose a few strands. It was still very short and the hairband wouldn't hold it together. She stroked some hair away from her nose. “Can you show us to the lab? We need to speak to father.”

He accepted and all three of them gasped when the ripped a part of a metal wall open, throwing the panel away. His raw power was intimidating and James was happy that he decided to talk instead of attack them. 

He laughed when the tankkrogan explained that fleshy thinks were slow when things were in their way. It was true and he nearly took a liking to him. But the krogan insisted on staying back and Shepard had the decency to thank him, before they ventured on.

The way went downhill and they were met buy more resistance and this time serious one as well. IT wasn't too hard, till some of the tankbred Krogans stormed against them. Jack stayed closer, waiting till Mia had debuffed their shields and armour and attacked together with James. Her incinerate helped a good way, too, and they made good progress once again. The more Berserker they killed, the more showed up and Shepard deployed her Combat Drone for support. It was useful in drawing them out of cover, whenever they used cover at all and they often turned their backs toward the team, focussed on the drone alone. They were indeed not very clever and the groundteam made use of it.

They found a sniper rifle damage set that Shepard picked up for Garrus and she found time to rob the rooms clean of all medigel, credits and heatsinks. The longer James was around her, the more relaxed he felt. Which was weird as the fighting became more and more taxing and they had to outtrick the mercenaries and their rocket launchers. 

Her clean signals and sturdy commands helped him focus and lead him through the worst, it was really strange, but maybe he even felt taken care of!? The thought freaked him out, while dodging another Centurions rifle and thanking him with a load of grenades in return. How could he feel taken care of in a fight??

He pushed the thought aside as he registered Shepard being pinned behind a pillar, her shields gone as she lurked around it to aim. “I got you” he shoutwhispered, lurched forward and shot both troopers sneaking up from the side, while they concentrated on her. “Thanks” she said and he could hear her clearly over the speaker in her head. Maybe he felt taken care of, because he took care of her in return? Did it make sense?

“Nice to see the Alliance trained you right, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Told you, call me Vega.” Came his prompt answer as they finally had another room cleared and a short break. One single tear of sweat run down Shepards forehead and he had to instantly look away before he would repeat his foolish action from before. “Seems like all of them.”

“Pity” Jack said, reloading her weapon and stuffing her face with an energy bar. She didn't look tired, but they all knew that there could very well be another fight ahead. Jedore wouldn't let Okeer go, just because they'd asked nicely.

“How is everyone doing?” Shepard asked, getting a bottle of water from a pocket of her armour that James had totally missed. After two big gulps she gave him the bottle and he happily took two mouthful himself. The bottle wandered to Jack, who drank the rest and threw it careless on the ground. She burped and laughed, which seemed to be her answer at Shepards question. “I'm running out of grenades, Commander” was his and she nodded. “Keep them for now. We might need them later.” He nodded with her advice or command or whatever it was. It felt more like an advise.

A crackling in his helm let him know that she had switched to a private channel. Jack wasn't wearing an helmet anyway, so it didn't made sense. However, he wasn't complaining as her smooth voice sounded directly in his ear, whispering, till the hairs in his neck stood right up.

 “Holding up okay?” She asked while hacking into a wallsafe.

Aye Commander” was his first response, unsure why they needed the channel.

“You're not to bad, actually. But don't risk shit for me. I could have handled them myself.”

Ah, that was it. In her defence he had to admit that she sounded candid and wasn't talking down on him.

“I know, but how often do I get the chance to rescue the famous Commander Shepard?” He shot back with another flirt. She chuckled, transferring the money from the successful hack onto her omnitool.

“Next time polish your armour, Vega.” Still chuckling she ended the private conversation and motioned for them to continue their onslaught.

When they finally reached Okeer, the Krogan welcomed them with a deep rumble. It was hard understanding him, his voice sounded like he hadn't used it in a while.

“Here you are, I have watched your progress.”

James secured the room, but stood still as Okeer spoke again.

“It's about time. The batteries on these tanks will not wait while you play with these idiotic mercs.”

“You don't seem particular grateful that I'm here.” Shepard took off her helmet, swiping the sweat of the forehead and scanned the Krogan with a sarcastic glare.

“You may claim you are here to help. But the formerly deceased Shepard is not a sign of gentle change. Surprised? All krogan should know you. I'm sure Wrex has revisited you bombing Virmire. And the cure for the genophage!”

“I'm sure you're eager to retell the story” Shepard sighed, not honestly expected he would do exactly that.

“Such a tale!” Okeer began, drawing Jack and James in with his wide movements and happy snarls. “Saren, the Spectre traitor, threatens the return of the krogan horse by curing the genophage, undoing the gentle genocide of the Turians and Salarians But before Saren can deliver his endless troops, in ride Shepard, securing victory through nuclear fire. I like that part. It has weight.”

James eyes wandered towards her and he could see a single crease forming between her eyebrows as she unwillingly relived Virmire. He knew what had happened, by report and news anyway, he felt how she withdrew herself and fought against the memory. A slight shift in her weight, clenching her fist, drawing together her brows. Such small signs, but still there if one just looked carefully enough. And he loved looking at her.

“I didn't have a lot of room for finesse. I wished there had been a better solution. I would have taken it.” Her voice sounds off, still detached and tired, instead of calm and attentive.

“But I approve. Saren's pale horde were not true krogan. Number alone are nothing. The mistake of an outsider, one that these mercenaries have also made. I gave their leader my rejects for her army. But she grows impatient. It's time for you to take me out of here. Cerberus needs me. The Collectors attacks have increased. A human concern. My request has been made and accepted.”

He walked towards a tank, impossibly big and a young krogan inside it. Through the yellowish nutrient fluid James could see his not yet fully developed headplate. It was silver, like the armour that Okeer had prepared for him. Seeing a grown, naked Krogan wasn't something he would soon forget and by Jacks silence, she wouldn't either. He had heart about them having four testicles and he wasn't to keen to take a closer look. Shepard alone dared to step forward, nearly pressing her nose against the glass and watching the tankbreds bright blue eyes, while Okeer continued.

“I acquired the knowledge to create one pure soldier. With that, I will inflict upon the genophage the greatest insult an enemy can suffered. To be ignored. My rejects are strong and healthy. But useless to me. I needed perfection. And I made it. My work will purify the krogan.”

“What do you know about the Collectors?” James asked, as Shepard still watched the unmoving tankbreed and didn't seem to care if the conversation continued.

“They are strange. So isolated, yet very available when your sacrifice is big enough. I gave them many krogan. I may have information for you, but the tech was consumed in my prototype. After I determined how to use it without killing the subjects. Their deaths were unfortunate, but I only need one success to start the process.”

“I don't like you” Shepard said sharply, finally turning away from the tank. “I will not help you.”

“But you need me!” Okeer wondered and watched her green eyes. Even though their eyes were on the same height, the Warlord towered over her – and somehow she managed to not flinch as he showed his nose in her face. 

A stand off between Shepard and any other person was something to remember, but seeing her stare down an angry krogan. That was something for the history books! 

“No, I really don't” came her tired voice. James watched in awe as Okeer backed down and he felt a wave of relieve wash through his body. That could have ended very badly!

“Perhaps I can strike a deal to secure passage. But my prototype is not negotiable. It is the key to my legacy.”

Shepard opened her mouth to answer him, but was interrupted by a female, human voice over the comms. Jedore. They all recognised her from the imprint messages from the loudspeakers earlier. Mother. She threatened to flush the tank, gas everyone and start over.

Shepard sighed and put on her helmet even before Jedore had finished talking. Just seconds later a white steam was pressed into the room and Jack fiddled with her gasmask.

“Shepard!” Okeer yelled, forcing her eyes once again towards him. “You want information on the Collectors? Stop her! She'll kill him with the pull of a lever!”

Shepard nodded, draw her Shuriken and made sure it got a fresh heatsink before rushing towards the backdoor, trusting Jack and James to follow her into the next battle. “I think shes talked enough.” Jack shouted, rushing into the room without waiting on the soldiers to follow. James and Mia exchanged a glance, than a nod and ran for the first cover they could see.

Jedore released some berserker, show attacked the Normandy crew immediately and were harder to kill than the others outside. But the mech was the really annoying thing, his rockets hitting with impeccable timing and such a force, that Shepard had to run into a different cover as the metalcrate in front of her dented badly. Some reddish liquid spilled and made the floor slippery, she nearly lost her footing and the mech targeted her. “Shepard!” James yelled and saw how she let herself fall to avoid a rocket straight in her face. The explosion made the liquid burn and her heavy breathing sounded way too panicked for James's taste.

The wanted to ran towards her, but this timed it was him that was pinned and he could just stare and watch as she rolled away and ran towards the mech, her armour still burning from the liquid on top of it. She screamed loudly, as her left fist connected with the mechs face and it looked like she hit it with a sabotage. 

In the same second her drone showed up and started electrocuting the heavy machine. Its steps made the floor shook, but as Jack send a shockwave her way, James sprinted towards her as well. 

In the very last second Shepard jumped backwards and started shooting it till her SMG burned red from overheating.

James closed it and their armour touched at the shoulders, Shepard seeing him and release a long breath in her helmet. 

“Grenade” he shouted, both of them running towards the nearest cover, as the mech exploded and made it rains parts and shrapnel. Her armour had stopped burning. “Inferno, aye comandante?” He asked incredulous and together they killed the last berserkers.  

Jack had managed to go round Jedore, who was now stuck in between a maniac biotic and an angry Commander with her biggest fan at her heels. They all could see the panic rising in her dark eyes as she realised she wouldn't survive this. Overloading  her shields and sending the drone after her, all four of them attacked with all their might and nearly ignored EDIs voice chiming in.

“Shepard, the lab alarms coincided with a systems failure. The remaining lab systems are unprotected and I have gained limited access.” They all looked at each other and ran back. “According to lab scanners, the room is filled with toxins and Okeer's personal life signs are failing rapidly. I recommend haste.”

“We're hasting, EDI!” Shepard shouted, taking two stairs at once, her arms swinging wide.

But when they reached Okeer he was taking his lasts breaths. And he knew. Kneeling close to him, they all listened carefully.

“You gave me time, Shepard. If I knew why the Collectors wanted humans. I would tell you.”

He died on the spot and Shepard sighed, once again. It seemed she was doing it way too often and James searched his brain for an idea how to help her. If he just could, he would have hugged her or even said something stupid like 'It will be okay'. Instead he watched Jack walking closer to the tank, ignoring his feelings.

“Why would someone as fanatical sacrifice himself for a krogan?” Her melodic voice wondered.

“I can;t say what nonsense Okeer put in his head but he looks like a heavy hitter. A pure krogan can pack a hell of a punch.” Shepard walked closer, placing her gloved hand on top of his glass tank. “I'll take him!”  

[boyakishantriobeta]

*Eno opened her mouth to speak, then she screamed. Lightning struck each of them images and sounds flashed into their minds, a swaddled up Eno was being carried by Reno, they looked younger. She Reno clutched the tree, knife in hand as people shouted below. "FIND THE KIDS." shouted paladins, swords drawn as they looked through the forest. They found several hiding in bushes, cheering "ALLAH AKBAR!" Before slicing them up with their swords. Reno ran across the rooftops with the remaining children, then arrows flew into the trees. Children fell, then the earth split. "WHO HURT MY BLOOD?" Roared a voice from below. The Arabs raised swords, charging at the demoness. White flames erupted off her, she swept the rapier as demons behind her climbed trees grabbing the kids and hopping down the crevice. Meanwhile, Reno dropped from the tree, fighting knife against sword as soon as Eno was taken out of her hands. The young teen burst into white flames with a purple tint, stabbing soldiers down as She switched her sword into a scythe, swinging it around slicing units. Anti fire runes, shield runes, lots of very advanced forgotten spells and al manner of magics, shields were raised and cut down, before being activated. It was a blood bath, a village razed in the background with a demonic fox woman slicing holy paladins with ease. Then midfight, she ran. Picking up Reno with several other demons dragging the not Ash turned bodies of the other dead kids before the crevice filled itself. Then the shield collapsed, the chaotic scene fading to black.

Eno lay, tied to a stone altar. She looked maybe 5 now as a 20 something Reno lay nearby. Holy weapons plunged in her back with cultists using all manner of contraptions to hold her down as she tried to reach for a messily etched rune she drew with her own blood. The magical sigil glowed, as the remaining cultists muttered incantations. Then a portal opened, several cultists smiling and laughing as they were lifted by tentacles. Monsters raced out, replacing cultists as Reno slammed her glowing blue paw into the circle. She collapsed, bags practically replacing her eyes. A fox woman stood, immediately slicing at any and all monsters, throwing Reno onto the circle before the camera panned to Eno. She was screaming, seeming to glitch as an endless stream of energy poured out of her. The fox began cutting down men at lightspeed, before leaping up and slamming the eldritch being as it grew to human size. The being roared, shoved back into its portal as the fox woman caught Eno, pulling the weapons out as she muttered to her. "It'syourauntsorryfortheterriblecasebutthisisgonnahurt!" Before ripping the blade out her stomach, she screamed and the image changed again.

Eno looked 13, looking at the stars with other children, as a brown haired British guy pointed out things. The image flickered, Eno looked 15, charging into a compound flames striking down knights. The image flickered, showing more and more bloody situations, more and more fucked up. Then it all broke.

They stood in an empty white void, the noises of the memories echoed lightly here, Eno held her gut. "Not today, not today..." She muttered, she looked twenty, bodies of other demon hybrids littering the ground as something stood over her. It seemed to enjoy her pain, kicking her to the ground. She spilled her guts, literally. Guts, her heart falling out as she shakily got up. "Hehehehe, tough one eh? Couldn't get my followers to kill you then, I'll have to kill you now!" He summoned a sword, Eno pulled out a large feline canine out her mouth. Blood was spilling out of her, she should have been dead many times over. Then she appeared behind him. "Not today..." She muttered, managing to scribble the sigil before collapsing onto it. Purple flames erupted, a cat eared woman turned. She looked at the girl, pushing her over the sigil. She vanished, the red haired woman drew a sword. Cat ears and horns shown as her eyes and body glowed a colour higher than all beings. "You hurt my favourite niece." She said, bending her neck in a way it'd snap. She readied her sword, Eno vanished and the scene changed.

Eno lay on the bed, her form changing as advanced machinery, covered in runes and magical components hummed. A blonde woman with a halo scanned papers. "She's at least 80% of your power." She said to the red haired woman in the wheelchair. She seemed to think about this. "How stable is she?" The blond looked at her, "compared to you? A plank." The woman paled, looking at Eno as her body seemed to meld into a 5 year old, a 13 year old and a 21 year old. The blonde continued, holding her hand. A pair of bone rings were on each finger, "You lived the worst life ever. [Eno], lived through decadice that. Her sister..." The red haired woman waved her hand off. [In old French] "Lived through twice as much. By all accounts, we all should be dead. I know, [Ceta] [Censor] I know." The blond rested her head on the woman. "Yeah, but... If [Eno] Survives, who knows how long until she breaks. And if she does, well we don't know what happened the first time..." The woman grumbled multiple curses. "Yeah, I figured as much. Second most powerful in [Null] and [CENSOR]. Can't even say one person." She said bitterly, the blond sighed. Before looking at the camera. "I'd offer you an answer, but we don't know either. I'm so-" the image flickered, glitching before the pair returned to reality.

Meanwhile, in reality.

"you've been staring into blank space for the last second." Eno said, placing the last metal plate onto the giant Gundam she made.* "I got bored." *She answered as an explanation, walking through the portal.* "2 hours."

[eh, whatever] *A crackling purple portal pops out of a wall. Reno carries her sister in her arm like a bag as Eno continuously tries to wriggle out*

Honey and Jennifer jumped up when they saw someone outside of their house. Honey cocked her head and Jennifer rubbed her head with her free hand. Honey looked at Jennifer. "They're not a relative."

"But they're still in a wall. " Jennifer stated. "Honey, could you please? " Honey shrugged her shoulders, gave Jennifer the bag she was carrying, and walked over to them.

She was interested in the portal but she looked at two people. She grabbed the person and helped them out.