#oh and it actually dropped a helmet that's better than the one ive been using

[danielnelsen]

so i beat the greater mistral on my first try. it's level 17 and im level 18, so i didnt think i would be able to (solo+nightmare).. it took more than 30 minutes, which is waaaaay too long lmao

oh but you will notice i didnt use any potions. ive got such a good set of abilities and gear that i regen a lot of health and pretty much always have a barrier up

i think my previous run (all trials active for the whole game) really ruined the way i play. that made health potions useless, so i put a lot of work into figuring out the best setup to keep my health, so now i just forget i can actually heal lmao

[tempestaurora]

in another time, a gladiator stucky au by @tempestaurora​

image IDs under the cut

IMAGE ID:

FIRST IMAGE: 

i.

 Sunlight dappled across the stone floor, casting cool, dancing shadows in the summer heat. Bucky yawned and stretched, flexing his toes into the sunspots and smiling from the warmth. He watched the newest boy to the school, a scrawny thing called Steve, stand alone in the courtyard.

He tipped his head to the side and called out, “New boy! Over here!”

Steve had straw blonde hair and eyes like the Aegean Sea. He seemed hesitant for a moment before heading over. When he arrived, he looked at Bucky like he might bite, but after sitting, he simply melted into the sunspot Bucky had found.

“You’re pretty small,” Bucky observed. “Your family sell you?”

“What? No, they didn’t.” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed; he seemed insulted by the mere notion. “Your family sell you?”

Bucky shrugged. “Indentured, actually,” he replied. “But they’re practically the same thing. Why are you here, then? You have dreams of being a gladiator?”

Steve scoffed. “No. I don’t. But it was either this or live on the streets.” He paused, twisting his fingers into his tunic. “My mater died, recently. She was all I had.”

Bucky stilled. “Oh,” he said. “Perhaps she is better off now; perhaps she is in the Land of Joy.”

Steve nodded, barely. “There are few places better than the underworld, these days.”

SECOND IMAGE:

ii.

Steve may have been small, but he was fast. He twisted and turned in combat, picked up the skills with ease, and learnt to use his size to his advantage. If he got hit, he was down, so Steve learned to avoid the punches thrown his way.

They trained year-round, through summer heat and winter snow, and soon they grew. Everything Steve learned about being small and fast was discarded when he hit his growth spurt at fourteen, suddenly taller than half his class and finally able to make the attacks, not simply dodge them. He watched Bucky often; the two of them nigh inseparable since his arrival at the school. Bucky was not a golden student, but he was a golden boy; his eyes were like Jupiter’s sky and his hair grew thick and dark in a shaggy mess.

There were few things Steve found himself caring about more than the only boy in all of Italia who knew him, inside and out.

[Beneath is a photo of  the ruins of a temple of Saturn, backlit by the sun. It is ethereal and quiet-looking, with green fields interspersed with crumbled architecture.]

THIRD IMAGE: 

iii.

 They had climbed up onto the roof of the gymnasium to gaze at the sweep of stars painted high above their town.

“Do you think you’ll be up there one day?” Steve whispered in the dark.

“In the sky?”

“The stars,” Steve clarified. “All the great heroes are immortalised in the stars.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be a hero – there’s not a drop of godly blood in me. What about you?”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” Steve replied. “I just want to travel; to see all of Italia and beyond. Pompeii and Corinth – maybe even see the Oracle of Delphi, one day.”

Bucky smiled. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be fighting forever.”

“Come with me,” Steve said. “We could go anywhere. We could go everywhere.”

Bucky stared at Steve under the star-lit sky and smiled.

FOURTH IMAGE:

iv.

                                        When they were eighteen, they moved to Rome. The Ludus Magnus gladiator school sat in spitting distance of the coliseum, and this was where they trained. They had long been learning their preferred style of combat – Steve, after shooting up and broadening, fought as a Thracian, with his broad-rimmed helmet, small rounded shield and curved sword. His only armour consisted of thigh-length grieves, while Bucky was granted a chest plate and greaves as a Dimachaerus, dual-wielding two swords.

They fought regularly in practice, but never in the ring drawn into the sand in front of an audience. There was a palpable fear Steve felt at making Bucky bleed. Some nights, he whispered prayers to whatever god might deign to listen – perhaps Mars, for war, or Venus, for love – and pleaded with them to never pit him against Bucky.

[On the right hand side is a close-up of a temple’s columns, with sunlight poking between.]

FIFTH IMAGE: 

v.

 Bucky knew Steve was watching from beyond the Gate of Life as he stepped into the ring for his first gladiatorial combat in the arena. Steve had already won his earlier that day in front of roaring crowds and amused royalty in the Emperor’s box.

Now it was Bucky’s turn, and he twisted his swords in his fingers, facing down his opponent across the ring. Bucky knew their job was to fight – fight and possibly even die – but he also knew his job was to give them all a show.

And Bucky was nothing if not a showman.

In the end, blood stained the sand a vivid red, but Bucky strode towards the Gate of Life, triumphant.

SIXTH IMAGE:

vi.

 There were always popular gladiators, and Steve didn’t know how to react, finding himself to be one of them. Women lined up outside the bathhouses he frequented; shared rumours that dipping their hairpins in his blood might bring them love, that his sweat would work as an aphrodisiac.

“I can see their point,” Bucky whispered one night, his mouth ravenous against Steve’s after a long day of training. Their bodies were always animalistic in these moments, whilst the school was empty and the others were out drinking the night away. They took everything they could get from each other; swallowed each sensation whole.

Steve never wanted these moments to end. He would throw all the glory and money away for more time with Bucky, for more nights like this.

SEVENTH IMAGE: 

vii.

 After amphitheatre fights, admirers and buyers alike would flock to the school where the gladiators lounged on cushions and benches, drinking wine and eating expensive foods. These were the nights Bucky enjoyed the most. No one was allowed to approach unless beckoned by a gladiator, and Bucky would often spend time toying with the admirers, allowing one or two over before sending them away again. Eventually, after the show, he’d slip away into the sleeping quarters or empty storage cupboard, and find Steve waiting there for him.

There was a miles-long list of things Bucky loved about Steve’s body, but number one on the list was how it fit against his own in the dark.

[Cut into the left side is a photo of the Coliseum in Rome.]

EIGHTH IMAGE:

viii.

 A few days before the festival, culminating in three days of games at the coliseum, their master told Steve and Bucky that they were scheduled to fight.

“It’ll be fine,” they told each other in the dark. “The fights rarely end in death. We’re not fighting to kill. We’re fighting to entertain.”

“We’re performers,” Bucky would say. “We’re just there to give them a good time.”

“Don’t act like no one ever dies,” Steve would reply, each and every time. “Don’t act like we haven’t killed our opponents before.” Sometimes, friends would enter the ring with them and never leave it. Sometimes, the audience called for their deaths.

It was blood lust, through and through. The men caught hold of that first splash of red and couldn’t let it go; they had to see more, they had to see death in all its forms. The gladiator could’ve fought bravely, wonderfully, and they might still end up slumped in the sand afterwards.

“Soon,” they would say, “we’ll retire and leave this for good. Soon, we’ll travel the world, like we always planned.” They would whisper lies and truths to each other, desperately tangling them together until they couldn’t tell them apart.

NINTH IMAGE:

ix.

 On the day of the fight, Steve stepped into the ring opposite Bucky and breathed in the cheering crowd; the hot, midday sun. They had kissed in the shadow of the underground corridors, and now faced each other, weapons raised, poised for battle.

It was bloody from the get-go; they were entertainers after all, and the audience was only entertained when they saw the streak of blood dampening the sand. They twisted and turned as if they were dancing, as if there was music playing and this was them, centre stage, having the time of their lives rather than anxiously hoping their blades wouldn’t cut too deep, that the bruises would soon heal.

And then Steve’s sword slashed too harshly at Bucky’s side and he faltered, hissing.

“Bucky—” Steve said, not moving in on the advantage, not moving at all.

Bucky straightened, removing his hand from his side, darkly red. “What are you doing?” Bucky asked, before raising his swords once more. “Fight me.”

“Bucky—”

“Fight me,” Bucky hissed, slamming his swords forward. Steve barely had time to raise his shield. He couldn’t stop staring at the thick blood leaking from Bucky’s ribs.

“No—”

“Steve—”

“No.”

Steve stepped back, feet almost at the ring’s edge. He dropped his shield, his sword to the sand. He held his arms out, palms towards Bucky, and said, “I won’t fight you, Bucky. Not ever again.”

So Bucky took the win, and the crowds jeered at Steve, and the Emperor held his thumb outstretched, unamused by the champion’s surrender.

“You won’t fight me,” Bucky spat, “but you’ll make me kill you instead?”

[Cut into the right hand side is an edited shot of the movie Gladiator; two gladiators rush towards each other to battle, with the crowds filling the stands. Much of the image is in shadow, with streaks of sunlight pouring down from the left side.]

TENTH IMAGE:

x.

 The sand was hot beneath Bucky’s feet; no lazy afternoon shadows in the centre of the amphitheatre. In front of him, Steve knelt facing away, his head tipped low to bare the spot at the top of his spine, all smooth skin tanned and unblemished.

The crowds roared around them and Bucky lifted his sword, pressing the tip at the base of Steve’s neck.

Steve flinched and said, just barely loud enough for Bucky to hear: “Perhaps I’ll go to Elysium… I hear there are few places better to be than the underworld, these days.”

But Bucky knew Steve would not go to Elysium. He was a warrior, but he was not dying righteously, not for fighting well. He was dying for surrendering, for caring about Bucky more than himself.

And Bucky—well he cared for Steve more than himself, too. They were the same that way. They always had been.

So Bucky stepped back, lowering his sword in his hand. He looked up to the Emperor, shadowed in his private box, and shook his head.  

“I won’t kill you, Steve,” he said, and Steve looked around in surprise, like it was really all that out of character. He held out a hand and pulled Steve to his feet, ignoring the roaring of the crowd, the anger that came from mercy.

“They’ll come for us,” Steve said, eyes wary. “They’ll kill us both.”

With one hand, Bucky cupped Steve’s cheek, thumb against his cheekbone, and with the other, he lifted the sword and twisted it. “Let them try,” he said. “But we have plans to travel the world. We’ve got no time for dying, Steve.”

And in the summer heat, they ran for the Gate of Life.

ELEVENTH IMAGE:

[A close up of two marble statues kissing.]

[END OF IMAGE ID]

[miyanom]

THE FIVE TIMES HE DIDN’T

MASTERLIST | KEITH KOGANE X ALTEAN!READER

WARNINGS: weapons, fighting, mentions of war

NOTES: If anyone wants, I actually have ideas for a sequel (and a spin off where it’s the times Y/N didn’t) to this! So if you enjoy this, please let me know if you’d like them too!!

i.

Keith trails slightly behind Y/N as her eyes flicker from store to store. The only reason he had agreed to stick with her was so nothing would happen to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t know Y/N could protect herself — no, he knew she was more than capable of taking down an enemy combatant. All of that training her and Allura had gone through as Altean children was for a reason — but he didn’t want to risk her getting hurt.

And maybe part of him wanted to spend time with her. Even if that meant staying about 10 feet behind her at all times.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, a frown tugging at her lips when she noticed Keith was trapped in his thoughts.

“Keith,” she called out, coming to a stop.

Keith, still trapped in thought, only snapped out when he felt his chest colliding against her back. “I’m s-”

“Don’t be,” Y/N laughed.

A beautiful sound, if you asked Keith.

“Come on, walk alongside me, Keith,” she pleaded. “We are friends, are we not? Friends walk with each other, not behind one another.”

Keith fell into line as they continued through the mall, still on the hunt for the lenses that Coran needed for the teludav. “What’s on your mind?” She questioned.

“Nothing,” he quickly shook his head.

“Oh…” The two fell into an almost comfortable silence. If Shiro were here right now, he’d be giving Keith looks, trying to get him to finally say something. To confess the feelings that felt like they were eating him up. But Keith couldn’t. He couldn’t risk that.

Maybe before, before they had met Ulaz. But now? Now it wasn’t a good time.

Keith looked down as his hand brushed against her own, he was half tempted to hold hers. “Y/N-” He started speaking before he even knew what he was doing.

Though at the same time he spoke, Y/N was pulling away and stopping in front of a shop window, a grin forming on her features as she stared at the shiny jewelry inside.

What was he even thinking? Did he seriously believe now would be a good time to tell her how he felt? Y/N would end up hating him, and then not only would it ruin their friendship, but it’d mess with the team’s dynamic too.

How were they supposed to work together in the Red Lion if she hated him?

ii.

“Keith.”

His head shot up at the sound of his name, but when he realised it was Y/N - standing there in her armour, a confused expression on her face - he lowered his head in shame.

“You’re-”

“Galra… yeah,” Keith breathed out.

Y/N blinked, before stepping closer as she moved to sit beside him. “I was going to say you’re going to be okay. This doesn’t change anything, Keith.”

“It changes everything!” Keith shouted as he stood up, moving away from Y/N. “You should hate me, Y/N.”

“Well, I don’t,” Y/N shook her head. “I could never.”

“But Allura… and Altea-

“Allura will come to understand,” Y/N stood up. “You may have Galra blood, but you are not them. You aren’t part of the Empire that did that to my home. You’re Keith, from Earth. Paladin of the Red Lion, and my friend.”

She took his hand in her own, causing Keith’s expression to soften slightly. “I will never hate you, Keith. Especially not because of something so out of your control.”

At that moment, he wants to tell her. He wants to spill everything he’s been feeling. Explain those butterflies in his stomach that appear when she smiles at him, or the nights he can’t sleep because he’s thinking of her.

But he doesn’t. And when Y/N finally notices that he won’t say anything, she sighs and drops his hand. “I hope you’ll see what I see one day, Keith,” she whispered, before turning to leave the room.

Keith just watched as she felt, slipping from his grasp again.

Maybe it’s for the better. Everybody leaves in the end, maybe it was a good thing she was doing it now rather than later. After all, her words could’ve just been a lie in an attempt to comfort him.

What if she hated him for being Galra?

iii.

Tomorrow was the day.

They were finally going to take down Zarkon. And while Keith knew he should probably be getting rest, preparing for the battle. He was instead walking through the Olkarion castle, half hoping Y/N would be awake and willing to talk too.

Keith stepped out onto a balcony, his eyes falling onto Y/N, whose arms were crossed as she stared into the distance.

“Hey,” he spoke softly.

It took Y/N a moment before she turned to see who was there, and suddenly a smile began to tug at her lips. “Hi.”

“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered between the sky and Keith. “Well, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” She shot back.

Keith couldn’t help but smile as he walked over to stand beside her. “Good one, Y/N.”

As she faced the city below them once more, Keith found himself staring at her. “I couldn’t sleep,” she answered quietly. “The Empire… We finally have a chance to stop Zarkon, and then you and the other Paladins will be free to go home. I just…”

“What?” Keith’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Well, I’m happy for you all. Truly,” Y/N sighed. “But Altea won’t come back just from defeating the enemy. And I know I have Coran and Allura, and the Castle ship but- but it’s not home.”

“I know it’s not the same but you can… you can always come back to Earth. With me,” Keith muttered.

He could’ve sworn that Y/N’s face softened as she blinked away the tears that had been forming in her eyes. “I’d love that, Keith,” she smiled sadly. “But do you really think your people will accept us?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. He really didn’t think about that. Or about how they’d see him if Earth were ever affected by the Galra. “But you’ll always have a home with me, Y/N. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, glancing at him as a blush crept onto her cheeks.

The two stared at each other for a moment, and just as Keith was about to lean in, the door behind them opened. “I guess I’m not the only one who can’t sleep,” Hunk realised, shuffling over to stand with his friends.

Y/N quickly averted her gaze, turning to face Hunk. “Are you alright?”

Keith frowned, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he left the balcony.

Why did he even try?

iv.

“You look like you could use some rest,” Y/N called out. When Keith lowered his sword, he could see her leaning against the doorway, still dressed in the gown she had worn for their meeting with the ambassadors of the planets they had just rescued.

“Seriously, Keith, have you gotten any sleep since…” She trailed off when Keith narrowed his eyes in her direction. “I’m sorry. I just worry.”

“We aren’t replacing Shiro,” he told her angrily. “I don’t care if it means losing Voltron. We aren’t replacing him.”

Y/N looked taken aback, as if she were surprised that Keith would speak to her like that. Honestly? It surprised Keith too.

Y/N had been the one to help him search for Shiro ever since the battle, she was one of the only people who hadn’t given up. And this was how he was treating her?”

“Sorry,” he whispered, averting his gaze.

“Keith, I know how you feel,” Y/N sighed, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. He hated to admit it, but her touch felt comforting. “When I met you all and found out what happened to the old Paladins, I didn’t want any of you anywhere near the lions. I didn’t want to replace the Paladins of old…”

He glanced at her, wondering where she was taking this. “But we must do what’s best for the universe. That is our role as Paladins. Even after such a great loss, we must continue fighting. And while I didn’t know Shiro for long, I know that’s what he would want us to do.”

Part of him wanted to shout, to tell her that she didn’t know anything about Shiro. But when he looked into her eyes, he could see the concern, he could see that she cared - almost just as much as he did.

“He’s not gone,” Keith whispered. “He… he can’t be.”

Y/N frowned, but pulled Keith into her embrace nonetheless. He just stood there for a moment, before dropping his head to rest his forehead against her shoulder. “I’m sure Shiro is still out there, and we will find him. I know it,” Y/N spoke softly. “But right now, we need a Paladin for the Black Lion. The Empire won’t wait for us to find Shiro.”

As he pulled away, Y/N stared at him, a sad smile on her face.

Realising just how close they were, a blush crept onto Keith’s face. But instead of moving back, he just stayed there. However, when she began to lean in, he quickly stepped away. “I’m sorry for shouting at you,” he sighed, looking away.

“Oh… You don’t have to be,” she told him. “He’s like a brother to you. Just like Allura and I. If she disappeared like Shiro… I’d be acting the exact same right now.”

They both went silent for a minute, before Keith suddenly headed for the door. “Where are you-?”

Y/N’s voice was drowned out as the door to the training room shut behind him, but instead of waiting for her, he just continued toward the Black Lion’s hangar.

He didn’t mean to brush her off like that, but maybe it was better this way.

v.

“Keith, where were you?”

He pulled the hood of the Blades uniform off his head as he turned to look at Y/N. He could practically feel the anger radiating off her as she held tightly onto the helmet of her own paladin armour.

They had been drifting since the lion switch, now that they didn’t share a lion. And then even more when Keith took a step back to work with the Blade of Marmora. He was sure she hadn’t even noticed - not when she had been so busy working with Voltron or bonding with Lance, who now shared the Red Lion with her.

“I’m-”

“We needed your help back there,” Y/N pointed out. “Keith, Voltron needs a leader. We cannot-”

“Can you stop?!”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, before they shifted into a glare. “Excuse me?”

Keith, who usually would have been surprised at the tone in his voice, simply met her eyes with a glare of his own. “It seems like all you want to do is snap at me recently!”

“Maybe you deserve it! You’re our leader, the Paladin of the Black Lion. And yet, you’re never here. You continue to run off with the Blade of Marmora, like their errand boy… The Blade doesn't need you as much as we do.”

Y/N had a good point, he was supposed to be their leader and he wasn’t around to actually lead. But he had let Lance get in his head, how there were too many Paladins and not enough Lions. And now that Shiro had reconnected with the Black Lion, well… Keith didn’t have to pretend to be the leader he wasn’t meant to be.

“I need to be with the Blade of Marmora right now, they-”

“You need to be with us, Keith,” Y/N told him. For a moment, he let himself believe that she was saying that because she needed him. “The universe needs Voltron.”

But he let himself believe in a lie. The truth was, Y/N was already leaving just like everybody else in his life. And it’d just be easier to push her further away.

“I have to go.” He pushed past her, about to leave the hallway, when he heard Y/N scoff from behind him.

“Fine. Run, like you always do. I guess we just don’t matter to you after all.”

Keith looked over his shoulder, opening his mouth to say something. But he could see Y/N’s figure already retreating down the hall.

He lurked around in the castle for a little while before finally heading to the bridge, where the entire team was waiting for an explanation. The words seemed to come better to him there than they did when he was in the hallway with Y/N just an hour ago.

And he fessed up, about how him being absent allowed Shiro to reconnect with the Black Lion, and how he had made the decision to join one of the Blades missions to infiltrate the Galra’s quintessence supply line.

“It could take weeks, maybe months to pull off, but… if there is a chance, we have- I have to take it,” he spoke. “I need to be on that mission.”

He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, so he continued. “Shiro, you are the rightful leader of this team,” he stated. “And you proved it today by reconnecting with the Black Lion. It was always meant to be yours.”

“Keith…” Shiro stepped forward, gently placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If this is what you feel is right, then we won’t try to stop you. But just know that we’re here for you whenever you need us.”

“I know you are,” Keith smiled. “And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Shiro pulled him into a hug, one that the entire team joined in on. Except Y/N, who started heading for the door, refusing to even look in his direction.

“Y/N-”

“She will come around,” Allura sighed, watching her friend leave the room as an awkward silence began to loom over them.

Keith frowned, staring at the closed door. He needed to leave soon, there wasn’t enough time for him to run after her right now, no matter how much he wanted to. So with a sigh, he turned back to the team, forcing a smile onto his face as he did so.

He had hoped to leave without so many regrets weighing him down. That had been a foolish dream clearly.

taglist (join here)

@filipinhce

[theloneliestshipper]

What about a Soulmate or red string of fate AU for Leia and Boba?

I actually had multiple requests for this one. I came up with a premise years ago for this and yet writing it out only made me realize how hard it would be to get these two stubborn, independent people to buy into it. I dragged them as far as I could, I swear. 

AO3 Link

“It’s Mandalorian.” Her father’s voice was hushed. He sounded worried. “I recognize the lettering.”

“Could we have it translated?”

Leia rubbed her leg just above her knee as she listened to her parents whispering outside her door. The darker patch of skin had always been there. Her mother said she always had. It was only after her tenth birthday that the color began to deepen and the foreign letters began to take shape.

“Yes, but should we?” Her father continued. “This whole business of soulmates, it’s a lot of pressure. Maybe it’s best if she doesn’t know.”

Her mother sounded uncertain. “There’s a lot she doesn’t know, Bail. What if this is one thing too many?”

---

“You have a soulmark?” Sabine Wren’s eyes went wide.

“You don’t think it’s crazy?”

“My parents have them...so, no. My dad’s says, “I’m looking” and my mom’s says, “look at this beautiful sight!” My dad was painting a picture of a lake when they met, and he wanted her to look at the view and she wanted to look at him.” Sabine shrugged. “And those were the first words they said to one another. My mom says she was just grateful that hers was in Mando’a.”

Leia fidgeted, keeping an eye out for anyone passing in the hall of the rebel base. “Mine is in Mando’a too.”

“It is? That means it’s your soulmate’s first language!”

“I looked it up, but the translation wasn’t exact. It’s just one word. Slana’pir.”

“Huh.” Sabine considered that for a few seconds. “That can mean ‘get lost’ or ‘go away’ depending on the context. It’s kind of a funny thing for someone to say as their first words to you. The first letter, does it angle at the bottom? This way?” She illustrated with her hand.

Leia had to think about it. “No. The other way.”

“That’s interesting. It means they’re probably Concordian, from Concordia or Concord Dawn.” She grinned. “A hick Mandalorian, you know? In some places they use slana’pir literally, from a Concordian it’s more likely to be a threat.”

“Great,” Leia replied dryly. “I’ll just keep my eyes peeled for a Mandalorian who instantly threatens me. Are your parents...it’s real for them?”

“Oh yeah. They’re really happy together. My dad always says he doesn’t mind dying at the same time as my mom, because he can’t imagine living without her.”

“Wait. You die if your soulmate does?”

“That’s part of the deal. Once you meet and exchange words, you literally can’t live without one another.”

“But what if it’s someone you pass on the street and never speak to?”

“Then I guess you do what you want like everyone else.”

---

Leia couldn’t understand the grunts of the Gamorrean guards who dragged her through the door. They tossed her in the direction of the bed and left, locking the door behind them. The room was simple, the only furniture was a bed.

Jabba had made the terms of her captivity clear with the scraps of metal and cloth she was forced to wear. She was a trophy for the Hutt to display. So why lock her in here?

She paced for a while. When she got tired of pacing she sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on the door. That quickly became boring and so she laid down, curled up on her side. At some point she fell asleep.

When she woke up there were voices outside the door. Bib Fortuna, the Twi’lek majordomo, and a second voice.

Boba Fett.

Leia bolted upright. Of course. Jabba was passing her on as a bonus to his pet hunter. Her hands curled into fists as the door opened and the Mandalorian bounty hunter strode in.

“Get out.”

She resisted the urge to cover her soulmark with her hand. “Congratulations,” she snarled instead. “You can read.”

He didn’t respond. He stood frozen in front of the door until it finally occurred to Leia that something had happened. “The fuck,” he whispered, the words barely audible through his helmet. Suddenly he was moving towards her, and before she could scramble away he was on his knees at her feet, his hand on her leg. His gloved fingers scrubbed across her soulmark as if he was trying to rub it off.

“Ow!” She pulled her leg up under her, shoving him away. “Get off me!”

He straightened, started to walk away and then turned back. And then away again, as if he had lost all sense of direction. “It can’t be,” he said to no one.

“Are you on spice?”

He laughed, a harsh, unexpected sound that caused a burst of static in his helmet. “I wish this were a spice dream, but neither of us is going to get that lucky.” He lifted off his helmet, setting it on a table before he removed his jetpack. He was in his thirties, with dark curly hair and tan skin. A handsome man, in spite of his grim expression. He looked as if he wanted to be doing anything other than what he was doing.

He stripped off his bracers and then worked open the flak vest his chest plates attached to. When he started opening the neck of his flight suit Leia realized that he was undressing.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” she said. “Lay a hand on me and one of us is going to die.”

“I’m not going to touch you.” He said it scornfully, as if the very idea was offensive. “I have to show you something.”

“Why?”

His anger faded a little. “I think you have a right to know.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves of his flight suit and let the top half hang over his belt. He wore a white sleeveless undershirt beneath it, which he pulled over his head in one smooth motion. His back was all smooth skin and muscle, except for a few scattered scars and the line of aurebesh letters that ran vertically down along his spine.

Congratulations. You can read.

“Oh my gods.” Leia could scarcely breathe. “You...you didn’t read it. It was just...the first words you said.”

“Seems impossible that we haven’t spoken before. But even on Bespin we never talked. Not directly.”

“It’s you,” Leia said, still trying to process it. “You’re the hick Mandalorian. From...Concorda...or something.”

He blinked at her. “Concord Dawn. And I’m not. But my dad was.” He waited a moment, as if he was trying to decide something. “When did they show up for you? The actual words, I mean.”

“I was ten, I think.”

“Me too.” A smile appeared, fleeting but sincere. “My dad said they were funny. Like a joke.” He shook his head. “It’s a fucking joke, all right.”

“Tell me about it.” Leia rubbed her temple. “My soulmate is a bounty hunter.”

“And mine is in love with someone else.” Fett winced as if something had just occurred to him. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if I don’t you’ll get yourself killed trying to rescue Solo. You know what happens now, right? Now that we’ve met? If you die, I die.”

“You could help me. Help me get Han out and-”

“And what? You’ll marry him, move to the outer rim and live a long, peaceful life?” His tone was rich with skepticism.

“Maybe I will,” she lied, trying not to think about the rebel forces gathering on Yavin IV.

He looked at her for a moment in silence and then dropped his gaze. “I’ll leave. Whatever plans you have, I’m not part of them. We’ll both just try to...stay alive.” His shoulders rose and fell in one sharp breath. “Since we probably won’t see each other again, is there anything you want to know?”

Leia plucked at the blanket on the bed. “I guess you’ve heard some of the same things I have.”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

“I didn’t feel anything when you…” she gestured at her leg.

“Might have been blocked by the gloves.”

“Yeah. That makes sense, I guess.” It might be her only chance to test it. “If you want to try it again…”

He worked his glove off his right hand and approached her cautiously. His hand spread over her thigh, covering his words completely. Leia felt nothing. She gingerly placed her hand on his naked back, over her own words.

And then she felt everything.

It was...a connection. She could think of no other word to describe it. This person belonged to her. His life, his body, his mind and his soul. He fit her like home. She looked up into his eyes, eyes that reflected the same intense longing. “Oh no,” she breathed, overwhelmed and shaking.

“Yeah,” Fett gasped as he leaned in and kissed her and it was perfect the way no kiss between two strangers should be. Leia’s hand went to his chest and then up around his neck as the kiss deepened and then she was wrapped around him and they were both nearly horizontal on the bed.

And then suddenly he was pushing away, detangling himself from the embrace. He turned his back to her and clutched at his head as if he had a stabbing headache. “No,” he growled. “No fucking way.”

Leia couldn’t take her eyes off the words on his back. Her words. She wanted to touch him again. To hold him and comfort him. But clearly that wasn’t what he wanted. She swallowed the lump that was suddenly in her throat. “So I guess that’s real.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, still facing away. “No matter what some stupid magic tattoo says, that was out of line.”

“It wasn’t…” She didn’t know how to finish that. Was it better or worse if it truly wasn’t what he wanted? For that matter, how could she be sure that it was what she wanted? “No apology necessary,” she said finally.

“That’s gracious of you.” He reached for his undershirt and pulled it back on. “I think I have all the information I need.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed. “So what now?”

“Now I ask you for a favor.” He turned to face her and he put his arms through the sleeves of his flightsuit. “Be careful. Play along with Jabba and don’t do anything that might get you tossed in the rancor pit.”

She inhaled slowly, weighing her options. “I’ll try if you do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“Don’t leave.”

His hands stilled for a second, and then he looked away. “It’s going to be hell,” he said, almost casually. “Not knowing where you are or what you’re doing. Fine. I won’t leave. I’ll help you if I can, but don’t ask me to lift a finger for Solo.”

“Fine.”

---

Things had taken a turn. Leia could feel it in her bones as Jabba’s minions raced for the deck of the sail barge. Fett clearly knew it too.

Artoo bumped against her leg with a quiet beep, and Leia took advantage of the Hutt’s distraction. She crouched down beside the small droid and held the length of chain between her hands. One zap and it broke.

But when she straightened, the bounty hunter was gone.

She heard Jabba’s cry of outrage as she bolted for the deck, but she ignored it. All of his guards were busy fighting. She caught a quick glimpse of her friends on the skiff and then the bounty hunter at the rail. The engines on his jetpack were lit.

Leia seized a pike that had fallen to the deck in the mad rush and swung it as hard as she could. Her aim was too good. Not only did she smash it into his jetpack but the force of the blow sent him over the railing.

Into the sarlacc pit.

She raced to the railing. He’d managed to slow his fall by grasping at the side of the barge, but without a good handhold in reach he was slipping down the side. She reached down with the pike and he grabbed it. A blaster shot ricocheted off the barge inches from his head. Artoo appeared on the deck and whistled sharply. Leia looked over at the droid. “What do you mean ‘it’s going to blow?’”

She jumped barely a second before the explosion. She collided with Fett on the way down and they hit the sand, rolling towards the mouth of the pit until suddenly they jerked to a stop. Fett had one arm wrapped around her and when she looked up she saw his other arm stretched over his head, bent at an angle that screamed ‘broken’ but anchored by his fibercord grappling hook to the skiff above them.

“Leia!” She heard Han shout, but she was too busy trying to hold onto Fett and keep herself from sliding further into the pit.

“Blaster,” Fett rasped. “Sarlacc…”

A tentacle slapped at her ankle and she pulled her leg up as high as she could. She managed to pull the bounty hunter’s blaster pistol from it’s holster and fired at the beast, causing the ground to shudder beneath them.

Chewie appeared over the railing of the skiff and then suddenly the skiff lurched and began to move. Fett let out a muffled cry of pain as it dragged them to safety.

---

“Can you see this?” Leia waved a hand in front of his face and Han squinted.

“I can see the motion.”

“That’s a good sign. Try to get some sleep, okay?” She bent down to kiss his forehead before leaving the Millennium Falcon's crew quarters. Fett was sitting up on the cot, his back against the wall. His arm had been set and placed in a sling and at the insistence of everyone else, his other hand was cuffed to the cot. His helmet sat beside him, and his eyes were half-shut. Lando had given him a pretty big dose of painkillers.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve felt worse.” His mouth curved into a bitter smile. “You fucked up.”

Leia folded her arms over her chest. “I still saved your life, Fett.”

He shook his head as if the motion took effort. “The sarlacc keeps its victims alive. You could have lived your whole life while I was being digested.”

“I don’t think I could have.” Leia sat down beside him on the cot. “I don’t want you to suffer. That’s not the magic tattoo, that’s who I am.” She brushed a dark curl off his forehead and laid her palm on his cheek. The sense of connection and wholeness she felt at Jabba’s was just as strong now. He leaned into the touch and Leia leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, which led to a longer kiss. And then an even longer one.

“What are we doing?” Fett demanded as soon as they broke apart.

“Nothing. You’re drugged to the gills and Chewie would love to have an excuse to throw you out the airlock.” She sighed and leaned back against the wall beside him. “I don’t like being told what to do. Even by fate.”

“My dad used to say ‘fate is whatever you make of your life.’”

He’d spoken of his father before, and always in the past tense. “When did he die?”

“Years ago. When I was still a child.”

“What about your mother?”

“Never had one.”

“I’m sorry. I can tell by the way you talk about your dad that you were close.” Leia turned her head towards him. “I’m an orphan too, you know. Maybe if we’d met at a different time or in a different place…”

Fett nodded and gave her a quick, tired smile. “If fate is real, maybe it’ll bring us back together when we have an actual shot at it.”

She laughed softly. “I like that idea, actually. Put it to the test.”

He lifted his hand as far as the cuff would allow. “I’d shake on it, but…”

“Nice try.” Leia sat up and gave him one last kiss. “For fate.”

[elareine]

What do you think of Jason being the youngest?

So I thought ‘Does that mean that he’s Damian’s age and Damian is his age?’ and this happened. Thanks for the question <3

This Jason has different expectations about being Robin. It’s difficult to think that Robin is magic when the second Robin once stabbed a man in front of your door.

All the kids in Gotham know the Robins. The adults might talk about Batman and Superman; the kids, they gather all the intel they can about the bright birds and share it like precious marbles.

The first Robin—he made everything look easy and fun. Robin II died and he came back, how amazing is that? Robin III always gets up again and makes a joke while he’s at it. Also, long pants, a good choice. And Robin IV... Well, she’s Jason’s favorite. Do not tell his brothers that.

In hindsight, trying to steal the tire caps off the batmobile wasn’t Jason’s greatest idea. At the moment, however, all he can think of is: Whoever Batman is, he clearly has money. Bruce Wayne backs him. He can afford some fucking tires, and Jason just wants to sleep in a shelter for one night, maybe get some food. He needs to start thinking of the winter months. Fall’s short and Gotham’s winters are cruel.  

There’s a polite cough behind him. “Excuse me?”

When Jason whirls around, two men are standing there. Jason vaguely recognizes the older one—maybe from a magazine cover? He’s ridiculously handsome. The other one is about the same height and built, but younger, darker-skinned, and dressed in infinitely more taste.

At least they look amused. Jason doesn’t think he’s gonna be beaten up today, especially when the first man just asks: “What—What were you thinking, stealing tires off that car?”

“Why are you so interested in what I’m doing?” Jason asks back. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you, does it?”

The older man chuckles. “Every citizen must interfere if they witness a crime.”

“Can tell you’re not from around here, then.”

“Still.”

Jason drops the tire cap with some reluctance. There goes his dinner. “Fine. Here you go.”

The younger bends over and pics up the cap, screwing it back in with surprising ease. The older man is still looking at Jason, though. “You know, we could bring you to a good home for kids like you.”

“Been there, done that. The last one tried to turn us into criminals.”

The younger man tilts his head to the side and glances at the crowbar in Jason’s hands.

“That’s to eat! I’m not going to run drugs for anyone.” Jason juts out his chin. “I’m not going back there again.”

“Oh, boy,” the older man sighs, and then he says: “Okay, you know what? Get in.”

And then he pulls out the keys to the Batmobile.

“Richard—” the younger man says. There’s a look of resignation on his face, though.

“It’s what B would’ve done,” Richard replies and looks at Jason. “How about you come with us, then?”

And look. Jason knows that you shouldn’t get into a car with strangers. He knows. But it’s the Batmobile, what the fuck is he supposed to say? ’No?’

Apparently, though, Batman is dead? Except that Dick Grayson, aka Robin I, and Damian Wayne, Robin II, took over in his stead. And now Jason gets to be Robin! Robin!

Tim… he doesn’t take it well. Jason gets that, honestly. He probably wouldn’t react well to being replaced, either. Dick insists that’s not it, but, you know. Seems to Jason like Tim has his own issues to deal with, honestly.

(It’s okay. Once Tim is done with his whole eat-pray-beat people up-spiel and brings Bruce back, they become friends. Jason finds out that Tim took over as Robin when he saw Bruce fall apart after Damian’s death and has worried about his place ever since. It’s been bad enough ever since Damian came back, especially since those two do not get along. Seeing Jason arrive was just the last straw.)

Robin is blood and sweat and pain, and Jason loves it. No matter who’s wearing the cowl, Jason is there, a bright distraction, a valuable ally, a spark of color in Gotham’s darkness.

He would never tell Dick, but he prefers working with Bruce. They just click. Jason likes making the older man laugh; he has too many worry lines already.

And yeah, okay, as he gets older, he chafes under Bruce’s rules sometimes. Bruce doesn’t get that some people need to stay down. Despite everything, he’s always been able to go back to his manor and live there. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to live right where all the crime happens.

When that happens, though, Dick is there to tell him anecdotes about the time Bruce and he screamed at each other so much Alfred actually quit. Damian lets him debate the ethics of killing serial offenders with him—his perspective is fascinating, even if Jason doesn’t always agree, and he never treats Jason like a child. Cass joins them occasionally.

And if it still gets too much, Jason can hide at Steph’s place. She always tells Bruce to fuck off when he asks if Jason’s there.

When his mother (his mother) contacts him, he doesn’t go alone. Well, not for lack of trying. But Tim, the fucking stalker that he is, found out, and then he and O went ballistics on Sheila’s digital footprint until they found all the dirt.

They tell Jason that it’s a trap. He refuses to cancel the meeting. Damian actually agrees with that decision (he knows about mothers), but it also means that everyone in the family ‘subtly’ follows him to Ethiopia. Jason books a commercial flight and then has to watch everyone else sit in first class.

Meeting his mother… it is what it is. The Joker tries to divide them, sure—he’s done it before, he’ll do it again. But O’s voice is in their heads, telling them to under no circumstances let Jason go anywhere alone, and Damian sticks to him like a shadow.

“I refuse to let anyone else die in that hideous costume,” is all he says.

“It’s better than your emo version.”

When Sheila calls for their help, they come. Of course. It’s what Robins do.

It gets ugly. Even Flamebird and Robin have difficulties dealing with the Joker when he’s had time to prepare. There’s a crowbar, and a bomb, and too much blood, and Jason passes out.

When Jason comes to just minutes later, he’s next to the burning warehouse. Damian is holding him up, bleeding. Jason is pretty sure that half his own side is burned. He probably has a concussion from the way his head’s feeling like taffy. Whatever. He’ll live.

“Hey,” he asks Damian as they stare at the fire, “do you think Bruce would let me get away with ditching the cape? Cause I’m thinking I might invest in a helmet.”

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 9: Outlander Avenger

this took too long to post heehoo ive noticed that sometimes italics don’t save when im posting on tumblr? might have been a glitch idk but in that case it’s better to read on AO3 where the formatting is actually proper lol 

summary On their arrival to Vivec City, the twins part ways and Fahjoth finds himself drawn into the investigation of a very serious crime. 

content warnings violence, blood, minor character death

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

————————————————————————

“Ey, Ribyna, have you ever heard of Ashlanders?”

“Yeah, why?”

Fahjoth paused, pulling a disgruntled pout. The sun had well and truly set now; the last vestiges of warmth had evaporated entirely, replaced by a nipping chill and creeping shadows that submerged their surroundings in deep blue blankets. Vivec City loomed in the distance, unlike anything Fahjoth had ever seen before. Instead of individual houses like he had seen in every other town he’d been to so far, the city was populated by rows of colossal cantons, square and blocky yet towering over them with a kind of intimidating grandeur. Walkways bridged the gaps between the cantons, stretching over the rolling waters of the Ascadian Isles’ open bay, and several flags and tapestries fluttered from the sides of the cantons, embroidered with differing patterns and art that Fahjoth couldn’t make out from a distance. 

Turning his gaze back to Ribyna as they crossed the bridge towards the first canton, Fahjoth gave an exasperated huff, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. “Oh, so it’s just me, then?” he questioned. “Being an idiot as per usual. D’you know, I made a right tit of myself to Cosades earlier. Told him I didn’t know what Ashlanders were, then he gave me a bollocking for being a dipshit. I mean, how was I supposed to know? Nobody’s told me!” 

Ribyna’s response was surprisingly terse. “Well, maybe if you kept your mouth shut more often instead of chatting a load of shit, you’d listen and actually learn something for once.”

Fahjoth blinked, taken aback by this harsh rebuttal. He was used to Ribyna’s blunt manner of speaking of course, but this was something else entirely. He had noticed her demeanour getting more subdued and her posture stiffening the closer they got to Vivec City, and chalked it up to weariness after their long walk. Now, however, he was not so sure. Was that a hint of nervousness he detected in her voice?

“Are you alright?” he asked, then frowned sympathetically. “Bit nervous about being in the big city?”

“What?” Ribyna turned back to Fahjoth and flashed him a scathing look. “No, of course not. Don’t be stupid.” 

“Then what is it?” He received no response, as Ribyna stopped walking and examined their surroundings, occasionally dropping her gaze down and squinting at the map she held. 

“Right, I’ve got some shit to do,” she announced, as if she hadn’t even heard Fahjoth’s concerns. Fahjoth was certain that this wasn’t the case. “I’ll see you later.”

“Whoah, hang on a second!” Fahjoth protested, disconcerted by Ribyna’s unexpected change of plans. “I didn’t realise we’d be splitting up. What are you doing, anyway?” 

“Just... stuff,” Ribyna replied vaguely. Fahjoth grimaced; perhaps it was best that he didn’t know the details after all, if she was here on business with the Thieves Guild. 

“Alright, fine,” Fahjoth said, relenting. “But where should I meet you?” 

“Uh...” Ribyna gestured aimlessly at the immediate canton, the details on its banners now impossible to make out in the dark. “The map says this is the Foreign Quarter. Just find a cornerclub or something in here and get a room sorted for us. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done.” 

“Right,” Fahjoth replied mutedly. Admittedly, he was disappointed; he had been assuming that he and Ribyna would explore Vivec City together, but now, he was resigning himself to being Billy-No-Mates for the next few hours, or however long Ribyna would take to do her mysterious errand. “See you later then.” 

Fahjoth thought Ribyna may have flashed him an apologetic glance before she turned away, but then she stalked away along the path flanking the canton and rounded the corner, disappearing out of sight. Heaving a sigh that materialised in the air as a faint puff of steam, Fahjoth turned and headed up the sloping path towards the canton’s upper door, slipping inside and into the warmth. 

The inside of the canton was well-lit with torches and rather cheerfully decorated, an array of potted plants sitting in the corners while colourful tapestries and banners hung from the walls. Fahjoth could see a variety of people going about their business, not just Dunmer but Imperials, Bretons, and Redguards, among others, and in that moment he felt a strange sense of almost belonging. Initially he was surprised, until he realised that he was in the Foreign Quarter, and he was left with a deep feeling of despondency instead. 

This grim reminder that he truly was an outlander was accentuated by the unrelenting glares he received from the Ordinators who patrolled the corridors, striking an intimidating presence with their gleaming gold armour and helmets, fashioned into the shape of a sharp elven face with a crest of hair atop their heads. 

“We’ll have no trouble here,” one of the Ordinators said in a low, rasping voice as he walked by. “Move along.”

Suppressing a shudder, Fahjoth began to wander around the upper floor of the canton, trying to look as if he knew where he was going as opposed to being totally lost. Fortunately, it didn’t take too long before he found himself at a door with a sign overhead reading The Black Shalk Cornerclub. Figuring that he was not going to find anywhere more ideal than this, he pushed the door open and stepped in with caution. 

The cornerclub was quiet, with only a few punters sitting around tables or standing in the corners of the room, deep in conversation. A Dunmer stood organising a collection of bottles behind the counter, while an Argonian sat at the bar nursing a drink of his own. Fahjoth approached, plonked himself onto a stool near to the Argonian, and offered him a smile of greeting. The Argonian, who had seemed quite tense as Fahjoth sat down, suddenly relaxed and gave Fahjoth a polite smile in return. 

“Can I have a mazte, please?” he asked the barman, reaching into his pocket for his coin purse. “Oh, and how much would a room be for the night for two people?”

“That’ll be twenty drakes for the room, sera,” the barman replied, pushing a bottle of mazte towards Fahjoth. “And ten for the mazte.”

“Oh, alright, cheers! I’ll take it then,” Fahjoth replied, handing over the coins with relief. He caught the Argonian’s eye and chuckled, a wry grin curling the corner of his mouth. “Ribyna reckoned it’d be more expensive than that.”

“Ribyna?” the Argonian questioned. 

“Ah, that’s my twin! She’s off doing... something,” Fahjoth answered, his voice trailing off thoughtfully as a mild frown settled on his face. “I’m not sure what. She wouldn’t say.” 

“I see. That sounds rather sinister.” The Argonian smirked. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Fahjoth couldn’t hold back an awkward giggle. “You’re right, sorry. My name’s Fahjoth,” he said, holding his hand out, which the Argonian shook after a brief pause. 

“Huleeya,” he introduced himself, withdrawing his hand and taking a sip of his drink. “Well, I can’t blame your twin for being secretive. Not with this recent spate of attacks on outlanders.” 

Fahjoth’s smile slipped from his face. “Attacks?”

“Oh, yes.” Huleeya nodded gravely. “Not just attacks, but murders. Five outlanders have been found dead this week. Not only that, but two Ordinators have been found dead too. Killed in the same way — that is, with their throats slit.” 

“Gods alive... Do they know who’s doing it?”

“If they knew, they would have been caught already,” Huleeya replied. “The Justice Offices are looking for help in catching the killer, from what I’ve heard.” 

Fahjoth paused. Though this had given him a lot to think about, there was something else he wanted to ask. “Is that why you looked a bit...” — he gestured vaguely with a wave of his hand — “on edge when I came over?”

“Hm? Ah, no. It’s not that,” Huleeya said. “It just wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had trouble from the local Dunmer, that’s all.”

“What do you—?”

“Excuse me, outlander. I should get going.” Huleeya finished the remainder of his drink and stood up. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Fahjoth. You and your twin should be careful if you’re out wandering alone at night.”

“Ah... we will. Thanks, mate,” Fahjoth answered, watching as Huleeya said his farewells to the barkeep and took his leave. Once again, Fahjoth was left alone with his thoughts, and he began to get some very dangerous thoughts indeed. 

The Justice Offices are looking for help in catching the killer...

He bit his lip as he nursed his mazte, quietly wrestling with his own brain. To think that he would be able to go up against a serial killer who had slain two highly trained Ordinators was madness, and yet...

By the time he had drained the last of his mazte from the bottle, he had made his decision. Fahjoth stood up, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of foreboding, dropped off his supplies in his rented room and headed outside into the fresh night air once more. 

                              ——————————————

The Office of the Watch was much further away than Fahjoth had anticipated, and by the time he arrived, his legs — which had been trembling with nerves — were heavy and aching from weariness, which didn’t bode well for what he had to do. It had been a very long day already, and more than anything Fahjoth was craving a nice warm bed to fall into, but he’d come all this way. There was no going back now. 

After navigating the Hall of Justice — with some difficulty, assuaged only slightly by the directions given to him from irate Ordinators on patrol — Fahjoth eventually found himself at the doors of the Office of the Watch, which he knocked gently and waited to be given permission to enter. 

Peering around the door, Fahjoth was faced with a rather small and cluttered office inhabited by three Dunmer in the usual golden cuirass and boots, who were sitting at messy desks and perusing sheaves of parchment. One of them, a dark-haired Mer with a moustache and goatee, eyed Fahjoth as he crossed the threshold, the heavy bags under his eyes indicative of his tiredness.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “We’re very busy, as you can see.”

“Sorry to bother you,” Fahjoth apologised, “but I’m looking for an Elam Andas?”

“Yes, that’s me. I am Elam Andas, chief of Vivec's Order of the Watch. Are you here looking for work?”

Fahjoth bit his lip, knowing full well that this was his last chance to back out of his foolish and potentially suicidal mission, but he ploughed on anyway. “I heard you were looking for help solving these recent murders.”

The effect his words had on the office was startling. The officers stopped what they were doing, each of them fixing their red eyes on Fahjoth with dubious expressions. Fahjoth remained silent until Andas spoke again. 

“We cannot officially hire you as only Ordinators can serve the watch,” he explained. “But if you can find this killer and bring them to justice, we’ll see to it that you’re rewarded for your efforts.”

Bring them to justice? Now that was something Fahjoth was sure was well above his pay grade. He had been hoping to do a bit of investigation, to help the Watch with their search, but to be tasked with bringing down a serial killer himself? That wasn’t something he was at all confident he could handle. 

“Oh, I—” he started in alarm, but Andas cut him off. 

“I require no commitment from you,” Andas informed him. “In fact, I can’t even officially accept one. But if you’re serious about helping, I can tell you what we know so far about the killer and the victims.”  

After a moment of hesitation, Fahjoth nodded, and Andas gestured to the seat across his desk. Fahjoth obeyed, sitting and listening in silence. 

“There have been seven victims so far, five outlanders and two Ordinators, and all with their throats slit. Three of the victims were found in the Foreign Quarter, one near the Arena and one in the Hlaalu Compound. None of the outlanders had been on Vvardenfell for more than a week.

“Our Ordinators were found near the body in the Hlaalu Compound, and we think they interrupted the killer at work. Despite the fact that they were armed and on duty, their weapons were still in their sheaths when their bodies were found, which is unsettling. We’re likely looking at someone incredibly stealthy, or adept at illusion magic.”

It was times like this that Fahjoth dearly wished he could read and write. At least then he would have been able to make notes. 

“Finally... there is the matter of witnesses. We’ve had no official witnesses come forward, but one outlander reported being threatened by a Dunmer woman with a dagger in the Hlaalu Compound, around the time of the other murders. He couldn’t give us a very clear description as he teleported himself away to safety, but he told us she was wearing a skirt and netch leather armour.”

Fahjoth nodded, frowning as he tried to absorb all of this information, all the while his heartbeat had quickened uncomfortably with apprehension. Without further ado, he stood and excused himself from the office, heading back outside and into the late night’s chilly grip. 

Hearing about the victims, as well as Huleeya’s dire warning, had strengthened Fahjoth’s resolve. Someone was lurking in the shadows of Vivec City, slaughtering innocent people seemingly purely because of their foreign origins. People just like him.

His years spent away from Morrowind had left him as good as an outlander in the eyes of the native Dunmer, and if someone considered that fact alone a trait punishable by death, then they couldn’t be allowed to continue to walk free. Someone needed to deal with them, and if the city’s Ordinators couldn’t — or wouldn’t — then perhaps it would be up to him. 

Although... it would probably be a good idea to find Ribyna first, Fahjoth figured as he set off towards the city’s northernmost cantons, before he went blundering headfirst to his potential death. Again. 

The path ahead was dark and unsettling, and Fahjoth found himself throwing anxious glances over his shoulder every few minutes, flinching at the slightest unexpected sound and eyeing every shadow with mistrust lest he be ambushed by a dagger-wielding, skirt-donning Dunmer intent on ending his life. It was with relief that he made it to the first of his destinations and, incidentally, the last place he had seen Ribyna heading towards — the Arena. 

                             ——————————————

Unfortunately for Fahjoth, Ribyna was nowhere to be seen, so he lingered around the Arena for long enough to do some investigating, inquiring with a few inhabitants and Ordinators but turning up no new leads. Eventually he was forced to resign himself to the fact that he would be a lone worker in this case — a thought that inspired a well of dread in his gut — and moved on. 

The same was to be said with the Hlaalu Compound, where Fahjoth had checked in the hope that someone would have seen something about the attempted attack, but he had no luck there either. He then moved on to the Foreign Quarter where, to his surprise, an Orc was happy to assist. 

“I recall someone — maybe one of the sewer cleaners — saying something about seeing a Dunmer woman down in the Underworks. Wouldn’t be that odd, but... in the Underworks? That’s odd. Nothing down there but rats and sewers.”

Which led Fahjoth to his next point of investigation — the Underworks. 

                             ——————————————

The moment he stepped foot in the Underworks, the smell hit him like a brick to the face. Almost choking on the pungent stench of sewage water, Fahjoth lingered for just long enough to feel just a little more regret before he set off, trying to forget the misgivings he felt. He yanked his scarf up to cover his nose and mouth and navigated the Underworks as carefully as he could, every footstep deliberately placed to be as quiet as possible. He was well aware that the killer could be lurking around any corner, and the deeper he tread into the sewers the more he felt his legs begin to tremble.  

It was almost silent down here, the only sounds being that of the murky water sloshing against the smooth stone sewer walls and the occasional drip of moisture from the damp-ridden ceiling. Every so often he would hear a rat scuttling around in the darkness and his heart would jolt, requiring him to take a moment to stop and let his adrenaline levels fall after an unpleasant spike that set his pulse racing. 

As he progressed, however, more unpleasant thoughts began to surface in his mind. One possibility kept presenting itself to him, and as hard as he tried to reject it, he found that he couldn’t wholeheartedly dismiss it. 

“What are you doing, anyway?” 

“Just... stuff.”

He remembered that strange look on Ribyna’s face when he mentioned going to Vivec City. He could tell easily when his twin was apprehensive, and as brief as it was, it had been only too clear to see on her face back in Balmora. Was she nervous about returning to the scene of the crime?

But that was ridiculous! His twin wasn’t a murderer! 

What reason would she have to kill outlanders, anyway? The more Fahjoth thought about it, the more illogical it seemed. Least of all because he had never even seen Ribyna wear a skirt for as long as he could remember. So why couldn’t he simply disregard it? The fact that he even had doubts in the first place said enough, and he was even more nervous as he crept through the tunnels, dreading the possibility of seeing his twin around the next bend. 

So wrapped up was he in his own thoughts that as Fahjoth rounded a corner and exited a smaller tunnel into a larger section of the sewers, he didn’t even notice the figure standing at the end of the tunnel until he was looking straight at them. With a choked gasp, he flung himself back around the corner from which he had just emerged and pressed himself against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach tied up in knots. After pausing to listen for any sign of the stranger’s approach, he deemed it safe enough to peer around the wall again and get a better look at the figure ahead. 

Even in the low light, he could tell that it was a Dunmer, and they were indeed wearing a skirt with what seemed to be a leather cuirass. This particular corner of the sewer almost looked like a base, with a scruffy bedroll laying on the ground near evidence of where a makeshift fireplace had been lit in the form of a charred mound of wood scraps. A pile of dilapidated crates and debris were strewn haphazardly around the alcove, in some cases holding — or failing to hold — contents like food and bottles of alcohol. Evidently, this was someone who had stocked up for some time. 

Fortunately, she hadn’t noticed Fahjoth yet. She sat atop one of the crates, perusing some sort of book or journal and occasionally making notes. A dagger — stained an ominous rusty hue — sat by her side, and Fahjoth’s suspicions were all but confirmed. 

How was he going to do this?

He could call it a day, back out quietly the way he came and return to the Office of the Watch with what he knew of the killer’s whereabouts. But even then, would anything get done? Would the Ordinators get here in time before the killer made another move, and claimed another victim?

Perhaps if he could sneak up behind her, he could get the advantage. He knew better than anyone that he was no master of stealth, but she looked fairly preoccupied. Perhaps if he was quiet and quick, then— 

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind did he become aware of a weight suddenly pulling vigorously on his foot. As he looked down, he silently squirmed and grimaced at the sight of a large rat digging its teeth into the chitin, shaking its head as if determined to pull his boot clean off. It made no noise other than a soft, squeaky growl, but the splashing of the water beneath its paws was unsettlingly loud and echoed due to the circular tunnel’s acoustics. If this kept up, it was only a matter of time before the killer would notice him. 

“Get off!” Fahjoth hissed, frantically shaking his foot. “Get off! Get off, you little c—!”

Unfortunately, the rat refused to budge. It was dragged along in the wake of Fahjoth’s mild kicks, which gradually grew more and more vigorous as he fought to free his foot of the rat’s vice-like grip. Leaning on the wall for balance, he raised his foot up off the ground, now aggressively kicking at the air when all prior attempts at gently shaking the rat off failed. The situation would have been comical had Fahjoth not been so painfully conscious of the murderer sitting barely 20 yards away from where he stood. 

At last, after what felt like hours, the rat let go. However, the momentum given to it by Fahjoth’s kicking motion caused it to gracefully soar away as it was flung off his foot and land with a tremendous splash in the deep sewer water in front of him. 

Instantly, Fahjoth froze. He pressed himself back against the wall, his breathing fast and laboured as he strained his ears for any sign of movement. Apart from the splashing of the rat as it swam away, apparently done with terrorising Fahjoth for the time being, all was silent. Then, as he dared to peek around the corner to evaluate the situation, a pair of red eyes stared into his own as he made direct eye contact with the Dunmer. 

Her reaction was instant. She leapt up from her seat, dagger in hand, and stormed the length of the tunnel towards him, already screaming abuse and profanities in his direction. Kicking hard off the ground, Fahjoth threw himself into motion, and with the Dunmer hurtling closer his options for where to go were limited. A brown and grey blur in his peripheral as he passed indicated that the Dunmer was giving chase, but with the advantage of having longer legs, Fahjoth half-sprinted and half-leapt over a nearby bridge spanning the sewer water before pelting down to the tunnel’s end. Whirling around once he came to a stop, the Dunmer was mere seconds behind him, so Fahjoth drew his sword and stood fast. 

Wielding a dagger which seemed to emanate a sickly red glow, his opponent lunged, landing a glancing blow against Fahjoth’s armour as he leapt back. But she was much faster than he had anticipated. He stumbled back and threw himself from side to side to avoid the Dunmer’s aggressive strategy of repeated jabs and slashes, breaking into a sweat and feeling his flanks ache with every shallow pant. One thrust of the dagger slid between the gap in the chitin protecting his arm, slicing through the sleeve and nicking the skin beneath. 

With a gasp, Fahjoth flung himself backwards. There was a dull thud as his heel collided with something on the ground and his balance was completely thrown off. 

His stomach lurched as he began a sharp descent, hitting the ground with a painful bump. The scraping and groans of the crates he fell against rang in his ears as the Dunmer was suddenly filling his vision, dagger poised ready to plunge into his throat. 

With his sword arm raised in a vague attempt to defend himself, Fahjoth reached to the side, grasping at nothingness in a frantic search for something, anything, that could— 

The cold sliminess of damp wood brushed against his fingertips. He fastened his grip, braced himself and flung the broken chunk at his assailant with as much force as he could muster. 

The jagged lump of wood, a deadly weapon in its own right in the right circumstances, struck the Dunmer square in the face. She staggered back with a howl of pain, clutching her eye while blood seeped from a fresh injury above her brow. With adrenaline coursing through him, Fahjoth sprung to his feet, clutching the hilt of his sword with fingers now damp from his own blood. 

The Dunmer lifted her gaze to Fahjoth again, her uninjured eye blazing with a chilling hatred, but before she could make another move Fahjoth had sprung. He rushed forward and thrust his sword into the Dunmer’s midriff, the tip of the blade piercing the thin, aged leather of her armour with surprising ease. Then he continued pushing forward, until his sword had been buried up to its hilt into her stomach and protruded out from her navel. 

The Dunmer froze, paralysed by the deadly blow, and Fahjoth relinquished his weapon and backed off, unable to do anything else but stare as she staggered to the side and fell. A sharp clang announced her collision to the ground as the sword’s blade hit the ground first, but once her momentum stopped and she lay still, total silence fell upon them. 

Silence, apart from the sound of Fahjoth’s ragged breathing. 

As he stared down at the lifeless Dunmer on the ground before him, Fahjoth only became conscious of how badly his legs were shaking when he tried to take a step forward and his knees almost buckled beneath his weight. Only one thought circled in his mind, over and over, as he silently watched the blood starting to ooze out from beneath her body. 

He had done this.

Someone was dead because of him. 

The more logical part of his brain insisted that if he hadn’t, it would have been him lying there in a pool of his own blood instead. But that didn’t make him feel much better about the fact that he had just taken someone’s life. 

There was a part of him that didn’t even want to approach the body to retrieve his shortsword, but at the end of the day, he had paid good money for that. And it wasn’t as if he had a backup. So with a trembling hand he grasped the hilt, slowly prising the sword out of the Dunmer’s body and wincing at the sickening sound of the blade gliding against flesh, squelching and wet. He cleaned the metal as best he could using linen from the makeshift bed, then sheathed his weapon and reluctantly searched the camp for evidence to present to Elam Andas. 

He didn’t find much of any substance. The journal the Dunmer had been reading was, of course, impossible for him to read. Quite apart from not finding any sense in the words, it was damp and smudged terribly to the point where it was barely legible. Still, perhaps the Office of the Watch would have better luck; he took it, along with an old rusty key and the Dunmer’s dagger, which left him feeling oddly nauseous and drained after his fingertips came into direct contact with it.

The damp stickiness of blood on his arm and staining his sleeve was impossible to ignore, as was the injury beneath it, so Fahjoth took a moment to attempt to heal it on his own. With the spell he had acquired from the Mages Guild in mind, Fahjoth closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in concentration; he racked every corner of his brain, searching for any spark that could ignite the spell that he could feel hesitating at his fingertips. But in his already worn-out state, the attempts only ended up draining yet more of his energy and left him with a considerable headache. In the end he conceded and admitted defeat, recognising a lost cause when he saw one. 

Then Fahjoth embarked on the long walk back to the Hall of Justice, craving fresh air and a warm bed above all else. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he had successfully taken on a serial killer and lived to tell the tale, but there was an odd light-heartedness in his chest as he traipsed back along the paths through Vivec City’s shadowy cantons, feeling somehow more confident than before.

                             ——————————————  

Fahjoth’s triumphant — albeit exhausted and bloodied — return to the Office of the Watch was met with disbelief at first, followed by amazement once he broke the news that the killer had been dealt with. Elam Andas was thrilled and accepted the dagger and journal as evidence without question, perhaps a sign of how desperate he was to believe that this Dunmer was no longer a threat. After expressing his gratitude he sent Fahjoth on his way, with a promise that Ordinators would be sent to clean up the mess and the reward of an enchanted belt to protect him on his travels, which Fahjoth accepted eagerly. Although he was pleased with the response to his daring deed, he was now more than ever looking forward to collapsing into bed after a very, very long day. 

With thoughts of only soft pillows and warm sheets on his mind as he entered the familiarity of the Foreign Quarter, it wasn’t until he came face-to-face with someone approaching the hallway to the cornerclub from the opposite way that he realised he had forgotten something — or rather, someone.

“Ribyna!” Fahjoth exclaimed, recognising his sibling even from a distance. But something was wrong. There was no wave or call of greeting from Ribyna, who walked silently over to him with a pronounced limp in her step.

“Ribyna?”

In the light of the torch that hung from the nearby wall, Fahjoth could see that Ribyna was in a dreadful state. Her armour was scuffed and damaged in places and her hair was a mess, but most worryingly was the copious amount of bloodstains that spattered and smeared her almost from head to foot.

“Ribyna!” Fahjoth gasped, rushing over to meet her and instantly beginning to fuss. “What the hell happened?! Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” Ribyna grunted, making a half-hearted attempt to push Fahjoth away.

“You’re covered in blood!”

“It’s fine. It’s not my blood.” Ribyna paused to wince, doubling over slightly and gritting her teeth. “Most of it...” 

Before Fahjoth could question her further, they were interrupted by the rapid approach of an Ordinator, his sword drawn and raised at Ribyna threateningly. 

“Halt!” he barked. “Murderous scum! You violated the law, outlander. Surrender and come with me immediately.”

Fahjoth's mouth fell open with horror. Murderous? Surely there had to be some kind of mistake...

However, Ribyna's silence was not encouraging. Instead of protesting her innocence, she reached into a pocket and tugged out a somewhat bloodstained roll of parchment, which she passed over to the guard without a word. To Fahjoth's astonishment, once he had finished reading it, he nodded and tucked the note away in his own armour.

“All of your papers seem to be in order,” he said, dipping his head to Ribyna. “You are free to go.”

And then he walked away, leaving Fahjoth utterly bemused as he stared at his still very quiet twin. 

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell just happened?” he questioned, and Ribyna huffed. 

"In a sec. Let's get inside first," she muttered, slipping away into the cornerclub without waiting for a response. Fahjoth, left with little choice, followed her in and then led the way to their room. The moment he opened the door, Ribyna pushed past him and dropped down onto the bed with a groan — much to Fahjoth's displeasure, as he had been hoping to do this exact thing first. 

“Well?” he prompted, lowering himself into a nearby chair and slouching back, relishing the chance to take the weight off his sore feet for a while. “What was that guard on about, calling you ‘murderous scum’?” 

It was a moment or two before Ribyna dragged herself upright again and turned her gaze to Fahjoth. 

“I joined the Morag Tong.”

Fahjoth, who had been in the process of removing his boots, froze motionless as he felt his blood run cold. “You what?!” he hissed, once he found his voice again. “You’ve— what?!”

“Yeah.” Ribyna’s tone was level as she stared back at Fahjoth, looking more tired than defensive. “Don’t start, alright? I’m knackered.”

“Don’t st—?!” Fahjoth bolted upright, keeping his voice hushed as best he could but fighting to quash the outrage that burned in his chest. “You’ve gone and joined a murder cult and you’re telling me to not start?!”

“It’s not a murder cult!” Ribyna protested. “It’s perfectly legal!”

“Just because it’s legal, doesn’t mean it’s not a—” Fahjoth stopped mid-rant, rubbing his eyes with exasperation. “Just... Ugh, what have you gone and done that for? Can’t you just do something... normal?! Like... I dunno, go join the Fighters Guild if you really wanna stab things!”

“No.” She slouched down, looking suddenly more tired than ever. “Look, maybe I’m fed up of being treated like the shit on everyone’s shoes, alright? Maybe I just... wanted a bit of respect for once.”

Fahjoth faltered, experiencing a flicker of sympathy for his twin. He knew that feeling all too well. “Beebs, you don’t need to become a murderer to be respected.”

“I was already a murderer,” Ribyna pointed out bluntly. Fahjoth felt a twist in his gut, memories from that horrendous day threatening to resurface in his mind. “At least this way I can get paid for it.” 

Fahjoth paused, struggling to find an argument and fighting to put into words exactly how he felt about Ribyna’s new career choice. Eventually, he heaved a sigh. “But... it can’t be safe. Look, you’re injured! I’m... I’m worried about you, Ribyna.” 

“Well, don’t be. Turns out I’m half-decent at killing people.” Naturally, Ribyna’s answer didn’t reassure Fahjoth in the slightest, but she ploughed on anyway with a change of subject. “Anyway, what about you? What have you been up to?” Now that she was evaluating Fahjoth properly, her eyes soon fell on the bloodstains that still blemished his clothes and armour. “Is that blood?!”

“Yeah... and this time, it is mine. Honestly, you won’t believe the day I’ve had, Beebs,” Fahjoth said, before he began to regale the whole story; meeting Huleeya, learning about the outlander killings, going to the Office of the Watch, venturing into the Underworks... 

By the time he had finished, Ribyna was staring at him with an incredulous look on her face. 

“Hang on,” she started, “you killed someone and you’re having a go at me for joining the Morag Tong? Hypocrite, much!”

“I— but— what?!” Fahjoth spluttered, affronted. “Th-that’s different! I’m not an assassin, I was stopping a serial killer—”

But he promptly shut his mouth once he noticed the wry grin curling at the corners of Ribyna’s lips. 

“I’m only messing,” she chortled, her smirk quickly becoming a proud smile. “Holy shit, that’s amazing, Fahji. Shame they didn’t pay you for it, mind.” 

“I don’t mind,” Fahjoth replied honestly, calming down again. “I’m just glad she can’t hurt anyone else.” He paused, feeling heat rising in his face as he prepared himself to confess to something. “Honestly for a little while, I was worried that the killer was gonna be you.”

Ribyna promptly cocked a brow. “You fucking donkey, why would I go around killing outlanders? I am an outlander!”

“I was just freaking out!” Fahjoth protested. “I was tired, and nervous, and you’d been acting proper shifty, and— well, I obviously wasn’t that far off, was I? Might not’ve been outlanders, but you were planning on killing people after all!”

Ribyna rolled her eyes, busying herself with removing her own armour. “Yeah yeah, alright, you’ve already said your piece. Come on, let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep. I’m absolutely wrecked.”

Though he still had plenty more to say on the matter, Fahjoth agreed, for both their sakes. He was looking forward to crashing just as much as Ribyna was, and once they had finished helping each other tend to their injuries and settled down for the night, Fahjoth was asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillows. 

—————————————————————————————

tag list  @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

[bluesakurablossom]

Guardian Angel

This was a rewrite of number 87 since I wanted to make it better, hope you all enjoy it <3

You knew that if you did this there would be no going back, you knew how much trouble you would be in if anyone caught you, but you still went ahead and did the unthinkable. This was your mission and you had to be there……for him. You were in a secret laboratory in some kind of underground research facility. You were meant to save someone who needed your help and with that you didn’t hesitate to take action. When you had taken out the people who were guarding this person, you had used your special song to lure them to sleep as they fell to the floor as you sang quietly. You had entered the room and found outside an observatory window was a huge metal tank were the number 87 was written on the doors. You thought it was a bit strange since it seemed very large for just one person to be in by themselves. Refocusing you were meant to save this individual from a certain death, you were just only hoped to have been able to reach him in time.

You stepped forward and noticed the two locks with keys to open the tank and you turned both keys to the chamber making a siren go off. You rose your hand to shut both of the sliding metal doors to block anyone from coming in and luckily only the people in the room that could have heard it as they laid still asleep as the huge metal doors began to unlatch. They slid open slowly as you made your way from the observation room down the stairs to stop right in front of doors. You saw water come sipping out from the room, separating into puddles. You weren’t entirely sure if it was bodily fluid or something else as it nearly got at your shoes. Your heart was racing, you weren’t sure on who you were going to see based on what you had seen prior, but your curiosity seemed to be getting the better of you. Inside was nothing but pure darkness, you couldn’t even see a few feet in front of you. The thought of being trapped in that darkness for that long was torture, and the fact that he had been in there for so long made it much worse.

“Leonardo, come on out, don’t be scared”, you called out gently “It’s okay love, you can come on out now”

You didn’t hear anything for a moment till you heard scratchy breathing getting louder and louder. You stepped a bit closer to see what it was and to your amazement and horror, you saw a thin pale green three fingered hand grip the huge metal door till it was met by another. You gasped softly seeing a giant body greet your sight but it wasn’t a person, no, it was a giant turtle! Yes a giant turtle, one that had walked on two feet like an actual human, but as he stepped forward putting all his weight on the door, you gasped in horror seeing how emaciated he was as he made a wobbly step letting go of the door. He had barely any weight on him, you weren’t sure how he was still alive from how thin he was. Even at a distance you could see every bone in his body, he looked so malnourished, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks or even months at that. His skin was so pale green, like all the color had been drained from him. “Oh my…”

You weren’t able to finish your words….

He had stepped out making a splash with his foot from the fluid that came out from the room and you saw him step into the light with white bandages tied tightly around his head and some kind of metal helmet underneath where you couldn’t see his face. You weren’t entirely sure what it was for or why he had that on his head, but it looked like it made it barely breathable.

Only a pair of blue shorts covered his extremities and there was some kind of huge tube that was forced between his legs as it dragged from behind him with each step that he made. Very slowly he made short steps as he continued to breathe scratchy walking towards your direction, even with being blind by the bandages he was walking straight towards you. You stepped closer holding out your arms carefully to him. “Good, easy steps”, you said, softly “One foot at a time..”

As he got closer you knew he was weak and you couldn’t believe the condition that he was in, it was beyond horrific and grimacing. Even though you didn’t who he was, not even a person like himself should be suffering like this. But as he made one more step towards you, he began to wobble unsteadily very quickly and with the lack of energy and nutrition caused him to fall face first on the ground forcing the tube out of his body releasing some weird grey mushy substance. You gasped worriedly as you ran to him and you quickly knelt down to him, your hands gently touching his icy cold shoulders.  You turned him over gently being careful not to hurt him anymore than he might be, his body was freezing against yours as you carefully used your hand for supporting his head as his cracked shell rested on your bent legs and you looked down at him with deep concern. The fall had cracked part of the metal helmet where you could see his mouth and skin that was dry and badly cracked from dehydration. “Oh my gosh, you poor thing, what did they do to you?”

You felt a few tears drop from your eyes, you felt so bad for him. Never in your life would you see such cruelty. Why must humans here on Earth be so spiteful, cruel, and evil towards such people, it didn’t make much sense on why it had happened to him. Your hand carefully unraveled the bandages around his head till they slid down to his side and you finally saw his face. It was filled with pure innocence and deep scars. Pale blue eyes opened slowly and his head turned slowly towards you as you felt more tears bubble in your eyes. His eyes quickly showed fear but you were quick yet gentle to touch his chest over his pounding heart. “Leonardo…I am here to help you”

“W-who are you?”

His voice was scratchy from lack of use. “An angel, an angel who was sent to free you”

“An A-Angel?”

You nodded once and he slowly began to smile and he was able to somehow reach his hand up to where it touched your face. Even though it was calloused and cold, it was soft and had meaning to it. Relief was now finding him and it overcame him like a tsunami as he collapsed against you with his eyes slowly shutting. “You are going to be okay…you will pull through…”

The words echoed in his ears as his world once again went dark

Soon his mind came back to life as he woke up in a strange place where underneath him, he felt the softness for the first time in the years of his imprisonment. A heart monitor slowly beeped beside him as it showed his vitals were stable. Warmth of a comforter covered him, relieving him from the bitter cold as well as warm pillows that supported his head. As he looked down to his right arm, he could see more needles were piercing through his body. His mind quickly panicked as he shot up in bed trying to pull at the tubes.

“It’s okay…it’s okay…it’s okay”

You were by his side carefully placing your hands on his to stop his actions. “It’s just IV, it’s helping you with hydrating your body…I promise you it’s not taking anything out of you”

His eyes looked to you and back to the tubes and he could see the fluid entering his body. Coming to realize you were being truthful he settled down and released his hand from tubes and look up to you. “You have been out for quite awhile but I was able to take care of everything that they had done, you are a miracle to have survived for that long..it’s going to be awhile before you walk again but we are on the right path’”

He wasn’t sure how he was still alive, after the years of abuse, torture, and pain he should have been dead long ago, but somehow something kept him alive, but it seemed like death was a gift, he wished it had come to him sooner. “Why did you help me?”

“What?”

“Why did you help me? This doesn’t make sense”

The last thing he had ever thought would happen was to be released from his confinement and be actually meet someone who didn’t want anymore suffering or pain to come to him. It must be some strange dream that he didn’t seem to be waking up from and he was back in that dark room, suffering every day like he had been for so long.

“Cause I am not like what other people are, I had a vision and I sensed something was wrong and I saw you, something didn’t seem right to me….I had to know what was going on….something told me to do what I had to do…when I saw you coming out of that room, I only had wished that I had been there sooner if I had only that privilege then to be able to come down and free you”

“What are you talking about?”

His confused face showed it all, what did you mean to come down? You sighed softly and pushed back your jacket he had seen you wearing when he saw you and saw beautiful white angel wings spread out from behind your back. They were as white as white can be and the feathers looked as soft as clouds as they gently flapped behind you. “You see….when I said I am an angel, I literally meant that…I am a guardian angel and I was sent to liberate you and to heal you. Each one of us is given someone who is at their greatest pain and suffer and we are sent to relieve, to nurture, and to heal those who we are not meant to be in the state that they are in, I’m your guardian angel, Leonardo”

He was taken back at the words as you knelt to him and gently took his hands into yours. “Warmth, love, joy, you had everything good taken away from you and those monsters were the ones that took it. Leonardo, not a moment went by since I saw you that I had wish I had known you existed before so you wouldn’t have had to gone through everything you were put through….I will make sure that they won’t take you again and I am here to stay, if you wish me to be”

“But I don’t want you to get hurt, not for defending me, that’s not right…”

His hands released from hers as he turned his head away, she was risking her own self to be putting herself in danger to protect him. To him it wasn’t right for her to be doing this, not for someone like him.

She smiled and climbed up closer to him and took his hand again which made him turn back to her. “Whether if it is right or wrong…I am your angel, if you want me to stay, I shall stay but if not, I will go”

His mind was silent as he let everything settle on what was happening, someone like him has an angel that would keep him safe from harm has been sent to him. As much as he adores and forever thankful that she risked herself to save him, he didn’t want her being hurt by the monsters who had done what they had did to him, to her. But looking at her she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and he was lost at the beauty that she had. Her eyes were as bright as crystals, her hair soft as silk, her wings beautiful as her. Her gentle smile never faltered as she waited for him to speak.

“As much as I don’t want you to be hurt, I want you to stay….I owe you so much for everything that you did for me..”

“No need to pay me back…being able to be your guardian is the greatest gift that I can ever receive, I shall then stay and from now on we will always be together” Your smile widened as his slowly lifted, tears bubbling in his eyes. He had finally found what he had been waiting for all this time and it was here and now.

The tears landed gently on your hand as pulled him into a gentle hug. He was tense at first till he relaxed and buried his head into the crook of your neck, keeping you locked in the embrace. Your wings gently hiding him from harm into another soft embrace. It was his first time feeling pure love, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last as he held you. it would be a long road ahead of them both for a chance of peace, healing and love, but this was first step taken towards recovery.

[weartirondad]

Sometimes Home Is A Mess

Prompt: “Please don’t leave me, I can’t do this without you.”“(With bby Peter and Tony) The Avengers are paroned from the according and return to the tower but haven't really asked for forgiveness. Baby Peter remembers days his dad returning with a limp and dent heart. Peter being a little genius connect the dots is now clinging to his father he felt he could have lost. Seeing the avengers gives no only Tony anxiety but to Peter as well. He scream and cries when he's so much a inch away from his farther heart. begging him not to go or leave his side.” (Anon)

A/N: Set after You Made Me A Believer. You don’t hafta read it together but you could.  Also check out this amazing song Home - by Stefanie Heinzmann 

Summary:  When the Avengers break apart, Tony is tired and worn and broken but Peter is there and it helps. -- When the Avengers get pardoned a year later because the world decides they need their heroes back Tony is worn from the fights he fought to get them there and Peter is still there.

FF.net I ao3 

--

There’s a dull ache behind his temple when his fuzzy mind clambers back into consciousness and a throbbing pain sits right behind his sternum. The feeling of his chest split open and his every muscle battered and bruised is a distressingly familiar one and for the briefest of moments the air around him feels too humid and dirty.

He can taste the blood and the sweat and smells the burned flesh and metal. He hears the crunching of sand between his teeth when he moves his jaw. He sees red and feels cold.

He’s not there, though, he knows that. Knows it by the way his ribs are cracked in a meticulously designed half-oval and by the memories he can’t push away.

His near death experience years ago in that cave in Afghanistan feels small, manageable, compared to the new betrayal. The new incision cut open scar tissue he’s been trying his hardest to forget but it’s different this time, somehow, more personal.

A humorless laugh slips past his dry lips at the thought of something being more personal than what Obie did to him and soon after he starts coughing, wincing when each and every fiber of his body is cataloging more pain until he feels it’s all he is.

“Jar?”

The name is out before he can think better of it and when it is – warm and familiar and soothing on his tongue – the wrong voice replies, hesitant in a way JARVIS wouldn’t have been. But Jarvis is Vision now and doesn’t have to answer to him anymore – not like that at least. Just another soul slipping from his desperate fingers that are always searching for a meaning, closeness, a family.

“You seem agitated, boss. Do you want me to call for help?”

He wants to scoff at the notion but thinks better of it, eyes still closed, mouth still dry.

“No,” he croaks out eventually because he doesn’t want help – doesn’t deserve it either. If he has to keep living, he wants to do it like this – in darkness and alone. He wants to embrace the shadows that have been hovering at his doorstep for as long as he can remember.

Some famous dead guy once said ‘We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone.’ and that’s exactly what he wants to do. Somewhere without the hurt, the constant betrayal and disappointment. He just wants peace.

That's all he’s ever wanted.

It’s all he’ll never get.

When F.R.I.D.A.Y. stays quiet he feels tears burn in his eyes. JARVIS would’ve ignored his orders.

He’s close to drifting off again when a small commotion startles him awake – survival instinct kicking in, even in a tower better secured than Fort Knox he’s always alert, always expecting something to attack.

This particular assault, though, makes his heart lighter and his muscles relax for the first time since… since that bunker probably. Since that god forsaken video.

“Peter is here to see you, boss, he asks if you’re up.” The AI’s voice is fond and it eases the pain of missing his old friend. F.R.I.D.A.Y. and Peter are getting along. Peter loves the Irish voice and the way she’s coded. To him she’s family just like Vision is.

“Let him in.”

It’s only been a few months since that fatal shooting that lead him to the boy and his aunt but ever since then they have taken up such a huge part of his life that he can’t remember a time when he didn’t have a kid running through his living room, dropping pens and paper and Lego everywhere.

When Peter is there, every corner of the empty tower is filled with life and laughter and love. He drives the ghosts and memories away, replaces them with new ones – better ones, purer ones – without realizing what he’s doing.

The squirt comes barreling into the room, arms clutching a lime green notebook to his chest, eyes twinkling and lips moving with rambles Tony’s dazed mind doesn’t quite catch.

He is young. He is life. He is hope.

He is everything Tony isn’t.                                                          

But then he stops and takes him in and his mouth slams shut, the audible click of his teeth like a gunshot in the sterile room. The smile in his eyes drains like a plug being pulled and there’s something wary in them now – a mind trapped in a memory – and there’s fear and hesitation.

“Tony?” he asks, voice eons away from the happy one he craves to hear. “Wha – What happened?”

Peter doesn’t drop the notebook like Tony might have. Instead he clutches it more tightly to his chest when he slowly steps closer to the bed, entire posture guarded and tense, ready to bolt at any second but not really wanting to.

“I,” he sighs because he hates lying and then tries not to wince which goes less than successful, “I got into a fight,” is what he settles on but he can see by the frown forming on Peter’s forehead that he’s suspicious. “You know how the super hero life goes – criminals don’t like being stopped.”

It’s a pathetic attempt at a joke and he knows that even with six years Peter can see right through his façade. Damn this kid and his emotional intelligence.

“Normal criminals don’t get that close,” he retorts quietly and then adds, voice dropping: “Pepper said you went out to help Captain America.”

Ah. Well, that’s just unfortunate.

“I did.”

“He hurt you.”

“Maybe I hurt him too.”

That makes the boy pause and look down, gaze stopping on his bruised hand that is connected to an IV stand next to his bed. Somehow, when he looks up again he looks older.

“Mister Vision had to fly out to get you back. If Captain America was that hurt he would’ve brought him back, too.”

Tony hates the matter of fact way he says it and the distrust that swings in his voice when speaking about one of his child hood heroes. He wants to take it all away but he finds that he’s too worn to lie, too tired to comfort, so he does what he does best and deflects.

“I thought you didn’t like hospitals.”

Peter shrugs like it’s not a big deal but his knuckles are turning white with the force he uses to clutch his notebook and when he mumbles a reply he doesn’t meet his eyes, “’S not a real hospital. ‘S like home. I was –“ He breaks off blushing and voice small when he finally looks at him again, “Are you okay?”

A small smile graces Tony’s lips and, to his utmost surprise, it doesn’t feel fake. He likes it when Peter calls the tower home. It feels like a spark of hope that it might be one again one day.

“I’m better now that I’ve got my favorite person in the whole world around to blow kisses on my booboos,” he grins and scoots over to make room on his bed for Peter.

It’s what they usually do when he gets back from a mission and is resting on the couch or his bed and Peter doesn’t waste another second to comply, jumping up and nestling into his side like a cat like he always does.

Like clockwork Tony’s arm winds around the boy’s back despite the pain the movement elicits and Peter leans forward to receive the usual kiss to the top of his head. When he leans back to scrutinize Tony his nose is adorably scrunched up and he looks slightly indignant. “Y’ know, booboo is a baby word and I’m a big boy.”

“Oh, you’re a big boy now, are you?” The offended puppy eyes melt away the last of the Siberian ice and he yields to the little boy. “Okay, okay. You’re a big boy,” he acquiesces, “So what kind of big boy stuff have you been up to while I was gone?”

Peter jumps right into it, pulling up his notebook and showing him how he has been practicing writing cursive. It became a thing just before Peter started school in summer that Tony would start to teach him the art of cursive writing. The moment he saw May’s awful handwriting for the first time he knew he couldn’t let the poor boy learn on that alone, so he took it upon himself to coach him on the intricacies of it.

Despite popular belief he actually loved writing things by hand and he had a good handwriting – it was just impractical most of the time and when did he ever do things for fun?  

The kid is still flicking through his book looking for a particular page when Tony startles both of them with a laugh.

“Did you,” he snorts and blinks away the moisture in his eyes that he’s not sure comes from the pain or the laughter, “Did you really write my name on there? C’mere, show me that!”

The hand not holding Peter in place tugs the book out of his hands and flicks to the side where he had painted a big Iron Man helmet and had written his superhero’s persona’s name next to it for Peter to practice writing the capital I. Peter, being Peter, though had decided to defy him on all accounts and had written his name – Anthony Edward Stark – over and over until the page was full. Ending on a half- finished Anthony Edw –

The writing is shaky and awkward because some of the letters they haven’t even practiced yet but all of them are correct and in that moment Tony loves Peter more than he could ever put into words, more than he ever thought he could love someone and he laughs again and this time he knows the tears are from both the pain of what he’s lost and from the bliss – the future – he’s holding in his arms.

“You think you’re being really funny, don’t ya?”

Peter scoffs and sticks his tongue out at him. “I am funny.”

Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

“I really love you buddy, you know that?”

“’Course I do. You tell me all the time.”

 -.-

When the Avengers get pardoned a year later because the world decides they need their heroes back Tony is worn from the fights he fought to get them there.

He’s scared and anxious and angry but when he steps out into the penthouse Peter is sitting there – the picture of a content child – working on a LEGO set Tony is sure is above his age range and his inner storm calms when he approaches and sits down cross-legged next to him, watching him align the pieces carefully and with his tongue tucked between his teeth.

Maybe it’s selfish to break him out of his concentration, maybe he should just let him be but he needs Peter’s strength right now, needs his smile to build up his own because he’s tired and he’s wary and he needs to be reminded what he’s doing all this for.

“Hey bud,” he greets him with a hair ruffle and presses a kiss to the top of his head, lingering an instant longer than he normally would to breathe in the familiar scent. It’s home and it’s safe and it’s wonderful.

“Whataya up to?”

Peter beams up at him and somehow it makes his heart lighter and heavier at the same time. “May got me an AT-AP Walker Set! Pepper promised to help me build it but Morgan was hungry and I think she pooped herself,” he sniffs as if thinking back to a truly awful memory and Tony can’t help the smile forming on his lips. “Do you wanna help, too?”

“I would love to,” he sighs dramatically and leans back against the couch, watching Peter with a lazy smile. When he’s here like this he can almost forget what comes after. “But I still got an important meeting in, uh, five minutes and just wanted to drop by to, uh, say hi.”

Almost.

Slowly Peter puts down the grey bricks he has been working on and eyes him critically. “You never come home early when you still have a meeting,” he notes, “Unless you’re not going to the meeting but I think Pepper’d be mad if it’s important.”

“Shush,” he rolls his eyes and reaches out again to ruffle his hair. A part of him just wants to hold his boy close and never let go but the bigger part doesn’t want to worry him and to keep him as far away from all of this as possible. Which might not be very far for long.

“I promise I’m going. I just wanted to see something cute before I spend the next few hours with all these boring old folks.”

“I’m not cute,” the squirt quips back and goes back to sorting his bricks, “Morgan is cute. I’m –“

“Yeah, you’re what, Petey? Adorable? Precious? As sweet as the marshmallow fluff that’s giving you cavity? Delightful, maybe? Or what about-“

Suddenly his mouth his covered by a small sweaty hand and he can see how Peter is trying to be serious but he’s failing to suppress a giggle. “I’m not cute.”

Seizing the opportunity he tackles the kid into a hug and holds him close, “Okay, whatever buddy,” he breathes into his hair, “You know I love you, right?”

Soft curls tickle his nose when Peter nods dutifully and he knows he has to leave soon, knows he’s already running late and he can’t be – not for this. But suddenly letting go is so much harder than just getting his muscles to release the small body. The conference room suddenly seems so much farther away than just two stories down, it feels like they’re worlds apart and he likes this one better.

“Steve Rogers is requesting entry to the penthouse,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts his musings and just like that he feels Peter freeze in his hold and look up at him, eyes wide and betrayed and scared.

“What’s he doing here?” he demands, “What does he want? Why’d you let him in? Wh –“ Then, suddenly, he stills and glares, pushing away from Tony’s grasp and crossing his arms in front of his chest in a way that looks less like defiance and more like he’s shielding himself.  

“He’s your meeting, isn’t he?” he all but spits out and it sounds like the ultimate betrayal. His voice is shaking with anger and his doe eyes, usually soft and loving, are as closed off as Tony has ever seen them.

He pushes himself up to sit on the couch instead of on the ground so they’re eye-level and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Without looking away from Peter, he raises his voice to talk to his AI.

“Tell him access denied and I’ll be with them in just a sec.”

“Them,” Peter narrows his eyes, “Who’s them?”

“The Avengers, Peter, I’m sure you’ve heard of them,” he retorts and immediately feels guilty when there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes. He sighs, head hanging, “Look, I’m sorry, Pete. I’m –“

Before he can decide on what to say, he’s being interrupted, something Peter rarely does and never when it’s important but the boy in front of him who dropped his arms and has his hands clenched to fists, shaking with fury isn’t the boy he usually deals with.

“Why are they here?”

“To talk.”

He wants to walk over to him and take him in his arms again to stop him from shaking like a leaf but he doesn’t want to tower over him, doesn’t want to crouch to be on his level either. This conversation is important and he knows he needs to stay put for now.

“The world needs the Avengers, Pete. We need them to protect the world. I need them to protect Morgan and – and to protect you. To protect my fa-“

“NO!” He all but screams and it has Tony mentally take a step back and stare when he’s stomping his foot and pulling his hair.

“No! No, no, no, no, no. NO!” he yells again, “I don’t need them! We – We don’t need them. We have you!” He scowls angrily. “You’re – You’re Iron Man! And they – I don’t trust them! I hate them! I want them to – I want them to go! Tell them to go away!”

Now, without trying to be braggadocios, Tony would say after helping raise Peter for almost two years and having a toddler of his own he has a pretty good grip on the whole parenting thing but – for fuck’s sake – he’s had it easy so far and never really had to deal with an actual tantrum before.

Sure, Morgan fusses and cries and wails like the world is ending sometimes but a four-month-old tantrum is much different from Peter having a meltdown in front of him. Peter, the most well behaved boy on the planet who rather screams into his pillow than at people and who, for reasons he tries not to dwell on, never ever pushes May or him away in fear of pushing too far and losing too much.

Peter is a good kid. Sometimes he’s angry, sometimes he’s sad and sometimes he has so many emotions he doesn’t know how to deal with that he shuts down but the last time Tony has seen him this helplessly angry was the night he found him in a dark alleyway bend over his uncle’s dead body.

The entirety of his small body seems to be filled with rage. He’s trembling with it, overflowing with fury and what looks like something that’s much too close to hatred for Tony to ever want to see it in his boy’s eyes ever again.

He remembers the first time he had to calm him down, remembers the blood and the pain and the harsh light of the streetlamps and he hates it. Hates the Rogues for making Peter feel that way again more than he hates them for leaving in the first place.

“Kiddo,” he murmurs and slides down from the couch, sitting cross legged and with open arms in front of the shaking kid. He doesn’t scoot closer even though he wants to and tries to beckon him towards him with his voice alone. “They won’t hurt you, I promise. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

“But they hurt you.” Peter hasn’t moved yet but his voice has dropped a few pitches and some of the anger is seeping out of his shoulder. Tony would only count it as a half-win, though, when it’s instantly replaced by sadness and fear. Those he knows how to deal with at least.

“I don’t want them to hurt you again,” he whispers, taking a timid step forward and letting Tony reach for his hands that are hanging listlessly by his side. He watches him uncurl them quietly and when he looks up to meet his gaze again there are tears running down his cheeks. “You have to take care,” he demands reverently and takes another step forward, dropping into Tony’s lap and throwing his arms around the older man’s neck.

“You have to take care and come back,” he presses into his collarbone, “You can’t – Please don’t leave me all alone. I only have May and you and I can’t do this without you. I can’t. You have to promise!”

Oh Peter.

Tony pulls the small boy impossibly closer, rubbing a hand over his back and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I promise I’ll always come back home to you, kiddo.”

And maybe that’s an unfair promise to make when he can’t ever be sure he’ll be able to keep it. Maybe lying makes him a bad parent. But right now he has his kid crying into his t-shirt and he’d do anything to make it better and so he promises himself that he’ll always do his best and fight his hardest to make sure he’ll always be there to make it better.

[itsroguelife]

Bellarke at Vormir AU

ONE SHOT TIME, WE HAVE BELARKE IN MARVEL, GOING TO VORMIR... WHAT WILL HAPPEN? WHO WILL MAKE THE SACRIFICE? Read this oneshot to find out.....

WAKANDA

"Bellamy?"

Bellamy turned to hear his sister's voice after he watched TChalla and Groot disappear into ash, he saw Octavia holding up her hand as it began to disintegrate.

"O?"

Bellamy ran as he caught her as she collapsed into his arms hugging him, "Bell- don't let me go! Please, I'm scared- Don't let go!" She pleaded terrified of the darkness.

He held onto her tears welling up in his eyes, "O- please..." As his pleads barely left his mouth Octavia Blake became non-existent in his arms...

TITAN

Clarke walked with the group towards the Guardian's ship, she was having issues with her side that was no longer bleeding thanks to Stark helping her but still it hurt like a bitch.

Madi was back near Peter talking to him about the fight, Clarke noticed her little crush on Stark's prodigy, it was kind of cute actually. She swears Stark is already planning their wedding.

Madi came up to her as she gave her a worried look, "you okay?"

Clarke caressed her cheek, "I'm okay," she smiled, "how's your head?"

Madi had gotten hit by Thanos, making Clarke freak out and hit him with a power blast, protective mother mode man.

"It's okay," she smiled, "it's not bad anymore, I'm thriving."

"Good girl."

Mantis looked up, "something's happening?"

They looked at her as suddenly she disappeared into dust.

Everyone jumped back expecting this as Clarke grabbed onto Madi's arm.

"Quill?"

Drax was next as he became dust.

"C-Clarke what is happening?" Madi asked.

Clarke shook her head, "T-Thanos-"

"Steady Quill," Tony tried.

"Oh man."

Just like that he disappeared too.

"Stark," Clarke called as the man looked at her, she shook her head scared for herself and more importantly Madi.

"C-Clarke?"

She turned as she saw Madi's left arm start to turn to dust.

"NO!"

She reached for her child as she turned to dust at her finger tips.

She froze as she felt her knees collapse under her feet.

Madi...

No...

Not her...

Not her...

Why couldn't it have been me?

5 YEARS LATER

Clarke pulled her hair back in a pony tail as she sat on the counter taking a drink of her whiskey, she took a deep breath feeling sad again. It's been 5 years but her hearts still shattered.

She lives at the Avengers Compound with Natasha, it's better than being alone...

"You okay?"

She closed her eyes feeling annoyed, "I don't need a therapy session Steve."

Steve just leaned against the door frame, "I'm not here as a therapist I'm here as a friend."

"Well your friend is busy."

"Busy drinking?"

She just gave him a look as he smiled, "don't become Bellamy, please, I know who you are, you would never waste your life. You are a hero, Clarke."

"A failure you mean."

"Don't say that, we couldn't stop him, but that doesn't mean we can't move on."

"Move on?!" Clarke suddenly threw the whiskey at the wall as Steve frowned, she put her head in her hands.

"Clarke..."

"Look I'm sorry alright?" She whispered not looking up, "it's just... It doesn't feel like it's been five years since Thanos did what he did. It's like I'm watching the world slowly go back to the way it was but I'm just stuck... I lost everything that day, my friends... My daughter. I lost and I'm still lost. How am I supposed to move on? How are we supposed to move on? After so many people are gone because of our failure?"

"It's hard," Steve told her as tears fell, "but we have to find a way to move on, I tell that to the group everyday so yes it's a force of habit but I know we can. We lost, yes, but we are still here. The world is in our hands."

Clarke closed her eyes.

"I just wish we could go back..."

"Let me get this straight," Bellamy began after they explained the idea of time travel to him, "you're telling me that you all want to go back in time before the snap and bring them all back?"

They all stared at him as he became angry, he had been getting drunk none stop since the Snap so he was very much drunk, "you expect me to believe this shit?!"

Raven looked at him, "Scott thinks there's a way too-"

"To what?" He hissed, "bring back billions and billions of dead people? You are all insane!"

Steve stepped up, "son, you need to listen to us-"

He hit his hand off his shoulder, "do not call me son, I'm not your son so stop acting like a concerned father Everytime you see me! I lost my sister and Ive accepted i can't bring her back!"

"By drinking all the time?" Raven asked.

"I don't expect you to understand Raven, you didn't lose your other half!"

Raven looked down as she looked at Nat who sat quietly.

"Bellamy," Clarke walked in, it had taken her a minute as well to believe but now she does, "we can't let Thanos get away with this, we can bring Octavia back, we can bring Madi back," a hopeful smile spread on her lips.

Bellamy breathed heavily, "Clarke..." He hadn't seen her in almost a year, it was strange seeing her again, her hair was longer a little under her shoulders, she looked good all things considered.

"I... I can't, no, no, I won't put my hope in something impossible. I can't have that pain hit me, I wouldn't survive it."

With that Bellamy walked out as they all sighed.

"He'll come around," Natasha spoke, "with Tony on board, we can do this and he'll see that there is hope."

Clarke nodded, hope... Yes, that's what she needs. Hope to get everyone back. To give Madi her future. That's all that matters.

Whatever it takes.

"So all we have to do is go back and get the stones before Thanos gets them," Scott recapped as they stood in the time travel suits on the Quantum Tunnel.

"Is that all?" Clarke asked chuckling nervously.

"No time for humor," Steve says, "we all have our missions, get the stones and bring them back, we are all going to a place we may know but doesn't mean we should expect what is coming. We all have our missions, get it done."

"He's pretty good at that."

"Right?"

Raven and Natasha was hanging back as the others were on this Time Heist.

Clarke's helmet turned on as she felt the Quantum Tunnel swallow her as well as her team!

They traveled to their each targets as Clarke and Bellamy traveled to 2014 with Nebula and Rhodey.

"Be safe," Rhodey tells Clarke as he engulfed the girl he cared about in a hug.

"You too, Rhodey," Clarke smiled.

Bellamy gave Nebula a half hug as she had really helped him along the way of losing his sister, "come back safely."

"You too," Nebula said as she nodded.

"Watch eachothers six!"

Clarke and Bellamy smiled at their friend as they always watched eachothers backs, she placed a hand on his shoulder smiling at Bellamy as they got into the ship.

They sat in the flyers seats watching as space went by, Clarke smiled in wonder as Bellamy looked at her admiring her, "we are far from the drop ship, Princess."

Clarke and Bellamy arrived on Vormir, it was a beautiful but eerie place, a place that Clarke would never want to stay on- it seemed like death and she didn't want to be forever surrounded in that.

They climbed the mountain getting tired as they reached the top.

"I bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain," Bellamy groaned.

Clarke laughed, "yeah well, they always give us the /fun/ adventures."

"Welcome," suddenly they both got in stance against the person who spoke, "Clarke daughter of Jake."

Clarke stiffened at the mention of her father.

"Bellamy son of Markus."

Bellamy shifted at the mention of his father he only knew as his biological father after his death.

"Who are you?" Bellamy ordered for answers.

"I am like you," Red Skull told them, "I am someone who also seeked the stones but i wasn't worthy and they left me as someone who only gave others safe passage to the stones."

Bellamy glanced at Clarke who was also confused, "we didn't ask for a history lesson, red face."

"Where's the Soul Stone?" Clarke asked cutting to the chase eager to get Madi back.

"It is here."

Red Skull led them to a cliff edge.

"Its down there?" Bellamy asked.

"What lies infront of you is what you seek but also what you fear," Red Skull told them, "to get the Stone requires eternal sacrifice- a soul," Bellamy and Clarke looked at eachother, "for a soul."

"I dont understand," Clarke spoke as she turned, "how do we get the Soul Stone?"

"And actually explain it please," Bellamy told him.

"To get the Soul Stone you must lose what you love," Red Skull told them, "it demands a sacrifice, a soul for a soul, eternal sacrifice..."

Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake both realized what he had meant as they felt their stomachs fall.

Clarke sat in denial her mind thinking about what had to be done and Bellamy was in denial trying to annoy Red skull.

"Hello!" He waved at him chuckling, "haha, fucking bullshit," he shook his head as he looked at Clarke, "this is bullshit, he's hiding the stone, this has to be a trick."

Clarke shook her head, "I don't think so..."

"Why?" Bellamy questioned, "Clarke, this isnt a sacrifice situation, we have to fight for this. This is our stand."

"No," she stood, "Thanos came here with Gamora, he left without her and with the Soul Stone! How do you think he got it!"

Bellamy stood their wordless.

"Eternal sacrifice," Clarke repeated, "a soul for a soul."

Bellamy took a heavy breath, looking down, he remembered his sister, "my sister, my responsibility... Whatever it takes."

Clarke smiled sadly, "whatever it takes."

Bellamy met Clarke's eyes, "Clarke... I have to tell you something," he took a deep breath deciding to admit what he had hid for so long, soon his time will come to an end for his sister, "I-"

"I love you," Clarke spoke first her heart pounding out of her chest, "I know... I should have told you so many times but now- now it's too late, I can't die before I tell you-"

He cut off her rambling by pulling her into a kiss, his arm around her waist as she touched his face kissing him back.

"I love you too," Bellamy told her a smile on his face as Clarke rested her forehead to his, "but i won't let you die for me, Clarke, you don't deserve that, you deserve a future with Madi."

Clarke shook her head, "Bellamy no, no," she grabbed his arm, "I won't let you do that! You need to live your life and be happy! I have done too many bad things to live on, let me do this, let Wanheda become the sacrifice."

"Clarke," Bellamy shook his head touching her face pulling her closer, "you judge yourself too harshly, i see the real you, you are so beautiful inside and out, you make a better man because I want to better for you! I can't let you die for me, not after all the times I left you. Clarke, you are my family, my life, and my love, I won't let you die."

Clarke felt tears fall as she kissed him crying as she did so.

He wiped her tears as she kissed back, "I love you," he told her.

"I love you too," Clarke cried, damn you, Blake," she slapped his chest not that hard, "you win... You win."

Bellamy smiled tears falling as he kissed her cheek lovingly. He turned towards the cliff taking a deep breath.

Suddenly Clarke shock lashed him making him fall!

"I'm sorry, I lost everyone else I've loved, I won't let you die too."

Clarke told him as she took a running start all of a sudden Bellamy got up as he shot a blast as her feet making her fall to the side!

Bellamy got up, "it's okay, Princess, our time is up."

He started to run as Clarke watched him in fear, his eyes locked with hers as he jumped off the Cliff!

Clarke suddenly jumped off the Cliff as she grabbed onto Bellamy!

They both fell as Bellamy hit the wire on his belt to catch them!

His hand grasped Clarke's as he held her as tightly as he could!

"No!" Bellamy tried to pull on the wire, "no! This isnt- no!"

"Bellamy..." Clarke whispered, she felt tears fall as she locked eyes with him, "I love you."

"Please no... Clarke please! I need you! The heart and the head!"

"The heart and the head," Clarke smiled sadly.

She suddenly kicked the Cliff pushing her body back as her hand fell from Bellamy's as he screamed for her!

She felt herself falling as Bellamy screamed as loudly as he could at the top of his lungs.

Clarke hit the ground as her body broke under the fall- dying slowly from blood loss and her soul fell into a darkness...

Bellamy cried as he couldn't tear his eyes off of his soulmate as he cried as suddenly a white light engulfed him!

Bellamy woke up in water as he sat up, his mind a fuzz as he looked at his hand that something glowing in it, he opened seeing the soul stone!

Tears fell, as Bellamy clutched it to his chest close to his heart crying as he screwed his eyes shut his mind all over the place...

The Time Heist came back to present as Bellamy stood there soaked in water and depression washed over him, his partner no longer by his side which was quickly noticed by the others.

"Bellamy," Rhodey realized, "where's Clarke?"

Bellamy couldn't look at them as his hand gripped the soul stone...

Everyone fell silent knowing what happened...

Clarke Griffin had sacrificed herself.

The Commander of Death had fallen.

Whatever it takes indeed.

//If anyone wants a part twooo let me know

[wander-yet-wonder]

‘Portrait of a Young Man’

Historical Transtalia fic Characters: Aph England, Aph America

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884995

Pairings: None Rating: All Audiences Warnings: Historical transphobia Summary:  The portrait of the nation gets taken to adorn the halls of the royal palace. The way one is portrayed however begs questions of identity and self image to become pressed to the surface for all to scrutinize. Minerva, can't stomach her portrait and would rather be portrayed as 'Arthur'. What is the empire built on? What should it be represented as? Setting: 1780's post americam revolution but during the colonial era.

The Grecian helmet sat heavy on Minerva's head and she shivered. The almost see-through peplos she'd been put in didn't provide her any shelter from the wind that seemed to have little to no regard for the walls of the royal academy, better equipped at evoking the classical past than at keeping out the cold. She was almost grateful for the dead lion draped at her feet meant to be a live one in the portrait that was currently being taken of her because if she shuffled her feet underneath it at least she could feel a bit warmer.

After what seemed like an eternity she was allowed to move. And immediately wrapped a shawl around her shoulders to inspect the work done. It was even worse than she feared. Doe eyed she stared over the sea and the deplorable wretch had drawn her with the peplos slipping of her shoulders to expose her breasts. Tell-tale storm clouds passed over her face. The painter winced because she was known to be tempestuous. "What is that." She pointed to the exposed bosom. It didn't sound like a question. "I emphasized you as a nurturing mother, kind and gentle to all her colonies." "This is wrong." "Pardon?" "This is wrong! This!? This is not your country!" She's shouting in a most unbecoming way.

The poor painter protests: "but I worked for hours- this is some of my best-" "I don't care if you're sir Joshua Reynolds himself! We're having a do-over. AND YOU DO AS I COMMAND!" He nods afraid his painting might end up smashed over his head if he pressed on. "Everyone get out I need to think" The man gathers his canvas and painting and scurries out, gesturing at his assistents and fellow societymen to follow, leaving his nation breathing loudly through flared nostrils with balled fists alone in the room.

The next day a small company is gathered at Kenwood house in Hampstead where Britain is currently resident. There’s excited murmuring in the crowd, gossip spreads fast and the spat over the painting is being readily discussed. No one really knows what is to be expected now. When the nation joins their guests in the drawing room however scandalized gasps are elicited from the crowd. They all had expected something but none of them had expected this. “Please, company, join me in the garden where I’ll have my portrait taken.” The murmurs are being uttered unceasingly and everyone is too stupefied to be truly angry or disobey the firm orders Britain administers. In the garden their favourite horse is prepared for them and Britain mounts it and steadies the animal with a loving touch. Finally, the nation turns towards the still murmuring crowd. A stern but calm smile plays on their lips as they speak: “You act like this is an unfamiliar sight. Surely you’ve seen a man in uniform before.” The sumptuous red uniform is of the highest rank and adorned with the silver star, Britain’s long hair is all but hidden under a tricorn hat and here on their horse they command respect and obedience. “This is how the empire was built, so this is how it should be portrayed.” No one in the crowd reacts. “I said that this is how it should be portrayed!” Hurried the painter realizes that this is his cue and sets up the easel. Everyone watches breathless at the portrait being taken and let their tea grow cold and their sandwiched remain untouched.

Everyone has left and the house had gone quiet. Arthur admires his portrait. He hasn’t changed out of his uniform and is alone in the room with the painting as the paint is drying still. He sits still and just stares. The uniform hides his already small chest perfectly. The hat hides his hair and there’s nothing that would insinuate he was not a man. He is not a mother.

“Are you my mother then? If you’re my mother why’re you not a sweet mum! Ollie down the street has a mum who kisses him and always gives him candy almonds.” Arthur sighs softly. That does tug at his heartstrings. Poor child. He takes little Alfred onto his knee. “Listen America, you’re a foundling. A child with only me for a parent. So, I asked myself- what does a child need to grow into a successful man? How do children who only have one parent prosper? Those who only have a doting mother never amount to anything. A man needs a father. A father who’s firm but who’ll guide you onto the right path, makes you work, makes something out of you. So, I wanted you to grow into a successful man, so that’s what I’ll have to be for you.” Alfred seems pensive but unhappy with the answer. “But you’re a woman, aren’t you?” Arthur pauses and grows rigid. “I suppose.” The child folds his arms. “I hate this. I wish I had a mom who gave me candy and kisses my cheeks but instead I have you who makes me learn French verbs.” Arthur feels hurt. Of course, he can’t be a father that Alfred would love. He’s not a mother, but not a father either. He slightly slaps Alfred’s wrist “I should’ve known that this is just about you not wanting to do your exercises!”

Arthur looks at his portrait and smiles. America never fully understood. He’d fought him in uniform. Chastising, but he could never make him behave. He was never father enough for Alfred. Alfred seemed to always have kept on wishing he would be his mother instead. The revolution had been a blow to his confidence, but when he looks at the portrait, he no longer feels that. He feels strong. A man, a ruler, an empire. Someone who commands respect. He still has the other territories overseas, he’s bigger than he’s ever been! On this man the sun never sets. For once he sees himself. Alfred should see this portrait, he'd understand if he'd see this. He wouldn't come back but he'd understand.

The next few days he goes around his house still dressed as a gentleman. He writes his letters with newfound vigour and finds that he’s for once actually listened to. The portrait is picked up, after all it was meant to adorn the palace and will there soon be unveiled. The night of the banquet where he’ll meet with king George IV and the portrait will be donated to the royal collection approaches. Arthur is met with the royal chamberlain who seems put of the moment he enters the house. After the first formalities regarding the banquet are exchanged it becomes apparent why. “Lady Britain, while I have no doubts about your sense of decorum I must still enquire. You don’t intend to keep up this masquerade at the banquet? It would be most improper to appear before the king with your legs for all to see.” Arthur doesn’t fight back too much. He’s very much aware of decorum and complies. “I’ll wear a smart skirt.” It doesn’t matter, the portrait will speak for him.

The banquet is one like Arthur has had many before. He wears something black and modest, not to look like he’s in too frivolous a lady’s skirt. Still he’s anticipating seeing his portrait, the way he truly is, being unveiled and adorning the palace halls. His heart is beating when people flood into the hall for the grand moment. The moment he sees the veiled canvas Arthur’s heart stops. Those are not the dimensions of his painting. Did they cut it to make it fit the hall better? He hopes in vain because a fear is wrapping its clammy hands around his heart. He stands motionless and the words of the speech are just a vague buzzing in his ears. When the curtain drops, he feels like a musket has been driven through his stomach. The doe eyed abomination, with the exposed breasts, meekly holding onto a shield and spear as though caressing them rather than fighting with them. The most alive thing in the painting seems to be the lion that was very much dead when being painted. The nobles exclaim perfectly appropriate adoring cries. Arthur says nothing, he’s afraid that if he opens his mouth, he’ll lose the roast lamb they are earlier. “Oh! Lady Minerva, you look absolutely lovely. Such a striking portrait.” He remembers decorum with a start and replies with polite gratitude. “Why see! I told my friend Lord Salisbury that underneath that sour demeanour you have the potential to be lovely. Truly Minerva, why don’t you grace us with that smile more often?” Arthur feels himself slip away, like his identity is being pried from his hands. When he smiles back, he’s no longer Arthur. Lady Minerva blushes and shows she has the potential to be lovely. She makes perfect company until the very end of the night.

When all the officials and nobles have left, she finds the steward, fuming absolutely fuming. She clutches his lapels and slams him against the wall. “Where is my portrait!?” She demands to know. “The thing you sent in? It was an affront. Be happy the painter was kind enough to provide us with this one as well so scandal could be avoided.” “Where is it!?” The steward gives her a look and she knows there and then that she’ll never see it again. With shaking hands, she lets him go and steps back. The steward seems a little surprised, he was convinced he’d be at the mercy of one of the Nation’s infamous outbursts. He hadn’t been expected to be let go without her digging her nails into his flesh like she’d done before. Yet here she stands silent and defeated. A demure and weary woman when she turns and leaves in silence. Minerva is silent all the way home. She’s been robbed of something so infinitely important. Not just the portrait. Being Arthur feels far away. Like he’s no longer hers to be. She lays onto her pillow and weeps.

Notes:

This piece was written out of a desire to write a transtalia fic that's not so damn anachronistic. I didn't want to paste the modern trans experience onto a historical period because often one can't do that. Associations with gender and different gender identities and categories have differed profusely trough the era. Writing the personification of a nation that's over 1000 years old as trans is really difficult. Their relationship with gender will have changed multiple times throughout their life as societies attitudes changed. Their age will also have influenced the posibilities for expressing gender identity and expression in general was far more limited. (without them placing themselves outside or on the margins of society by doing so). Arthur is a man, and has always felt more masculine. He can't live that life though and must live as Minerva.

if this had been a human in the 18th century it's more likely that he would've rebelled harder (especially given Arthur's hot headed and volatile personality!) and moved out to a little town house to live as a man. Arthur however, being the personification of England finds himself in the situation that his life is not his own. His position is highly symbolic and limits what he can do. It is in a way similar to kingship and the king being more than an individual human but also being this immortal and symbolic category. Unfortunately it'll take a while before Arthur is free enough to be himself.

This wasn't the fic I thought I'd be writing next but it basically wrote itself. I hope others felt the same need for it's existence.

[writing-in-the-impala]

You Always Hurt The Ones You Love (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

AU: Professor!Bucky Barnes/ Teacher!Bucky Barnes

Series Summary: You fall for your smoking hot literature professor Bucky Barnes (quite literally) what follows you never predicted would happen.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship (but like it’s all legal chill) and mentions of PTSD because it’s Bucky, SLOWburn we’re in for a long ride

Word Count: 2793

A/N:  Please leave me love and reblog this so i get inspired to write more, okay thanks 

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | Part 1,  Part 2,  Part 3,  Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

The whole weekend you spent all your free time with Bucky, you spent most of your time lounging about and relaxing by watching movies cuddled up together, reading books on his balcony cuddled up, and cooking together. The two of you barely left each others sides and when you did it wasn't for long. "I'm going to have to leave a bit earlier today." You started and Bucky pouted his lips making himself look like a sad puppy. "I'm sorry I'd love to stay but I actually need to do some work Steve set me and I promised Peter I'll come round to plan a family vacation." You explained and Bucky's expression didn't change.

"I don't want you to leave." He said pecking your forehead.

"I don't want to leave especially because the next time I'll see you will be at school." You said pouting and Bucky sighed.

"How am I meant to teach a class with you right there and how am I meant to act professional." He said and you gave him a sad smile.

"That's something we'll need to figure out if we want us to work without loosing our job slash education." You said and Bucky nodded you could see he was thinking.

"What are you doing tomorrow after school?" He asked.

"Probably whatever work you set me." You replied.

"Do you want to come over? I'll make dinner, you can study here I'll try not to be a distraction." He said winking at the last part.

"I don't know..." You began knowing that you wouldn't do any studying around him.

"Come on, who can help you with your work more than me?" Bucky asked.

"Steve." You said in a sassy tone to annoy Bucky. His mouth fell open to resemble a massive O and he just sat there shaking his head. You sat up so you weren't leaning on him pushed his jaw back up so his mouth was closed and kissed him.

"You know what maybe date Steve instead." Bucky said playfully and you rolled your eyes.

"Okay I'll see you on Monday then I'm going over to Steve's." You said standing up and Bucky stood up and hugged you from behind kissing your neck all the way up to your ear before whispering. "You're not going anywhere." And spinning you round to kiss you properly.

"Mmm, Bucky I'd love to stay but I genuinely have to leave." You said breaking the kiss apart.

"I'll miss you." He said.

"I'll miss you too see you tomorrow." You said giving him a hug and kissing him before you left. You went straight to visit Peter and May and spend some time with them, you learnt that Tony was down in Washington for business for a week, Peter told you all about school and he also questioned you about the man in your Snapchats and what house you've been at all weekend, you told him nothing avoiding his questions. When you got home you got even more questions from your roommates but you simply replied. "I'm too tired it's a long story." And went to your room to finish the work Steve set you.

Monday felt like it was taking forever, for all of Bucky's lesson you were just waiting for it to end, it seemed like Bucky was doing the same because he even ended the lesson early. You didn't speak to him after the lesson but received a text from him saying "7 at mine for food + study? Sound good?" And you replied with a simple. "Yes."

Bucky didn't lie when he said he won't distract you. You came over set up on his kitchen island while he was in the kitchen cooking that let the two of you talk but also focus individually. "So basically I'm meant to analyse how Fitzgerald uses the light as a character?" You said referring to the book Bucky set to analyse.

"Yeah so write about how it's used as a metaphor for Gatsby's love, how it disappears when Gatsby is with Daisy and stuff like that." Bucky explained without even turning around.

"Oh right okay thanks." You said before continuing to write but then your phone began to ring. You looked at the caller ID and it was a number you didn't recognise. "Hello?" You answered and Bucky turned around giving you a puzzled look as if asking who was calling and you shrugged. "This is New York General Hospital I'm calling because you're listed as Mr Parker's emergency contact."  The lady over the phone said and your face dropped.

"Is he okay?" You said your voice shaking Bucky turned off the cooker and walked around the counter wrapping his arms around you while the caller explained to you what happened to Peter, Bucky didn't know what's going on but he could hear the fear in your voice and pain in your face so he did his best to comfort you.  "Okay thank you I'll be there as soon as possible." You said ending the call.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked you as your tried not to cry.

"Peter he was in an accident something happened at school he was in a trip he tried to help his friends and he got them out but he got injured and now he's in hospital, I'm sorry Bucky I need to go." You said standing up and gathering your things.

"Leave your stuff, just take your jacket come on I'll get you there quickly." Bucky said going to grab his keys.

"You have a car? Why is this the first time I hear of this?" You said distracted.

"Better." He said holding up a bike helmet. "Catch." He said throwing it to you.

"You know if I wasn't stressed I'd be so impressed right now, I love bikes." You said following him out the apartment.  You ride to the hospital in Bucky's bike and got there quite quickly definitely faster than if you took the subway, Bucky looked amazing in his leather jacket driving the most amazing bike.  When you got to the hospital you went inside and Bucky said he'd follow you in after he locks the bike up. You walked up to the desk, your heart beating out of your chest the nerves building. "How may I help you?" The receptionist asked.

"Um, my brother, I'm his emergency contact, I-" You began to explain before a phone rang.

"Please hold." The woman said and you just stood there not knowing what to do as she picked up the phone. "Sorry okay your brother yes?" She asked and just when you were about to speak someone pushed in front of you.

"My son needs to see a doctor right now." The woman who pushed in front of you said. "I'm sorry I'm currently serving this lady. The receptionist said pointing to your. "But you don't understand me son-" the other woman argued. "He has to wait-" "he can't wait-"

"Enough!" A loud voice broke through. Bucky was standing there behind the woman who was trying to cut in and went to wrap his arms around you after he broke up the argument. "Ma'am with all due respect your son isn't in critical condition while my girlfriend's brother is. Plus she was in line before you so may you let her talk to the receptionist. Thank you." Bucky said he sounded angry but also he wasn't raising his voice, he was also at the same time comforting you. "May I see you ID miss, and may I get the name of the patient you're looking for." The receptionist said.

"Yes of course it's Peter Parker." You said and the receptionist looked at your ID.

"You have a different surname to Mr Parker." The receptionist stated.

"Yes we have different fathers." You said panicking slightly that they won't let you see him.

"Well you are listed as one of his emergency contacts so there's no problems he's in room E13 it's on the second floor you can take the elevator at the end of that hall." She said pointing you in the right direction. You and Bucky basically ran to the elevator. In the elevator Bucky put his arms around you to comfort you he could sense how scared you are, honestly you were terrified of the state Peter is in you were terrified how bad his injuries were. "He's okay." Bucky whispered into you ear.

"I hope so." You replied as the elevator doors opened and Bucky let go off you taking your hand in his as you walked through the corridor to find Peter's room.

"Do you want me to go in with you or wait outside?" Bucky asked carefully not knowing where you are at in the relationship are you anywhere near ready to tell Peter about him?

"I need all the support I can get." You replied and Bucky squeezed your hand re-assuringly as you knocked on the door. "Come in." You heard Peter say and you sighed from relief at the sound of his voice, you opened the door to reveal Peter lying on the bed with a bandage around his head some plasters on his face and and  IV drip connected while he ate a chocolate pudding cup. "Peter you son of a bitch." You said walking in your reaction shocked both Peter and Bucky.

"No how are you? No are you okay? Really feeling the love sis." Peter said rolling his eyes.

"I was scared you were in a coma or something but your just sitting here eating pudding." You said laughing at your prior panic.

"I mean it's the better of the two." Peter said shrugging.

"Most definitely." You said hugging him. "Hey." You said as you pulled away. "Peter this is Bucky, my-" you began.

"Boy toy." Peter interupted.

"Hey!" You said annoyed while at the same time Bucky laughed and replied. "I prefer knight in shining armour but boy toy will do." He replied and Peter laughed.

"I like him, can we keep him." Peter replied and you laughed going over to Bucky and looking up at him.

"Hm I don't know Peter." You said before scruffing his hair and giving him a peck on the cheek. "He is cute and I have a soft spot for him I guess we can keep him." You said and Bucky smilled a great big adorable smile.

"Does this mean I get the approval of the protective little brother?" Bucky questioned taking a seat next to Peter's bed as did you.

"Hm yeah but you hurt her well I may not look it but I can kick your ass." Peter said protectively.

"Meaning he'll ask dad to do it." You said and Peter rolled his eyes making Bucky laugh once again. "Speaking of is he still out of town?"

"Yep."

"Is May coming to see you?"

"Yeah they called her like they called you, but apparently you were faster."

"We took the bike tis why." Bucky added.

"You have a motor bike!" Peters face lit up like he won a thousand bucks, the money not a thousand Bucky's although he seemed pretty happyto have one in his life. The three of you carried on casually talking, it was nice seeing Bucky and Peter interact they seemed to get along well and actually like each other which warmed your heart. "Peter Parker! Never scare me like that ever again." A voice came from the doorway, the three of you turned to look in that direction and saw May standing there looking flustered like she ran to the hospital, which she probably did.

"Hey why is everyone angry at me?" Peter said defensively.

"because we love you. Anyway, hi May, May this is Bucky, Bucky, May." You said introducing them.

"Lovely to finally meet you ma'am." Bucky said acting all grown up reminding you of him at work.

"likewise but I must ask who you are Y/N didn't mention a-" May began but Peter cut in with "Boy toy." Making Bucky laugh while you and May scolded him by saying "Peter!" In unison. May seemed to like Bucky, the four of you talked for a while, May had to leave for a bit to call Tony meanwhile Bucky and Peter made a bet about some stupid program that was on TV, Bucky lost to his disappointment and owed Peter a bag of gummy bears. "Okay I think we're gonna go soon." You said looking at the time.

"Okay, I'm just gonna have to go down to the vending machine real quick." Bucky replied.

"Wait? You're taking that seriously?" You said in disbelief.

"A bets a bet." Bucky shrugged.

"Yeah Y/N a bets a bet." Peter said in a cocky voice making everyone in the room laugh. "Oh Bucky?" Peter added as Bucky was about to leave.

"You're coming on the trip right?" Peter questioned.

"The trip?"

"The trip to Malaysia, Y/N and I have to bring plus ones and I thought..." Peter said instantly regretting starting this conversation when he saw the panic on your face.

"I forgot to ask you I'm sorry, I completely forgot. You don't have to come it's a stupid family thing." You said trying to discourage him.

"If your there I want to be there, we can talk more about this later, right now I've got some gummy bears to get." Bucky said kissing your forehead and leaving the room.

"Peter listen here no mention of Bucky to Tony, understand? Don't say the name around Tony." You said in all seriousness as May walked back into the room.

"Everything okay I saw Bucky leaving?" May asked.

"Yeah he's getting gummy bears for Peter, I was just telling Peter, don't say anything about Bucky to Tony. Please. Don't even mention his name." You said pleading.

"Okay, I understand he can be protective but he's not going to kill him." May said.

"I know, I, it's complicated, just I don't want him knowing I have a boyfriend."

"I promise I won't say anything." Peter said gently.

"Me too, but Tony is going to be here in a few minutes." May explained.

"What I thought he was out of town?" You panicked.

"He flew back because of Peter." May explained.

"Okay I need to find Bucky, if you ever need to mention Bucky call him Grant, because that's like his real name Bucky is a ncik name, so if you do mention Bucky to Tony call him Grant." You said trying to somehow save this situation. "I'm gonna go find Bucky and hide him- I mean Grant." You said before leaving the room. It didn't take long to find Bucky. "Bucky. Tony is here you need to hide."

"Wait why's Tony here?"

"I'll explain later now you need to hide or we're both dead."

"But Peter's gummy bears." Bucky said looking like a lost puppy.

"Are you kidding me? You're gonna lose your job over a stupid bet and gummy bears." You said and Bucky just looked at the pack of gummy bears.  "Give me those and follow me." You said taking the gummy bears off of him and pulling him into a room. "Okay put this on." You said giving him a lab coat and a doctors mask that you found in the room.

"How do I look?" Bucky said giving you a spin.

"Hot. But too much like you." You said thinking. "It's your hair." You said, then you proceeded to mess it up and restyle it to make it look very un-Bucky like. "Better." You said.

"I look like an idiot." He said looking in a mirror.

"But you don't look like professors Bucky Barnes."

"Mmm say that again." He said with a sly look.

"We don't have time for this Buck, you need to walk out this building without running into Tony, I'll go give Peter his stupid gummy bears and meet you outside." You explained and Bucky nodded. You walked towards Peter's hospital room, getting there in time to see Tony already sitting there talking to Peter. "Hi." You said walking in. "Peter, here's the gummy bears I owe you." You said throwing the gummy bears at Peter and hearing him say "ouch." In response. "Hey Tony, nice to see you back, I'd stay and talk but I really need to go."

"Are you sure she isn't actually my daughter?" Tony questioned picking up on how that sentence sounded very Tony Stark™️. Everyone laughed at Tony's comment and you quickly said your goodbyes before leaving to find Bucky who was sitting in his bike back in his normal outfit.

"Where's the doctors costume?" You questioned getting on the bike.

"Ditched it in a plant pot." Bucky said casually before speeding off.

Part 10 | More stuff I wrote

Tags (send me an ask or message and I’ll add you):@iconictaurus@whosmarisaaarw@grayxswan@sideeffectsofyou @alt-er-love-er-alt

[wolf-555-writer]

Still Breathing Part 2

Got a bit carried away writing this one, it has a little more words than I anticipated. Sorry not sorry ;). Hope you like it as much as I did writing! Also stay tuned for the final, last part...

Read part 1

Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 4,864

Grabbing the keys to your apartment door, you reach inside the pocket of your jeans. At the same time you feel your phone buzzing. Looking at the phone, curious who it might be, you easily unlock the door and go inside. A text from Alex Danvers. It reads:

Had fun tonight! Hope we can do that again soon :). X Alex

You smile extensively and feel a sudden flare of joy rushing through your body. Of course you also enjoyed the evening, but it didn't really go like you planned. You were almost there, almost. But then chickened out again. Admitting your feelings is definitely much harder than you thought it would be. You put the keys and the phone on the timber coffee table as you take off your jacket. The phone buzzes again. You quickly grab it from the table now next to you, since you had just thrown yourself on the couch to relax. It's another text from Alex.

So sorry, couldn't lie to her :( Hope you're not mad.

You look confused, because you have no idea what she's talking about. Not a second later you receive another text. This time it’s from the other Danvers. It's from Kara.

Saturday, dinner at my place. Hope you will be there! X Kara.

"Oh my god...", you grunt a little too loud while reading the text. In your right hand still holding the phone, you use your left hand to cover your closed eyes and sigh. Alex obviously told Kara you were back and that you just met up with her in some bar. You suspect she's going to give you some sort of welcome home party. With probably everybody there...

Or maybe you just need this little push from Kara. Because you have to admit, those 2 months back have been a little quiet and lonely. And of course you can't let her down. She was after all the one that saved your life two and a half years ago. But back then, you only knew her as Supergirl. 

///

[2 years and a couple of months ago]

Laying in your hospital bed, you look outside. It's raining. You listen to the battering sound the water drops make when they hit the glass. There are a couple of doctors standing in your room, discussing your chart with their interns. You hear them talk about you, about all the ugly injuries you have suffered, which you've already heard over a thousand times.

Okay, well maybe not a thousand times, but you get the point, it has become tiresome.

You've stopped listening to their discussions for some time now. A nurse stands beside the bed, giving you some medicine through the IV. Probably some pain medication, which you're luckily not that dependant on anymore.

"When the hell can I get out of here", you ponder.

Today is not your best day, as you got word of your discharge from the army. They didn't even give a valid reason. It had probably something to do with that 'Special Agent' that visited you some weeks ago here in the hospital. You start to reflect again, directing full attention to your brain.

"That secret organization she works for, they’re definitely the cause. They are without a doubt the reason I got fired. They better fix this."

Not letting it go, feeling your mind fill with rage. But you were also slightly disappointed, because you were probably never going to see that Agent again.

Now you don't have a job and will, without a doubt, receive a huge medical bill once you're out of the hospital. The nurse notices your rather irritated mood.

"Is there something I can do for you?", she asks nicely.

You almost burst out some sentence that's better not to be said out loud. But luckily you contain yourself, because after all, it's not her fault. You ask her when it's time for your daily rehabilitation. Something you always look forward to, despite the pain it often gives. You get the feeling you're at least getting a little bit better, step by step. Right about the time the nurse wants to answer the question, one of the doctors interrupts her with his loud, harsh voice and far too complicated words about your health situation. You become a bit angry, because this is not the first time it happens.

"Keep breathing, keep breathing", you repeat inside your head, trying to calm yourself down.

But it's not working. This guy always thinks he's better and above the nurses. And on top of everything, he treats them as unequals, as trash. The nurses definitely know you better as a patient and what you're in need of compared to any other doctor here in the hospital. Today you can't take it anymore, probably also due to your current mood. You put on your fiercest face and look him straight in the eyes, stone-cold.

"Enough", you declare. "I thinks it's better if you leave", you say with a particular dominance in your voice.

He looks confused and disturbed, a frown appears on his face. He's probably also a little bit intimidated by you. After all, you have been in the army.

"What do you m-".

You interrupt him and continue with a steady face: "You heard me. I want you to leave this room". You clearly hit a nerve there while he exits with the rest of the doctors and interns without saying a word back. When they’re completely gone, you chuckle.

"Didn't think that would work", you say with a wide grin.

The nurse, who also looks a bit puzzled, is still standing at the side of the bed.

"What...what did you just do?", she stumbles.

"I really can't stand the way he treats the nurses around here", you answer, relieved you could finally get that off your chest.

"Well, you're officially my new hero", the nurse states. "I will also leave you alone for now", she says with a broad smile. "I will be back later with some other medicine". 

The nurse left. You're now alone in your hospital room. Hearing the dripping sound of the antibiotics, falling from the fluid bag into the IV-line that enters your veins, you see that it stopped raining. Listening to some birds playfully chirping outside. A ray of sunlight shining through the window makes the bleak hospital floor gleam.

"Finally, some peace and quiet", you exhale, able to relax your breath at last.

You turn the TV on. It's the news channel and you see Supergirl appear on the screen, which causes a subtle smirk to appear on your face. She is kind of your hero, because you'll always be grateful to her for freeing you from the wreckage that day.

///

[Present day]

It's saturday morning. Well-, okay... Maybe it's not morning anymore.

Waking up from a restless sleep, looking up at the digital alarm clock. You roll your eyes and sigh, it's already 12:30. You drag yourself out of bed and hop into the shower, hoping a splash of cold water will wake you up.

Eating some breakfast at 1pm, you think about your plans later that day. Dinner at Kara's place. You're not really in the mood to go. Of course Alex will be there. But also... all the others. You start to ponder while taking a sip of your strong, hot coffee, desperately craving caffeine.

"What will they think of me... Leaving without saying goodbye to them. And then coming back, also avoiding to reach out".

You haven't eaten much of your breakfast because you're feeling a bit nauseous. You stare outside and listen quietly to the music you put on earlier. Gazing at the towering buildings you can see. Looking through your apartment window for several minutes you overcome yourself. Enough doubting. You grab your keys and jacket and start walking towards the front door.

"Time to go".

///

You stand in front of the door of Kara's apartment and can already hear familiar voices coming from the inside. Raising your hand hesitantly to knock on the door, you feel your heartbeat pounding inside your dry throat. It almost feels like your first day at the DEO. You feel a little panic surge. 

Of course you don't have to knock, as Kara already spotted you standing in front of the door, using her X-ray vision. You hear her speak cheerfully:

"I think there is someone at the door! I'll go check"

Before you even realize it the door is open and you see Kara standing there, quite enthusiastic. "Hi!", she calls. "I'm glad you came.", while giving you a very, very tight hug. In which you reply with:

"Wow, easy. I still want to breathe", barely able to speak these words.

"Sorry, I got a little bit carried away", she giggles. "Come in"

///

[2 years ago]

Walking confidently out of the DEO headquarter building, you think about your new job. A DEO Agent! You're pulled from your happy thought when suddenly thinking about your long-term stay in the hospital, where you just got discharged from.

"Damn, I got some training to do", you say to yourself as you grab the keys of your motorcycle.

"I don't want to look like a fool on my first day of work next week", now seated on your bike.

Before you can put the keys in the ignition you hear a voice calling your name.

"(Y/N)! Wait!".

You open the cap of your helmet and see Agent Danvers standing next to you.

"Hi-"

You're interrupted by Alex, who is currently very impressed by your vehicle.

"Didn't know you have a motorcycle", she says. Leaving her speechless and admiring your choice of transportation. Confused about the actual reason she is standing there, you ask, after taking off the helmet:

"Is there something wrong?".

"Wh-What was I saying again?", she stammers.

"My name...", you denote, lifting an eyebrow, looking questionable at Alex.

"Oh- Yes! You forgot your entrance pass. You'll need it when entering the building", she explains.

"Thanks. Guess I'll see you next week then", you state, trying to keep your cool. Before Alex can even turn around to walk back, you've already put on the helmet again and started the engine, smelling the raw gasoline scent. You close the helmet cap smoothly while driving away, enjoying this new milestone in your life.

///

Nervous about your first day working as a DEO agent, you open your locker. Inside you see a black uniform, combat boots and a firearm with holster.

Tying the shoelaces of the new shiny boots, you hear other people entering the locker room. Guess you were early. They look at you, noticing that you're new. One of the agents walks towards you.

"Welcome, I'm Agent Vasquez", the agent graciously introduces while standing in front of you, reaching out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Agent (Y/L/N)", you proudly express, really enjoying your new title.

Walking with the other agents to the main area for the daily briefing, you already see Director Henshaw expertly discussing with Alex. As you come to a halt, you observe Supergirl flying through the entrance, that leads to the balcony, and landing swiftly in front of you and the other agents. You flinch, startled but also impressed by finally seeing Supergirl in real life again. 

"Just in time, Supergirl", Director Henshaw firmly states.

"Now that you're all here, I would like you to meet our newest agent, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)", he affirms, pointing in your direction with the palm of his hand facing up. You quickly look up and notice all eyes are on you. You give a steel nod back, trying to cover up your nervousness.

"As it's your first day, I would like you to tag along with Agent Danvers", he adds, turning his head towards Alex, who's standing beside him in a confident pose, arms crossed behind her back. Of course you're happy to oblige.

Walking with Alex towards a large screen with a row of high-tech computers in front of it. The expensive computers are positioned in a half circle. On one of the two ends you see a person sitting in a chair, glued to the screen, who is not wearing a DEO uniform. He's in casual attire.

"This is Agent Schott", Alex announces, introducing him.

Pulling him out of his full concentration, working on something you do not understand, he quickly turns around and stands up to shake your hand.

"I'm Agent (Y/L/N)', you say to him while shaking his hand firmly.

"Pleasure. But you can just call me Winn", he friendly returns.

Opening his mouth to say something again, he rushes back to the computer as it starts to make an alarming sound.

"Wow, we've got alien activity. Some disturbance at an industrial plant", Winn states with a very serious tone in his voice, something that he didn't have earlier.

"Supergirl, you-".

Supergirl also heard it and has already left the building to fly to the location Winn hasn't even provided yet. Not knowing where and how he got this information, you have to believe him on his word, as Alex speaks to you:

"Let's go", while rushing to get the tactical gear. You follow her quickly, a little bit too excited about your first assignment.

///

Rappelling down with ropes from a helicopter you and some other DEO Agents were transported in, you arrive at some abandoned, shady factory.

"We've arrived at the location you gave us Winn", Alex discloses over the comms, finally standing on the ground with both feet.

You also safely landed on solid ground and easily detach yourself from the rope that is linked to the chopper. Gazing around at the deserted area, inhaling the fresh air, you think:

"Why does it always have to be places like this?"

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear a loud bang coming from inside of the shutdown factory. Jolting your head to face the sound, you identify Supergirl. Fighting with an alien in front of the building as they had just bursted through a thick, brick wall. Alex rushes towards the danger and commands, also with a hand gesture:

"Follow me and stay sharp."

Marching slightly a bit faster than Agent Danvers, you end up next to her. Holding your gun in position. Fully concentrated, ready to fire at any moment. The rest of the Agents are right behind you, approaching in formation. You see Supergirl struggling with the alien. She is powerfully thrown away and lands on some wooden pallets, hard, breaking them in thousand pieces. The alien now turns toward the fastly progressing Agents.

“Stop! On the ground, now!”, Alex yells while you're still next to her. Following her lead and feeling your ears ring from her loud voice.

The alien is not amused and quickly throws some metal debris, that are scattered on the concrete ground, at the DEO team. As the shards start moving towards you, all fire with their guns, almost in sync. Open-eyed you look in front of you, the alien is… bulletproof? Your reaction time is affected, because you're caught off guard. While the rest of the team is able to evade the sharp fragments, now flying high speed towards you, a couple of them graze you. One of them scrapes your head. Before you even realize what happened Supergirl appeared again, capturing the alien smoothly.

This was definitely not part of your military training. It's an even greater challenge than you expected it to be. You start to doubt, are you even cut out for this job?

"Everything okay?", Alex asks, noticing your rather odd facial expression.

"Yeah, I just hadn't seen an alien from up close before.", you confirm. "Well, besides Supergirl of course."

Alex laughs: "Guess you'll need to be getting used to it then. As this is what we do".

You look a bit worried. “I don’t even know how to protect myself, let alone fight these aliens”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help with that”, Alex promises, which comforts you.

“I'll also stitch that up for you once we’re back”, she caringly suggests, pointing at the left side of your head.

You forgot you sustained some cuts, probably due to the adrenaline rush, as you immediately reach for it and feel some blood above your eyebrow.

“That's definitely gonna leave a scar.”, you expect while you feel it stinging.

Alex already walked towards Supergirl who is still holding the alien firmly. You keep standing at your current position and tilt your head up at the sky, eyes closed, feeling the sunlight shine on your face. It’s a challenge, but you’re really enjoying this. This new job. And of course your colleagues, or better said, one colleague in particular. You wish this feeling will last forever.

///

[Present day]

Slowly stepping inside the apartment, you see all eyes shifting in your direction. A delicious smell hits you right in the face. It’s of a freshly baked cherry pie. You first, of course, notice Alex, who is smiling at you, which elevates your mood and relaxes you slightly. You also recognize James, Lena and J'onn, who you first knew as Hank Henshaw. He is the one that speaks to you first.

"Good to see you back in National City", he sincerely says, smiling.

"It's good to be back", you respond. "I hear you retired"

"That is correct. But only because I know the DEO is in perfect hands now", he proudly states while turning his head in Alex' direction. She smiles brightly while taking in this huge compliment.

You now notice there are also two persons in the living room you don't recognize. Kara steps in and introduces them.

"This is Nia Nal, I work with her at CatCo. Nia, this is (Y/N)."

"It's a pleasure to meet you", you express, shaking her hand.

"And this is Brainy, he works with Alex".

"Greetings", he says.

"Also nice to meet you", you reply.

"So, where is Winn?", you ask Kara shortly after as you haven't spotted him in the room.

"Who?", Nia exclaims, who obviously doesn't know him.

"Well... Euhm, Winn is... kinda-"

Kara struggles with her answer. You look at Alex, who’s making some kind of hand gesture and is moving her lips without speaking. You stare at her confused.

"What is it?", you question with a frowning face, uninformed about the whole situation.

"Well... Winn went to the future", Alex eventually reveals, helping Kara.

"Yes. That", Kara quickly adds.

You now look even more confused at the two sisters then you did earlier, raising your eyebrows, eyes widening.

"Future?"

"Come on. I will explain everything", Alex tenderly mentions while she gently grabs your arm and pulls you with her in the direction of the kitchen. "But first, we need some wine."

///

[Roughly 1.5 years ago]

Standing on a semi-soft gym mat, you widen your stance to gain better balance, still keeping your guard up high. Alex stands in front of you, very confident looking.

"Show me what you got (Y/N)", she daringly teases as she throws a jab-cross combination your way.

You easily evade the punches with a fast slip to the right, while you mockingly suggest:

"That's all you got Danvers?"

"Don't get me started", she replies with a visage like she's ready for battle.

Besides you and Alex, some other agents are also sparring together or training with weights because you obviously need to stay in good shape. You sometimes spar with other agents, but training with Alex always brightens your spirit.

You're having a good run, throwing and evading punches and kicks when suddenly, Alex lands a killer combination on you. Which you evidently did not see coming. She has pinned you down on the ground. Again. Everytime you think you can beat her, she has some special trick up her sleeve you don't foresee. Alex stands up and looks at you for a brief moment, eyes sparkling.

"Seriously, again (Y/N)?", she expresses, smiling, reaching out her hand to you.

You grab her hand and pull yourself up, feeling a little bruised, like literally.

"I know, I know", you hopelessly sigh.

You and Alex had become close these past months, teaching you about aliens and their weaknesses. Talking and sharing a lot during work time. You had become friends. Even though that’s not exactly what you wanted. But, well, you've got to start somewhere, right?

You grab a towel from the floor that's located at the edge of the training mat to wipe the sweat drops from your face. Meanwhile Alex has grabbed her phone and looks at the screen, fully concentrated with a scowl on her face.

"Everything okay?", you ask her.

"Yeah, it's fine. It's just a text from my sister.", she answers with an irritated tone. "I know she's my sister, and I love her more than anything in the world, but sometimes I could just kill her".

"Wow, wow, easy Danvers. Must be the adrenaline talking", you respond grinning.

"No, I mean she-"

Alex is interrupted by Winn, who walks into the training area towards you two.

"Got the results back", he brightly states.

At the same time he realizes he should not have spoken so loud as he gazes around in panic, looking over his shoulder if the other Agents heard him. Winn got assigned a somewhat 'secret' mission from Henshaw to locate all the remaining Kryptonite left on earth, since some recently resurfaced, badly injuring Supergirl. It was yours and Alex' job to secure and destroy it, once found.

"We'll be right there", Alex asserts.

"Wait... She didn't kick your ass again, right (Y/N)?", Winn questions you with a slight sarcastic tone in his voice, seeing you’d just finished training. 

"Guess I'll have to buy you a beer then. Again", you grunt at him, seeing Alex smirk. 

///

Walking into a dank, dark, cold warehouse, you feel a shiver down your spine. A musty odor floating around. 

“Seriously?’ Why can’t they just hide it somewhere with central heating or something”, you scoff, which makes Alex chuckle.

You search cautiously, pointing your firearms out in front of you. Supporting that arm with your other arm, where you’re both holding flashlights as the only light in the place shimmers from some old, flickering fluorescent tube that has become way too dim. As it is not ‘official’ DEO business, you both are wearing civilian clothes. Busy searching the building when suddenly you hear a noise originating behind you. It sounds like clicking footsteps. You hear them become louder and louder. You both turn around at the exact same time as if you had discussed this in advance. Blinded by the light in her face, you see Supergirl standing there.

“Can you please not shine it in my eyes?!”, she frowns a bit annoyed, covering her eyes with her hands.

Before you can even speak a word, Alex already bursts out, furiously:

“What the hell are you doing here and how did you even know we were here!?!”

“Well… Winn told me and I thought I could help”, she delivers a bit startled due to the way she was just spoken to.  

“You do know we are searching for Kryptonite, right?, Alex discloses, almost barking at her, forehead furrowed.

You’re a bit dazzled by Alex her reaction. Of course you know that Kryptonite is the one thing that can hurt and kill Supergirl. But seriously, why this strong reaction? Surely, not even a couple of days ago Supergirl was badly hurt, taking a kryptonite shard to the shoulder. But Alex removed it promptly, giving Supergirl sufficient time to heal again. You of course have great admiration for her, as she dares to be so close to Kryptonite again so soon.

Suddenly Supergirl speaks: “I think it’s over there. I can’t look inside it, because it’s made of lead”, pointing at some antique fault, stowed away between some old, rusty machines.

You see Alex glower. Before Alex can even speak, you quickly mention, avoiding some dispute again:

“Thanks Supergirl! Alex and I will take it from here. See you back at the DEO!”.

Alex looks at you weirdly as her expression changes, but helps you swiftly since you’re already trying to break open the fault with all the strength you got. Supergirl has already flown away out of the awfully quiet warehouse whilst you’re now observing a small amount of sparkling green Kryptonite in front of you.

///

Driving posthaste in a black SUV back to DEO headquarters, after successfully recovering the Kryptonite, you start to speculate.

“Alex her reaction to Supergirl was very out of character. She was genuinely scared, I could read it from her body language. Like she deeply cares for her, like she’s family or something...“.

Still puzzling inside your head, when it impulsively hits you.

"Wait?! Your sister... Kara… she is Supergirl isn't she?", you declare, out loud. Alex, who is seated next to you, looks at you speechless, with an expression on her face like she's caught red handed.

"Ah, it all makes sense now", you confidently state.

"What makes sense now?", Alex fiercely responds, as she's finally able to produce a sentence.

"Well, every time Supergirl gets into serious trouble, you're worried and a little bit more on edge", you explain to Alex, trying to read her facial expression to see if you're right, with also of course, keeping an eye on the road.

She looks outside, staring at the road, avoiding eye contact. After a couple minutes of ultimate silence, and probably substantial thinking, she reluctantly speaks:

"Okay, you're right. My sister is Supergirl".

"I knew it!", you exclaim, still focused on driving the car as your whole face lights up. 

"Only some people at the DEO know. So you have to keep it a secret.", Alex reveals with a serious tone in her voice.

"Yes, got it. Won't tell anyone. You can trust me", you tell her while looking her soothingly in the eyes.

You immediately see Alex relax once you told her that.

"I know (Y/N)", she answers. "I do trust you. I trust you with my life".

///

[Present]

"Woah... Slow down. You mean like, James and Lena are together?", you say to Alex fairly surprised and to be honest, a little bit too loud. You're really enjoying this little gossip moment with Alex and feeling more and more relaxed compared to the moment of your entrance. 

"Nah, I don't believe you", you add.

Alex frowns and responds with less volume: "Not so loud", while also making a hand gesture.

With a much softer voice you declare: "I always thought Lena and Kara would end up together, you know, as a couple".

"What?!", Alex returns. Now she is the one who talks a bit too loud.

"You don't think they're a good match?", you reply, raising one eyebrow.

"No more wine for you", Alex answers teasingly, laughing about what you just said. While also being a little tipsy from the not-so-innocent red liquid. You’re currently sitting on the couch as the others help Kara prepare for dinner.

“Glad you came, by the way”, she admits while gently touching your leg with her right hand. “We all are”, she quickly adds. Your cheeks start to turn a bit red. Trying to hide it by gazing around the apartment, you look for the rest. Lena and James are making the table, or at least they're trying to. You notice a tension between them not being able to hear their conversation. Lena is mad at James as she ignores him while he's pouring his heart out to her, probably. You laugh on the inside, being grateful that you're not in James his shoes. J'onn is preparing dinner in the kitchen, which smells amazing by the way, while Brainy is questioning his seasoning decisions. You see Nia sitting at the kitchen counter, dozing off.

"Dinner is ready!", Kara announces, abruptly standing right in front of you two.

You wait for Alex to stand up first as you see Kara smiling at you with a particular look.

“What?!”, you softly whisper with an annoyed tone to Kara while Alex had already walked to the dinner table.

“Nothing”, she shrugs her shoulders casually with a caught look in her eyes.

You suspect that she knows about your affection towards Alex- Well, okay, crush on Alex. But you let it slide as your stomach is in need of some food, making a rumbling sound. You sit down at the dinner table, next to Alex of course (was to be expected, right? ;) ) while you see Kara shortly glancing at you with glinting eyes. As if she’s expecting something to happen between Alex and you...

“Let's eat!” Kara speaks to her guests when she raises her glass. “I want to make a toast first. A toast to good friends, new and old ones. Also, a toast to (Y/N) for being back here! We’ve missed you”

"Cheers to (Y/N)!, yes cheers!", you hear them all say while you shyly look away, not liking to be in the center of attention.

"Just breathe", you tell inside your mind while enjoying this moment with friends- No, family, finally, all back together again.

Continue with part 3

[tessxomarie]

Saving You - Part I

*Hi everyone! First, I need to shoutout @hellosupernaturaldoctor​  for giving me advice and the confidence to even attempt this. This is my very first time writing any fan-fiction and the first time I’ve decided to post any of my writing some place other than a word doc. I’ve had this idea for this story since mid-season of the Mayans, and after the finale I put all my thoughts into a story. It starts off slow, but I promise what I have in store next will be worth it! PS, Any feedback is appreciated! - This story takes place a few months after the season one finale. Ez is now a newly patched in member, Alvarez is still working for Galindo; things have been quiet as of late, well for the most part.*

It’s a Friday afternoon, I’m just getting off of work. It’s hot as fuck outside – guess that’s the price you pay when you live in the desert. I lazily gather my purse from the backroom, before I step foot outside, I redo my hair. What was once a cute pony tail this morning has turned into a mangled mess. As my luck would have it, my hair tie snaps as soon as I go to wrap it around a third time. “Fuck.” I mumble to myself. I always wear an extra hair tie on my wrist, but I cannot have a naked wrist. “Fine, a mangled mane I will have. It’s fine, it’s fine.” I whisper to myself. If I don’t leave here now, I will lose all sanity I have left. Man, what a shit show day today has been, this heat must be getting to the kids. Two broken wrists, a broken arm, a no helmet incident and a random summer cold. I didn’t get puked or shit on, and no kid attempted to kick or hit, so I call today’s shit show a success. Just as I’m about to leave, one of my co-workers stops me, “Leah, good work today. You kept that broken arm kid really calm. Keep it up.” Elena tells me with a smile. “Thanks, Elena. I’m just doing my job, but I always welcome feedback, so thanks again.” I say to her as I head out the back door. It’s 4:30pm, I’ve been on the clock since 6am, one would think I deserve to simply go home and use my complex’s pool – oh one can dream. But nope, I’m still on the clock but I guess you could call this gig more of an always “on-call” service.

I pull up in my old school blacked out Jeep Grand Cherokee about twenty minutes after I leave the clinic to the Romeo Brothers Scrapyard, also known as the headquarters for the Mayans MC.  

Chucky greets me, per usual. “Greetings Nurse Aleeah.” He says to me with a big smile and a salute. I let out a giggle as I always do whenever someone says my full name…I rarely ever go by it, but around here, I hear it more than I have in years. But Chucky, oh Chucky– how does one describe a chronic masturbator who has a good heart and is part of the biker world without truly being a biker? I guess I just did, didn’t I? “Hey Chucky, how are you?” I ask as I park and exit my Jeep. “I am well, swell actually. I have no complaints today.” Chucky answers with a big smile. “Good, I’m glad to hear that.” I say as I give his arm a friendly squeeze. “The boys need your assistance, I don’t know details but clearly someone got messed up hence why you are here.” Chucky explains in typical Chucky fashion.I roll my eyes as I stand in front of the clubhouse. “It’s always something with these boys, huh?” I rhetorically ask. Chucky nods his head and heads back to the office. I walk up the steps and take a deep breath before I enter the clubhouse. This club is like a box of chocolates, you never know what the fuck you’re going to get so it’s best you just grin and bear it. Is it just a cut from a broken beer bottle? Did a fight break out and there is blood everywhere? A bullet wound? A stabbing wound? A rat bite? Like I said, you just never know. I open the doors and pray today is nothing major. “Have no fear, your favorite RN is here.” I announce as I enter the clubhouse and strike a pose in the doorway.  “Umm, isn’t it RN BSN?” Riz corrects as he stands and greets me. “Have I told you that you’re my favorite?” I reply with a playful wink and smile, it does make me truly happy that these guys acknowledge and are proud of my accomplishments. “Hola Aleeah.” Riz says to me while we greet with a warm hug, per usual. “Hey, I spy my favorite nurse!” Gilly shouts from across the room. Creeper, Hank and Taza also wave from the card table. “Greetings gentlemen, you all seem to be in one piece.” I say as I mosey around the few tables between me and the guys. “Although that pleases me, who is the one who called up 1-800-Rescue Nurse?” I sarcastically spit, which receives some laughs from the guys. “They’re in church.” Hank points towards the door. “They? Plural?” I ask looking at Riz, and he nods to confirm. “Jesus Christ.” I say palming my face. “Lee Baby!” Coco shouts from exiting church and walking over to me with open arms. “Ah, Coco Loco.” I reply with a smile and we hug. “How are you doing, Coco?” I ask after we break our embrace. “A lot better than your next two victims.” He replies, him not making much eye contact and that just gives it away – I know automatically who my victims are. “You gotta be kidding me? They got into it again?!” All Coco does is nod and look down at the floor. “How bad?” I ask. “What do you mean? How bad do they look? Or how bad is it between them?” Coco asks me. I shake my head with disgrace. I angrily take my steps towards church and I aggressively open the door. “Damn, she is pissed.” I hear Creeper’s echo as I close the door, as soon I enter the room. Looking at the table, I see them. One is at one end, the other one on the opposite end. I drop my nurse’s bag on the table and cross my arms. “You two have some damn nerve - getting into it again. Jesus. You’re fucking brothers, you are blood – blood don’t do this shit.” I yell with anger and confusion. Silence fills the air as the guys look at each other and up at me. Bishop then looks over to me and quirks an eyebrow and half smile. “Excuse my poor manners, Bish. Your boys tend to make me lose all sanity I have left at the end of a work week.” I tell him as I walk over and give him a warm embrace. “Oh Leah, you’re fine. I know this shit has been out of control recently.” Bishop pauses and looks over to the guys. He takes a deep breath. “I’ll let you handle them now. I’ll be outside if you need a referee.” Bishop exits and I just stand there, crossed arms again. Both boys refuse to look me in the eye, but instead stare each other down. “Are you just going to stand there?” Angel seethes. I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Give me one good reason as to why I should fix the both of you up? Huh? Because as I see it, this is the fourth time this month…THIS MONTH!  Angel, please, humor me and explain to me why the fuck I should tend to your wounds yet again? Maybe if I let you both be, you’ll learn these fights aren’t worth it.” I take a deep breath myself, and I run my hand through my tangled hair, which I then end up putting up in a pony tail right after, I’ll just have to remember to find another hair tie to wear on my wrist later.   “Alright, I’m sorry I went off. You two, you two just frustrate me.” I say holding my hands up mimicking a surrender. I take another breath and look between the boys. My gaze is drawn to EZ, probably because he’s the easier one out of the two. “Okay, EZ, I see that nasty cut on your cheek, oh and your hand – good going big brother.” I say as I look over to Angel. He looks away the moment I look his way. “Shocker, EZ gets to be first yet again.” Angel chirps. “Seriously?” I snap. “I’m over here fucking bleeding, I could be dying but all you and anyone ever cares about is Ezekiel.”   “Shut it Angel, just shut it, please.” I beg. I start to tend to EZ’s war wounds; some cuts, a nasty one on his cheek – I’m guessing Angel’s rings got the best of him this time around. EZ, he doesn’t say much this time I’m here. I know that he feels the same way as me – he’s tired of this back and forth shit with his brother. “EZ, no more. It’s one thing when you all call me to take a bullet out, or to give a rabies shot, but this shit – playground fights, I’m done.” I explain as I place the last bandage strip to his cheek. EZ doesn’t make eye contact, and his jaw is clenched. His knees shaking. “I know, Lee. I’m sorry you’re doing this again.” EZ tells me as he finally meets my eyes for the first time. EZ, he’s easy to read. He wears his emotions in his eyes, his eyes right now are filled with pain and sadness. This whole feud with Angel, it’s taken a toll on everyone in this club. It’s been almost eight months of this fuckery. “Remove the bandage Sunday night, it needs about 48 hours to heal. If you feel the need to remove it beforehand, clean it thoroughly. Have some of your favorite tequila tonight, and you will be good.” I tell EZ as I throw away the things I used to care for him. “Thanks, Lee.” He says as he kisses me on the cheek and walks somberly out of church. My heart aches for EZ, because the pain – physical and emotional is all over his face and body. Angel hasn’t taken his eyes off of the wall nor has he spoken. I slide my bag down the table as I slowly make my way towards him. Rubber gloves are on, and I grab his face. “Let’s see your damage.” I say, like a dog would when a human goes to check their mouth for something, Angel gives me a little tension as I touch his face. Again, no eye contact. A look of annoyance screams from his expression. I see a nasty cut on the side of his head, by his eye – a sensitive area which bleeds more than most. A black eye is also forming. “Jesus Christ, Angel.” I say examining the cut a little further. “This has to stop. I’m begging. I cannot deal with looking at you two like this, because my fear is that one day, I’m going to be too late to help any of you.” “What if it is?” He spews. I scoff, “No more.” Is all I manage to say. I take out an alcohol swab to clean out his cut. “This is going to sting, on the count of three – one, two, three.” I say as I then put the swab against the cut. A loud hiss comes from Angel and an instant reaction of mine is to grab his face and blow lightly at the cut, helping the sting not be so painful. Angel’s eyes then lock with mine, a look of shock and confusion fill his brown eyes. Angel and I, we’ve had a very interesting relationship since I first came to Santo Padre. He gave me an attitude and I gave it right back – he seemed more pissed off when I talked back than just walking away, and the more I talked back, the more tension built up between us. We started out on the wrong foot, and that’s how we have remained. He lets me care for him, depending on the time of day. Sometimes he lets his girlfriend, well I think she’s his girlfriend, Adelita, clean him up. Today, for whatever reason, he stuck around the clubhouse. I continue to blow on his wound, and I wince back in pain for him because I know it had to sting like a bitch. “Uhh, sorry. It’s a habit of mine, when I treat the kids, I have to do this; they hate it too, so that technique helps them...” I ramble and look away because I sense a bit of embarrassment, as I’ve never been “nice” to Angel. I look and reach back at the table to grab what I need next, just as I turn to face Angel again, I notice a very small smile on his face. “What?” I question, because seeing him smile legit concerns me. “It’s nothing, Leah.” He says monotone and lets me continue working on him. A few more minutes go by, and I determine that he doesn’t need any stitches, just a little butterfly work on one of his eyebrows. “Okay, that’s all. No stitches today, that cut on the side of your face, it’s a sensitive area that bleeds more than most. Your eyebrow cut, it’s an awkward cut – it’s ugly but not ugly enough for stitches. My only request is when you clean it out, could you please use both water and soap?” I emphasize. I know how these guys operate. They either use a dirty rag or tap water to clean themselves up. I turn to clean up my stuff and Angel lets out a minor laugh, which catches me off guard. I look at him and quirk an inquisitive look. Angel stands up, he turns behind his chair and lightly pounds his fist to the back of it. “You sounded just like my ma.” He tells me, in the softest voice I have ever heard Angel speak in. I offer him a small smile as I already know what that history is. Angel leaves church, and per usual no other words are spoken, no thank you’s, nothing. I stay behind a few more moments and collect my thoughts and belongings. I hear the door open, at first I’m startled but relieved it’s just Bishop. “How we doin’, sweetheart?” He asks. I let out a very deep sigh and my facial expression tells my feelings of this whole ordeal. Bishop can’t help but laugh, “I know, Lee. I know.” He tells me as he pulls me in for a hug. “I just need to go home and lay in bed and watch a trashy romcom.” I exclaim as I grab my bag. “I think you’ve deserved that, but before you go – you have a visitor.” He tells me. A look of a deer in the head-lights flashes across my face, who the hell could be visiting me? “Just come with me.” Bishop motions for me to take his hand and follow him. Nerves take over, with the Club, you never know what can happen. As I exit the room, I see the guys scattered all over the clubhouse yet all eyes are on me. “Your visitor is the biggest pain in my ass, so make it quick.” Bishop says, but I catch his playfulness I his voice and I look to the bar and I see who Bishop is talking about – Marcus Alvarez.

[justheretobreakthings]

Remember Me - Chapter 14

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Word Count: 5,504 (Total Word Count: 57,367) Read on AO3

Story Summary:

It was strange enough for the paladins of Voltron to have found another human this far from home, locked in a Galra prison. But it was stranger still when this human insisted that he knew them, and even that he was the former red paladin of Voltron.

That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? After all, if this Keith was actually a part of the Voltron team, then why does nobody remember him?

Chapter Preview:

“Keith,” Allura snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Saving the stupid mission, what’s it look like I’m doing?” Keith shot back.

“You were supposed to stay on the bridge with Coran!”

“Whoops,” Keith said drily. “Guess I forgot. Lance, on your eleven.”

“On my - hey!” Lance yelped, veering Red away as Keith sped by mere inches from her port flank. “Watch where you’re flying!”

“How’re things looking, Pidge?”

“Well, the intel holds true. We’re definitely getting readings in line with the ones the rebels sent us.”

“And you’re sure it’s quintessence?”

“Either that or the most bizarre new form of static cling ever discovered.”

Allura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she frowned up at the screen where imaging from the Green Lion’s viewport was being projected back into the bridge, where the other paladins stood gathered, watching intently. “Pidge,” Allura said, “What have I told you about being sarcastic when reporting to base?”

“Hard to say, princess, I tend to tune you out when we get onto that topic.”

“Pidge,” Shiro said, tone scolding.

“Sorry. In any case, there’s definitely readings of quintessence on this ship, but it’s also definitely… different.”

“Different how?” Allura asked. “Different like the quintessence the Blade’s been trailing?”

“No, see here.” The view on the screen switched to Pidge’s helmet cam, and she pointed to a readout on her dashboard. “There’s no pattern to the energy surges. The quintessence that the Blade found in connection to Lotor had different energy readings than the ones we have on record from that druid lab we found way back when, but they were still regular. This stuff here, though, it’s like - it seems… unstable.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re moving around in Green,” Lance suggested. “Like, you know, you’re getting closer and farther to the ship, so the reading’s weird?”

“No, Lance,” Pidge sighed. “That’s not it.”

“Well, we can’t know that for sure until - ”

“Yes, we can. Distance doesn’t affect how Green picks up quintessential residue. She releases a signal toward a pre-calculated epicenter on the targeted area that remains completely static regardless of - ”

“Never mind,” Lance said. “I just decided you know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, goody, I feel validated.”

“Could whatever’s creating the quintessence energy be being actively altered right now?” Shiro asked. “Perhaps there’s a working lab in that ship?”

“Doubtful,” Coran spoke up. “Not with that make of ship. It’s a cargo ship, for one thing, but beyond that, it looks to be modeled after the Galra’s old Lexell-N-13 ships. Wonderful stability in the engine room, but notoriously terrible at maintaining internal gravity levels. A dreadful place to be doing precision lab work.”

“So, what are we looking at, then?” Allura asked.

“Transporting supplies, no doubt,” Coran answered. “Whatever’s leaving the quintessence traces may be what’s being experimented upon.”

“Not sure if that really gives us the greatest well of answers as to what the druids have been up to,” Keith commented from the back of the group. “Not if we don’t get access to their process in action, I mean.” This was the first he had spoken since Allura had told them about the signal the rebel group had picked up. Amid their wormholing to the coordinates and sending Pidge out in her cloaked Green Lion to scout out the ship the rebels had come across, he had remained quiet, intently focused.

“Perhaps not the greatest,” Coran replied, “But still useful. We can certainly glean information from whatever is being transported, both the cargo itself and inventory logs, and if they’re keeping travel records, we could use those to find out where the ship is coming from and where it’s going - two other locations that would be immense resources to us.”

Shiro nodded. “All right. Princess, your call: are we looking at an infiltration mission here?”

“That would probably be the best course of action,” Allura answered.

Lance lifted his hand in question. “Should we go for hijacking the ship while we’re down there? I’m just thinking, if this stuff important to Witch Lady, probably would be helpful to keep it from getting to checkpoint B, right?”

“Not in this case, no,” said Allura. “If we’re able to get information about the ship’s docking points, we’re going to want to be able to go investigate them afterward. As long as we’re stealthy and don’t impede the ship’s route, they won’t know we’re coming. If we interfere with them though, or if they’re able to send off any communication that something’s gone wrong en route, they’ll have time to clear the evidence. And if that prison was anything to go by, it seems that’s something at which the druids are quite adept.”

“All right,” Shiro said with a brisk nod. “I could join Pidge, and we can go down in Green and try and make our way into the ship.”

“Sounds good,” Allura said. “Lance, be on standby in Red in case they need help making a quick exit. Hunk and I can ready Blue and Yellow in case any shots start firing, and we can regroup once you’re either finished, or if a battle situation erupts.”

“What should I do?” Keith asked as the others started toward their ziplines.

Allura paused mid-step. “What - what should you do?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah. Should I ride down with someone, or do we have any cruisers to spare, or…?”

“Right. Right.” Allura cleared her throat. “Well, actually, er, it - it would probably be very helpful to have an extra set of eyes here on the bridge to, say, keep an eye on - ”

“Uh-huh,” Keith cut her off, and Lance could practically see him physically deflating. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be helpful.”

Allura sighed. “Keith, this isn’t a matter of you not being helpful, it’s - ”

“I just figured, you know, this is sort of my mission too, isn’t it?” Keith asked. “I mean, we’re - we’re looking into this ship because it’s a lead on, um, my - my, uh, my whole… deal, with Haggar, and I thought - ”

“Keith - ”

“And like I’ve already told you, I’ve got experience with infiltration missions, so I know what I - ”

“Keith,” Shiro said. He had doubled back toward him from his path toward the zipline, and he set his hand on Keith’s shoulder, turning the smaller man slightly to look him in the face. “I promise you, this isn’t anything personal. I’m sure you’d do just fine on a mission. But right now, we just need to do this quickly and efficiently, and that’s going to be more difficult if there’s an unfamiliar element in the mix, you know? We’re, ah, used to the current Voltron dynamic, we know how to work off of it.”

Keith bit at his lower lip for a moment before dropping his gaze and nodding. “Right, sorry,” he mumbled. “I hadn’t thought of - I’ll, uh, stay here with Coran.” Shiro smiled and patted his shoulder before moving away.

“Oh, I’m honored to have the companionship!” Coran said, brightly and just a little too loudly to be perfectly natural, before throwing his arm around Keith’s shoulder and tugging him toward the mission control screens. “Don’t know how many of these instruments you’re familiar with, so let me give you a quick rundown!”

He began an enthusiastic tutorial of the various monitors and buttons, and the other paladins took the opportunity to start toward the ziplines again. Lance shuffled over to walk beside Shiro. “You know,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” Shiro asked.

“Like, give Keith a whole speech if he doesn’t like an order? I know you’ve never been big on pulling rank, but, I mean, you and Allura are in charge, right?”

Shiro shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt anything. ‘Specially when he’s still not in the greatest state mentally and all.”

“He’s a lot better on that mark lately. It just doesn’t seem - ”

“Gotta split up here, Lance,” Shiro said, gesturing toward the zipline entrances.

Lance huffed out a breath. “Right,” he grunted, parting ways with Shiro and moving toward his own zipline. He could let the matter drop. It wasn’t as if he actually cared about whether Shiro was coddling Keith too much. It just had seemed worth a mention.

That’s all.

He slid down the zipline and into Red’s waiting cockpit, and from there he flew out of the hangar to wait, and it was easy to put any concerns about how Shiro was handling Keith to the back of his mind. Red had a way of keeping him focused during a mission. Lance wasn’t sure if it was just the thrill that came with being in the pilot seat, or if the Red Lion’s own keenness and confidence were contagious. Probably the latter, if he were to be honest. And it was something he wouldn’t trade away for the world.

He waited for the others to get their places situated; Allura and Hunk were flanking Black on the way down so Shiro could move into Green for the infiltration itself, and keeping the lion covered until Shiro could return to the pilot’s seat. Once Shiro had made his move, he tailed Green along back toward the Galra ship, keeping his distance.

“Found what looks to be a good entry point over beneath this wing,” Pidge said into the comms. “I can keep Green’s cloaking on and dock her. Lance, keep an eye out on the exterior and be ready in case we need to use a different exit point.”

“Roger,” Lance said. He started Red on a wide swingaround to the other side of the Galra ship, keeping his eyes peeled all the while for any activity.

“You got any schematics you can send my way, Coran?”

“Got some for the old Lexell-N-13,” Coran answered. “Not sure it will be precisely the same as this ship, but should give you a good guideline.”

“Pass ‘em over,” Pidge said. “Long as an access point to their security network’s in roughly the same place, I’m good to go.”

Lance kept his position in the air, and the others were quiet over their comms as they waited before Shiro said softly, “Disembarking Green now.”

“Got you on my radar, Shiro,” Lance said, pulling up the thermal imaging scope on Red’s dashboard and focusing onto the entry site Pidge had pointed out earlier, where two bright blurs indicated Shiro and Pidge’s presence. “Think your coast is clear.”

“All right, I’ll make my way toward security,” Pidge said. “Assuming that these schematics are accurate?”

“I’m eighty percent sure that they are,” Coran said.

“Good enough. Okay, Shiro, quintessence reading’s mostly centered farther back along the cargo bay toward the aft fuselage. Start heading that way, I’ll monitor you?”

“Already on it,” Shiro said.

Lance watched as the two blurs from their heat signatures parted and took off, tracking them until they started overlapping with others on the ship in connecting hallways. At that point he minimized the thermal vision on his dashboard and brought Red around to monitor from behind the cover of one of the ship’s elevons.

“At the security bank,” Pidge said after a few doboshes, “How’s everyone holding up?”

“Hunk and I are holding steady out here, Pidge,” Allura replied.

“Same here,” Lance said.

“Think I’m gonna need a hand, actually,” Shiro said. “Door’s not responding to my arm.”

“Shit, hang on, I don’t see any alarm raised or anything, so what did - ”

“It didn’t light up red or sound an alarm, it was just unresponsive. Seems like it’s turned off.”

“All right, hang on, let me get that powered back up for you.” There was quiet for a few moments before Pidge said, “Uh, Shiro, what door are you trying to open?”

“The cargo bay entrance? Why?”

“Well, I’m looking, and I can’t find any entrance to the cargo bay.”

“What?”

“Like, there’s definitely a cargo hold here on the ship, got official schematics here in the security bank, but I can’t… figure out how to get there.”

“Could you send those schematics my way, Pidge?” Coran asked.

“Sure thing.”

“Pidge?” said Shiro. “If this isn’t the entrance to the cargo hold - ”

“Hold on, let me find you on the monitors… yeah, looks like you’re trying to access a liquid hydrogen tank.”

“Then how do I get to the cargo hold?”

“I’m looking…”

“Don’t forget, Pidge,” Coran said. “You’re also looking for access to transport records and inventory logs.” In the background, Lance could hear Keith’s voice softly ask, “Can I look at the schematics?”

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t forget,” Pidge said. “I’ve got two hands, Coran, I can only type so much at once.”

“So what should I - ” Shiro started.

“Lay low for sec,” Pidge answered. “Look, I’ll - I’ll keep an eye on the cameras while I work my way into their records, Coran can start trying to figure out a way into the cargo hold.”

“I don’t think there is one,” Keith said.

A pause, then, “Come again, Mullet?” Lance asked.

“Well, I mean, there is, technically, but it’s not - look, I recognize these schematics, we infiltrated a ship with this exact same layout once when I was with the Blades, must have been the same model of - ”

“Now, Keith,” Allura sighed, “We have been over this. You were never actually - ”

“No, okay, whatever, I wasn’t actually a Blade, but I swear, I know this ship! And you’re not gonna be able to get to the cargo hold, not from inside.”

“What are you talking about?” Pidge asked.

“It’s an added security measure to ensure that only select people have access to whatever’s being transported. You can’t get to the cargo hold from inside, not unless you go completely smashing through some walls. The only way to get to the cargo is through the exterior bay doors, and they locking mechanisms and key codes aren’t connected to the ship’s internal network, so Pidge won’t be able to hack them from where she is.”

“Aw, isn’t it so sweet how much the Galra all respect and trust each other,” Pidge muttered. “So what, we’re gonna have to go try to get into the cargo bay from the outside?”

“Nothing doing, short stuff,” Lance said. “I’ve got the exterior cargo bay doors in my view. Windows all around, right in the line of a laser turret just off the starboard wing, no place to dock Green… there’s no way in Hell you’d ever be able to get in there without being spotted.”

Keith let out a little grunt of frustration before saying, “Well, then, forget about the stealth, and you can just - ”

“Absolutely not,” Allura said. “Remember, if we give away our activity, we give them the opportunity to clear out evidence wherever the ship is intending to go.”

“But - ”

“Sorry, Keith, but Allura’s right,” Shiro said. “For now, we may just have to forego the cargo and focus on Pidge’s info download.”

“...Fine.”

“Well,” Pidge said. “The good news is, that shouldn’t take much longer. Think I’m just about into their primary drive, so if we - ” A sudden blare sounded into the comms, making Lance wince and put a hand over his ear. “Fuck!” Pidge spat.

“What happened?!” Shiro cried.

“Pidge, did you trigger an alarm?!” Hunk asked.

“No, no way, I - ”

Whatever she said next, Lance didn’t hear. His eyes widened as one of the turrets on the ship rotated toward him. A nudge from Red kept his surprise from freezing him in his tracks, and he had time to grab onto the steering and pull away before a laser blast came shooting his way.

“Crap!” Hunk yelped. “They’re shooting!”

“You don’t say?!” Lance grunted. “Sorry, Pidge, they spotted Red, think that’s what triggered the alarm!”

“Shit,” Pidge muttered. “Woulda been nice for you to wait a few minutes more before making your grand entrance, Lance!”

“Hey, Red is a gigantic robot lion in the sky, there’s only so much I can do to keep her from being noticed!”

“Paladins, please!” Allura said. “This is not the time! Pidge, Shiro, get back to Green! I’ll escort Black around so Shiro can make the transfer. Hunk, you’re on defense, get to Lance and stave off any attacks. Coran, prepare the castle for me to return and make a wormhole for us.”

A chorus of ‘right’s and ‘roger’s sounded through the comms as everyone hastened to comply with the orders. Lance dove out of the way of another blast from the ship before sending one of his own back through Red’s open mouth.

“Hey,” Keith said. “As long as your cover’s been blown - ”

“Not really a good time, Keith!” Lance shouted as he narrowly dodged another blast.

“But we can use whatever’s in the cargo hold!”

“Keith, we don’t have time,” Pidge said. “I don’t know how long it will take to figure out the locking mechanism on the bay doors, and we can’t - ”

“Then forget the locking mechanism, you can get through the doors by force!”

“If we wreck the doors or the cargo bay, we’ll no doubt also destroy the cargo,” said Shiro.

“If you’re careful about where you hit, there will be enough left intact to at least get something! Bring one of the Lions close enough, and - ”

“Even if that is the case, they’ve got weapons mounted right outside the cargo bay,” Lance pointed out. “You try to get into it, you’ll get shot down easy.”

“Not if you’re fast and you dodge!”

“Enough!” Allura said firmly. “We’re cutting our losses now, and that’s that. This is not up for debate.”

Keith let out a growl of frustration, and Lance heard a thump in the comms before Coran said, “Keith, where are you - ?” He paused, then, “Think he left to cool down.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Shiro said. “We’re at Green, boarding her now. Allura, ETA?”

“Within the dobosh,” she answered.

“On the bright side, least this wasn’t a total wash,” Pidge said. “Managed to get those transport records opened up before the alarm sounded, so I’ve got coordinates on hand now.”

“Those coordinates certainly would have been more helpful if we’d been able to maintain stealth, but I suppose they’re better than nothing,” Allura said. “We’ll have to - ” She stopped as a beeping sounded over the comms, followed by a thoughtful “Hm” from Coran. “Coran?” she asked. “What was that?”

“Erm, nothing, princess,” Coran answered.

“Coran - ”

“Allura, we’ve got visual on you and Black!” Shiro interrupted. “Moving in for transfer now.”

“Right, right,” Allura said.

“Feel free to hurry,” Lance said as Red sent another blast of flame toward the ship, “Sooner we get that wormhole opened, the better.”

“We’re all more than aware of that, Lance,” Allura said.

“Hey, guys? Looks like they have reinforcement coming in,” Hunk said.

“Quiznak, you’re kidding me!” Allura said. “What are we looking at here?”

“Just a small cruiser on my six o’clock, but I don’t know if more are intending to follow.”

“You and Lance hurry and take care of them.”

“On it,” Lance said, moving Red so that Yellow was blocking the ship from her before turning to face the new threat.

Just as he was preparing a beam, though, his comm crackled and Keith’s voice sounded into his ear. “Wait, wait, don’t shoot, that’s me!”

“Keith?!” Lance cried. “You’re their reinforcements?!”

“Wha - no! This is one of the castle’s cruisers!”

“Keith,” Allura snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Saving the stupid mission, what’s it look like I’m doing?” Keith shot back.

“You were supposed to stay on the bridge with Coran!”

“Whoops,” Keith said drily. “Guess I forgot. Lance, on your eleven.”

“On my - hey!” Lance yelped, veering Red away as Keith sped by mere inches from her port flank. “Watch where you’re flying!”

“I know what I’m doing, Lance,” Keith growled.

“Like fuck you do,” Lance muttered as he turned to watch Keith speeding straight toward the ship. “Hey dumbass, you do realize that’s where the lasers are coming from, right?!”

“I’m aware,” Keith answered, dodging one even as they spoke, not letting up on his speed for a moment.

“I’m heading back toward the castle, wormhole to follow shortly,” Allura said. “What exactly are you - ?”

“I told you,” Keith said, “You wanna get into that cargo bay, you gotta use force.”

“Keith, you’re gonna get shot down before you get within a mile of that cargo!” Lance shouted.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you - oh, for the love of - ” He hastily turned Red to fire at the turret that had been aiming for Keith’s cruiser. “See?! That thing just almost took you out!”

“But it didn’t!”

“Yeah, and you got me to thank for that! Now would you just - ” A crash echoed over the comms, and Lance’s jaw dropped as Keith rammed diagonally right into the exterior cargo hold door, leaving a massive dent in its wake.

“Keith!” Shiro shouted. “Stop that, you’re going to wind up hurt!”

“I already said I know what I’m doing,” Keith said. He started making a wide turn away from the ship, getting back into position to start careening toward it again.

“I hope you’re aware that the castle’s healing pods aren’t quite as good at healing corpses,” Allura said.

“Noted,” Keith replied, right before another crash, louder still than the one before it, and this time Keith’s cruiser managed to get through the cargo bay door, the tail end of the ship left sticking out of the vaguely cruiser-shaped hole in the metal.

“... Keith?” Shiro said. “Keith, come in! Keith!”

“Oh my God, is Keith dead?!” Hunk squeaked out.

“I’m fine,” Keith groaned. “Just… just a little winded.”

“Keith, are you hurt?” Shiro asked.

“I’m disemarking for a moment.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!”

“Hang on, there’s - shit,” Keith spat. Blasts started coming through the comms, and when Lance squinted, he could see small flashes of light in the edges of the hole not currently blocked by the cruiser. “What the hell’s going on in there?” Lance asked.

“I don’t think the cargo hold likes visitors…” Keith said.

“Then get the fuck out of there!” Pidge shouted. “Guess the locking mechanism’s not the only security on that cargo.”

“I know, I’m going, I’m going,” Keith said, and a few ticks later, the cruiser moved, backing out of the cargo door. A couple of small laser blasts followed him out, narrowly missing the cockpit.

As the cruiser made it out of the ship and started moving away, Lance kept half an eye on it. The vehicle didn’t look to be in the same shape it had been before its crash - only natural, he supposed - and Keith was no longer flying nearly as smoothly as before. The cruiser kept slowing and speeding, and repeatedly lurched to the side before being pulled back onto its course.

“Keith, I don’t think you’re ship’s in a good state to be in battle right now,” Shiro said over the comms before Lance could say anything. Seems he wasn’t the only one who noticed the erratic flying.

“It’s nothing,” Keith replied. “Just some dents.”

“It looks like a hell of a lot more than some dents. If you can’t fly it - ”

“I can fly it just fine, it’s just a little - ” He broke off to let out a small cry as a shot from the Galra ship caught his starboard wing, leaving him spinning out for a few ticks before managing to find equilibrium again.

“Just some dents, huh?” Pidge asked.

Keith was silent for a moment before hesitantly replying, “I, uh… I might need some help.”

“I’ve got him,” Lance said, resisting the urge to tear his eyes away from the battle long enough to roll them. “Hunk, cover me.”

“Roger that,” Hunk said. Yellow made a wide turn to fly between Red and the Galra ship, and Lance sped to where Keith’s little cruiser floated to scoop him up into Red’s mouth.

“Thanks,” Keith grunted.

“Uh-huh,” said Lance. “Now, what have we learned today about crashing ourselves into bigger ships and expecting to fly off unscathed afterward?”

“That you’re too chickenshit to try it?” Keith asked, his tone gratingly innocent. Lance scowled and grabbed a joystick on the dash to make Red shake her head back and forth. “Hey!” Keith yelped. “What are you doing?!”

“Sorry, Red had an itch,” Lance said.

“The lions don’t get itches.”

“And you would know that how, exactly?”

Keith went quiet, and Lance had to grimace to himself a little. Admittedly, that remark had been a bit of a low blow. He opened his mouth with the intent to say as much, but lost his trail of thought when the castle’s wormhole opened up in the sky before him.

“All right team, moving out,” Shiro said, and Black led the way through the wormhole, Red and her catch bringing up the rear.

The universe around Lance went eerily quiet as it always did when they went through a wormhole, that sudden transition away from the noise of battle always leaving a ringing in his ears. The silence was soon relieved by a buzz of conversation on the comms, appraising what they’d gotten from that mission and asking what was to be done next.

“Keith, are you going to need a pod?” Shiro asked as Lance neared Red’s hangar.

“Uh, hard to say,” Keith replied. “Think my ship’s more banged up than me, to be honest.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check just to make sure. Coran?”

“Right-oh, Number One,” Coran said. “I’ll meet you boys in the hangar!”

“Thanks,” Keith grunted right as Red touched down. Lance lowered Keith’s cruiser to the floor delicately, taking care not to jostle it as a silent apology for knocking him around earlier.

Keith was struggling out of the cruiser as Lance descended from Red’s jaw, and the latter let out a low whistle at the state of the smaller vehicle now that he could get a better look at it. A chunk of the starboard wing had been torn off from that blast it had taken, and the crash had left the forward bulkhead half caved in. “Damn,” Lance said, “If this is what you consider ‘dented’, I’d hate to see your idea of a wreck.”

“It’s… probably mostly cosmetic damage,” Keith said, and Lance turned to him. This was also first time getting a look at Keith, since their communication had been entirely over the comms rather than any video feed, and Lance raised his brow at the other’s appearance. Keith had at some point outfitted himself in a thick, boxy armor and helmet, silvery-white save for pale blue accents on the joints and above the visor, a color scheme Lance recognized as that belonging to the old Altean military uniforms in the castle’s storage. Keith finished exiting the ship fully, pale face grimacing as he planted himself on the metal floor of the hangar. His left arm was tucked into his abdomen, his right arm wrapped around it, and he tilted as he found his footing.

Lance frowned. “Your ability to assess your ship’s damage doesn’t give me much faith in your whole ‘I don’t need a pod’ thing.” Keith just sighed.

The door to Red’s hangar opened then with its electronic whir, and Coran marched in with an authoritative stride. “All right, let’s see what the damage - good gracious!” he said as he approached and got a look at the ship. “That looks like - ”

“Yeah, I know,” Keith said. “I’m sorry. It can be repaired though, right?”

“Nothing’s ever beyond repair,” Coran replied. “But it certainly won’t be a quick job.” He tutted as he stepped in to examine the ship more closely. “You’ve got Hunk and my work cut out for us, haven’t you.”

“Sorry,” Keith said again.

“Well, what’s done is done.” He shook his head before turning back to Keith. “Now, boy, this ship’s not the only thing that took a beating, correct?” He gestured toward Keith’s abdomen. “Come now, let the Coranic have a look.”

Keith slowly moved his arm away, and Lance winced when the left hand came away covered in a splattering of scarlet. Coran pounced immediately, tutting away as he moved Keith’s arms aside and examined the injury himself, so Lance had to step around and crane his neck to see the blood seeping through a seam in the plackart.

“Dear dear,” Coran said. “I assume this was from that little crash?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Keith said. “Kinda wound up thrown into some dented part of the ship’s dashboard. I, uh… there was a little, um, I felt a crack.”

“A rib may have broken through the skin,” Coran remarked. “Let’s see about getting this armor removed, yes?”

“Is everything all right?” a voice called. Lance looked up to see the others at the entrance to the hangar. Shiro was at the front of the group, making his way briskly toward them, and he hadn’t even so much as removed his helmet before coming to check the damage, just having rolled up the visor instead. “Keith, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Keith answered as Shiro stepped in to hover over him at Keith’s side. The others, as they joined, hung back, giving Keith some space.

“Okay, my ass,” Shiro said. “You’re bleeding.”

“Well, I’ve had worse,” Keith said. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever crashed a ship.” He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked a breath between his teeth as Shiro carefully peeled the chestplate from him. “And this one wasn’t even so bad. Yeah, I got thrown, but - but normally I hold up better than this, I swear.”

“Where did you get that armor?” Allura asked, frowning at the chestplate.

“Uh, in the armory?”

“Why did you select this armor?”

“It - it looked like it would fit? Why?”

“Because, this is infantry armor,” Allura answered. “It’s no wonder you got hurt. This armor’s not designed to hold against the sort of impact that would come from a full-bodied high-speed collision.” She lifted her gaze from the armor to Keith’s face, eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully lucky you weren’t hurt worse.”

“Good,” Keith muttered. “‘Bout time I got some good luck.” He gasped as Shiro gently probed at the underarmor an inch above the spot where the skin had broken.

“Definitely going to need a pod,” Shiro said grimly. “Keith, honestly, you gave us all a scare with that stunt of yours. If you want to go on missions with the team, you can’t just - ”

“Hey, that stunt got us quintessence, didn’t it?” Keith snapped.

The others paused, all holding still and staring at Keith in silence. “Um… what?” Shiro said.

“The quintessence. Snatched some before whatever security was in the cargo hold started firing on me. It’s in the cockpit.”

Immediately Allura turned and climbed onto the ship, clambering into the cockpit and stretching past the caved-in parts only to soon slide back out. Her eyes were wide as she gazed at the two clear tubes in her hand, each filled nearly to the top with a glowing, pale-yellow liquid.

“Well,” Shiro said softly. “I’ll be damned.”

“You’re welcome,” Keith said flatly.

Allura sighed. “Keith, regardless of whether or not you managed to - ”

“So sorry to interrupt, princess,” Coran said. “I’m in total agreement that Keith’s in need of a nice long lecture, but perhaps it ought to be saved until after he’s had his time in the pod? Shouldn’t be more than a varga or two.”

“Fine,” Allura said. “Get healed up, then we can discuss your… conduct. I’ll take charge of these in the meantime.” She gestured with a tilt of her head toward the vials of quintessence in her arms.

Keith nodded to her as Shiro slid his arm around Keith’s shoulders in preparation to walk him to the med bay. “Coran and I will get that taken care of,” Shiro said. “You three, go ahead and wind down; we can debrief once Keith’s out of the pod.”

The others nodded, and the group made their way out of the hangar. Beyond the door, they separated, Allura off to the bridge, Shiro and Coran balancing Keith between them en route to the med bay, and the rest heading off to the living quarters.

“All right, I’m just gonna say it,” Lance said as soon as Keith was out of earshot. “Anyone else starting to think New Guy is kind of an asshole?”

“Maybe a little bit,” Pidge said with a shrug. “But even you have to admit, he was pretty badass out there today.”

“Badasshole,” Hunk commented, and, at the looks the other two sent him, added, “Sorry, continue.”

“I’m just saying,” Lance said. “Hey, you guys don’t think Allura and Shiro are actually going to let Keith start joining us on missions and stuff, do you? I mean, yeah, he’s all eager for it, and okay, sure, he can pilot, but after that crap he was pulling, can’t imagine he’s much when it comes to, say, following orders and, oh, not almost killing himself.”

“Hard to say,” Pidge replied. They turned the corner into the hallway housing their bedrooms. “Guess it’ll be their call. If nothing else, having him along for missions will definitely make them, um… exciting.”

Lance rolled his eyes as he made his way to his own bedroom. “And isn’t that just what Voltron needs,” he said drily as he opened the door. “More excitement.”

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: Meanwhile, Back in Goodneighbor IV

Mac and John

Takes place just before Wraith wakes up.

Trigger warnings: canon violence/ language/drug, alcohol and gun use

GAME SPOILERS!

Please enjoy!

 “Grrrroooonnnnppp pop pop pop!” MacCready’s stomach was on empty and he was positive it had begun digesting itself. His overhead was too high and he’d been skimping on food. In an effort to live off the land, he had set some snares near a mole rat colony, but had returned to find someone had helped themselves to his catch as well as his equipment.

Daisy was in the back looking for his special order and so her shop essentially unguarded… and those Fancy Lads snack cakes looked awfully tempting…

MacCready would normally have no compunctions about swiping something he might need, or want, but Daisy trusted him and he genuinely liked her…

“NNNNNnneeeerrrroooooo poooooop!” His stomach made his decision for him and he deftly swiped the pink package off the shelf and stuck it in his coat.

As he was removing his hand a vise-like grip closed around his wrist. Twisting his arm back behind his back, someone strait-armed him into the wall. He felt the smooth coolness of a very large knife laid against his cheek even as the smell of mint was harbinger to a voice like honey poured over gravel,  “Well now, what exactly were you thinking there boyo? I’m pretty sure those cakes weren’t yours for the taken’. And I don’t take too kindly to folks stealing from my people, you feel me? Might be you need to lose a digit or two, learn you a hard lesson.”

MacCready tried to push himself off the wall, but the ghoul was like iron. Frantically trying to come up with excuses he was relieved to hear Daisy’s voice, “No! Wait Hancock!” She was waving her arms over her head as if the mayor was across town, “Don’t go slicing him up just yet; this is that sniper kid I was telling y’all about.”

Hancock gave one extra little push to emphasize his ire then released him, “They say ‘first impressions are important’. I’ve gotta say, I’m not impressed.”

Daisy wasn’t exactly sure why Hancock was angry until MacCready rather sullenly slapped the cake box on her counter. She took one look at his gaunt frame and decided to give him a break, “Oh honestly John, the cakes were part of his order! You shouldn’t jump to conclusions Mr. Mayor.”

Hancock’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. MacCready was rubbing his wrist and arm with a mutinous expression and he flinched when Hancock suddenly spread his arms out wide, “Welcome to Goodneighbor. Now I guess I need to consider my own first impression. Heh!”

“Oh you made one alright.” MacCready was practically chewing his tongue in half to avoid saying anything to make the volatile mayor gut him. He had never met Hancock, but he had heard things… things that made sure everyone knew that this was not a ghoul to fuck with.

“Finish up your business then come up to my office.” Tipping his hat to Daisy he sauntered away.

MacCready watched Hancock’s smooth swagger for a second before turning to face the ghoulette. Looking at her from the top of his eyes, he did his best to look winsome and forlorn, “I’m sorry Daisy.”

“You’re sorry cause you’re caught you mean!” She had her arms folded and was clearly pissed, “I recommended you to Hancock based on Carol and Greta’s word. ‘He’s a good kid, even if he’s rough around the edges’ they said. Ha!” Unfolding her arms, she stabbed MacCready in the chest with a finger, “That ghoul there,” She pointed the other hand after Hancock, “has a heart of gold. But don’t y’all think for two seconds he won’t end you if he thinks you’re hurting anyone of us.” She tapped him on the chest, “And don’t y’all think you could take him in a fight when I don’t think even KL-E-O can take him!”

“I’ll take him to paradise, baby!”

MacCready laughed, “I’m sure you would KL-E-O.”

 Hancock was seated on his favorite couch, arms across the back to either side, looking all the world like a king on his throne. MacCready knew that the striking redhead standing just behind him was Fahrenheit and that she was reputed to be almost as dangerous as the mayor. All in all, MacCready’s self-preservation alarms were going off like gangbusters in his head.

Stay cool. Just, don’t say anything dumb. Be cool.

“Stray cat indeed...” Fahrenheit gave him an obviously unimpressed toe-to-crown look, as she stepped from behind the couch and moved to the door.

“And you are even more beautiful than they say!” MacCready tried his best blue-eyed smolder out on her as she passed.

“And you have frosting in your goatee.”

“You wanna to lick it off?”

She gave him the finger as she passed through the doorway.

“That’s not a ‘no’.”  As MacCready turned back to Hancock he found the ghoul to be almost on top of him, his face less than an inch from his own.  Back-peddling awkwardly he couldn’t help the small yelp that escaped him.

Oh! Not cool! You idiot! NOT COOL!

Hancock stood motionless for several seconds before taking an impressively long drag from his cigarette and then blowing a few equally impressively large smoke rings, growling softly all the while. Then to his surprise he saw MacCready’s face light-up at the display. The young man watched the smoke rings as they made their way to the celling with a large smile on his face. Something more or less clicked in Hancock’s brain and he took another, more calculating look, at the merc: he was young, he was way too skinny, even for his slight frame and he had a slight tremor in his hands. He needed help, just like Daisy said he did. Stray cat indeed…

“Follow me.” Hancock turned and walked through the back of his office to the roof access. Once outside he moved to the edge and pulling a gold colored telescope from one of his many pockets, he set it to his eye.

MacCready couldn’t contain his giggle, “Hehe! Are you kidding? You know you look like a pirate, right?”

The set of balls on this kid!

Spreading his arms out wide, Hancock paced elegantly toward him. Executing a full turn that would make any model on the catwalk green with envy, he stopped inches from the merc, “Sexy pirate was always going to be my fallback if ‘sexy mayor’ didn’t pan out.” MacCready gulped as Hancock once again invaded his personal space. Locking eyes the mayor’s voice dropped to a purring growl, “I brought you up here to see how good you are,” Hancock pointed across the rooftops of Goodneighbor to the ruins beyond, “now, take a gander through that scope of yours and tell me what you see.”

Hancock made note that as soon as MacCready raised his rifle and his focus shifted to “work”, the tremor in his hands vanished.

Interesting.

“Super mutants. A few of em. They’re… just kinda… milling around.”

“Yeah, they do that. So here’s the game: I call the shots, you make the shots and I am impressed. You want me impressed, you feel me?” He had his telescope to his eye and was already picking his targets, “I used to come up here all the time, back when my eyes were better. Heh; damn brutes never could figure out where all the death was coming from.”

“And yet they still hang out on the same roof…”

“Greenskins ain’t exactly known for their quick wit.”

“Oh, I’ve known of one or two who could keep a conversation going… but yeah, like maybe two.”

Then with no preamble Hancock called his first shot, “Twelve o’clock helmet.”  

Not missing a beat, MacCready took aim and shot with impressive speed, hitting the target with apparent ease.

“Mr. Laughing and Pointing; get his finger.” MacCready made the shot, cleanly severing just the mutant’s digit. “Now end his confusion.”

Shot after shot, MacCready’s aim was true. It didn’t matter how quickly Hancock called them out or how unique his descriptions of the super mutants were.

“Ammo out! Reloading!”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Hancock stood, tapping his telescope against his shoulder, staring hard at the younger man. His eyes contained a look of such open covetousness that it bordered on lust. “Color me impressed. Pick up your brass and meet me back inside.”

 The first thing MacCready noticed when he walked back into the office was the two items Hancock had left on the coffee table for him: a tumbler of whiskey and an addictol inhaler. Hancock had his back to him and was preparing himself a drink.

Is this another test? The hell? Were my hands shaking that bad?! Fuck it!

MacCready picked up the whiskey and proceeded to gulp the entire glass in one breath. Setting the tumbler back down gently, he appeared nonchalant as he then picked up the inhaler and breathed in the addictol.

Hancock’s laugh rang out through the State House, making several members of the Watch jump, “HA! You are fulla piss ain’t cha? You know that whiskey is actually pretty good. I’ll pour you another if you’d actually like to taste it this time.” Laughing again at MacCready’s confused look, Hancock explained, “Who am I to judge the vices of another man? I offered two different solutions to your problem with not a string attached to either. That wasn’t a test Little Brother, but I’ll give you an ‘A’ all the same. Shit! You get a goddamn gold star for that one!”

“Okay… then yes I would like another… please.”

As MacCready sipped his second glass Hancock presented him with a contract. “This is my standard mercenary contract, with a few addendums. What this simply states is that my jobs get priority and while you may accept any bodyguard, caravan guard, pest removal and escort services that you are offered, assassinations must be ran past Fahrenheit or me first. No sense picking fruit before it’s ripe, you feel me?”

“I actually don’t plan on taking… head hunting jobs anymore.” MacCready’s eyes held a hard look and his jaw was set. “Shooting armed super mutants is one thing…”

“That so? Hmmm, too bad cause I have a very lucrative job of just that nature, couple of bad apples past due for pickn’.”

MacCready’s resolve softened at the mention of a higher pay-out, “Who are they? What did they do?”

“Leftovers from Vic; guy used to run Goodneighbor. He was a thunderous asshole and these three were some of his worst thugs. All the nasty shit you could think of, that was their MO. I have files on all three but I can’t act directly against ‘em. They know all my people and that Railroad ass-hat sez he’s not for ‘cleaning up my garbage’. HA! How’s that for gratitude?”

MacCready wasn’t sure who the “ass-hat” in question was but the rest was pretty clear, “Because they won’t know me I can personally verify their location and then take them out.” At war with himself, MacCready really wanted, no, needed the money but felt he had to stay true to his convictions. Standing up, he prepared to leave before he weakened further, “I’m sorry but I’ve made some promises and I can’t accept…”

“The contract wasn’t contingent on you accepting the assassination job,” Hancock waved him back onto the couch, “if you can’t accept this one job it doesn’t blow the whole thing. Let’s go over the rest of the contract and job list, and see what you can do for me.”

MacCready was genuinely confused, “You would change it for me?”

“I think you’re worth it, yes. Now, let’s have Charlie send us up some grub and break this down!”

 Over the next several weeks MacCready began to see a dent in his money problems. Although Goodneighbor could be rough, he found that the more jobs he did for Hancock, the less he was hassled by anyone. MacCready was often employed and he found that he truly liked the mayor and enjoyed being a “favorite”.  And yet he still felt the pressure of his son’s illness; he need more money and faster. Tightening his belt would only get him so far…

 “Well, look who it is! What’s in the sack?”

“It’s Christmas come early,” Setting the duffle bag on Hancock’s desk, MacCready backed away, “and since you’ve been a good little mayor, I got you your favorite.”        

There were three heads in the duffle bag.

Clasping his hands and placing them along the side of his face, Hancock adopted a falsetto, “Oh Robert! You really shouldn’t have!”

Hancock’s broad smile and use of his first name caused a slight flutter in his stomach and he felt an uncharacteristic blush overtake him.  Clearly flustered, he coughed into his hand before he suddenly remembered why he had done the job, “It was nothing really. You had mentioned a… I think you said, ‘a very lucrative’ pay-out.”

“So I did. I also think we should revise your contract: increase your general payout, increase your drink budget at the Rail… Oh yeah, speaking of which; there is a room available just off of the VIP lounge. It’s on the small side but I figure you could set-up shop there and save yourself some caps on rent.”

MacCready could hardly believe it, “Why? Why do this for me? For the assho… idiot who you caught red-handed, stealing, the first time you met him…”

“Ah, so the truth finally comes out!” Hancock’s eyes danced merrily.

“No, I’m serious! What… else…”

“Nothing you’re not comfortable with.” Hancock was suddenly serious, “Don’t ever feel like you ‘have to’ do anything for me Little Brother…” He placed his hands on MacCready’s shoulders, “save for one thing: promise me you’ll never steal from me or my people ever again!”

“I promise.”

  Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my Wraith in the Ruins master-link in my bio. =^..^=

[lilietsblog]

GHOST TRICK: THE BIG FINALE

so I finished the game yesterday all on my lonesome without internet

why yes I am perfectly fine and not emotionally compromised in the slightest

enjoy my screaming

IT'S GHOST TRICKING TIME which is to say it's ghost tricking time without internet so I'm doing this in wordpad tumblr really needs an 'import rtf' function >_>

SO from what I remember, when last we left off I was about to try to figure out how the fuck a knitted cap and a helmet are going to help me stop a bullet LET'S DIVE RIGHT BACK INTO THIS FOLKS

I still love how Sissel just ignores the dog's little 'WHATS A HOSTAGE O NO' instead of digging into explaining it

oh thank god the game DOES remember ive read this text before

...oh, I forgot how I did this the last time O WELL

all right, so I remember swiveling the lamp and dropping the hard hat, then when the knitted cap is over here I can swap it with the book and get it on the hook but how did I get the knitted cap over here

aha, he looked away for a moment, the helmet part is done what the fuck do i do now

AHA okay, so now i very quickly cart the ladder back and forth, I think I remember this

fuck, he noticed me, okay don't swivel the lamp while he's watching, swivel it while he's still looking away

I gotta note the 'I don't know why you're wearing my face' part HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

fuck, nope, I can't swivel the lamp back at that moment because he notices it clattering and turns right around FUCK OKAY LET'S TRY TO DO IT WITH THE LAMP THERE

ugh, if only I could do shit during the cutscene while he rolls away >_>

OK I SHOULD HAVE HAD MORE TRUST IN MISSILE HE IS GREAT AND A VERY GOOD DOG AND CAN AIM FOR SPLIT SECOND TIMING OF A BULLET BEING IN THE AIR OKAY

haha, and the knitted hat still hit Cabanela with enough velocity to knock him over I love this and I particularly love his dramatic leg up in the air he doesn't evne know what's happening he just aims to be the most dramatic possible at all times and it's really helping us out <3

'i love knitted hats... so warm, and most of all, so SOFT' <3 <3 <3

god Missile is so good this is pain IS THE DAWN DEADLINE A LIE MAYBE DID RAY JUST SAY THAT TO GET SISSEL'S BUTT MOVING I DON'T KNOW

oh yeah Cabanela's still got broken bones all over I kind of forgot about that

oh ok, looks less like broken and more like just really fucking bruised, becuase in that movement he's put pressure on all limb bones and nothing bent out of shape, so that's good

lmao and Cabanela's just like 'BUT IF I WAS KILLED IN THAT EXPLOSION THE SITUATION WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER' I I don't think it would necessarily work out that way, considering how much difficulty our protagonist was having saving just the professor :x

oh hey we've got our next source of information! should be quite a wellspring if Sissel remembers everything he should ask

yeeep Cabanela you FUCKED UP

oh, the gun :x

HON IM PRETTY SURE THE FIRST PART IS MORE IMPORTANT THE PART WHERE YOU TRIED TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF HIM CORNERED RATS BITE THIS IS COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY YOUR FAULT, ALL OF IT

aha, those cases, okay

and Cabanela was doing the thing because of Jowd that makes sense -_- kind of

yep, that one little snag kind of puts a question mark on the whole thing alright, that almost makes sense? kind of? makes Cabanela kind of a selfish butt doing this for his own obsession rather than for personally Jowd but makes sense

ok, the bringing him to justice minister to buy time thing actually does make a lot of sense it wasn't A LOT of time that he bought but it was just enough and that's what counts

oh hey, this guy used to have the job that the blue fake stole? (and yeah sounds like blue guys are just foreigners -_- bc they couldnt find spies that didnt stand out visually or anything)

hum not a scratch, huh regenerating dead body, okay

oh come ON Sissel don't be surprised now that part was obvious from the moment he said the corpse disappeared the meteorite's radiation, okay, quite interesting :D

"it was like a meteorite had struck me on the head" so, has that been a cause of death today yet, because if it hasn't, this looks like foreshadowing -_-

hum, so the gun would have been loaded because he controlled Kamila, which she then wouldn't have a clear memory of makes sense

HI LYNNE JUST IN TIME

arrest her to keep her safe, that actually makes perfect sense IF ONLY IT HAD WORKED LMAO no wonder pigeon guy roasted him for that in the deleted timeline XD

"while he was at it" <3 <3 <3

awwww pigeon guy was friends with him too <3

hee right on top of his striped jumpsuit honestly he looked less escaped-from-prison-ish in the paint-splattered robe thing XD

a present, huh?

awww see Sissel you don't feel lonely and that's what counts

ALRIGHT THEN :D LET'S FUCKING GO :D AND, UH, DO SOMETHING, I GUESS I love how out of proportion Sissel's powers are rewind time, talk to dead people... and move small objects a little

so, uh, Sissel, are you sure there's answers for YOU over there or did you just get into habit of telling this to yourself to feel better

okay well how the fuck did Jowd infiltrate a fucking SUBMARINE like, I just want to know the physics of how this happened?

omfg the bullet had a radio transmitter well, I have a newfound respect for Cabanela, I gotta admit like I already respected him but I just figured he shot the guy out of a desperate 'can't do anything else might as well try this' urge to do SOMETHING but nope he had a plan (which would have worked even with him dead)

wow, and he actually gave the thing to Jowd beforehand n i c e

wow, okay, that's stealthy

aha, and he can totally leave his body and wander around freely I think that was already confirmed but it's nice to know for even surer

wow, okay, what the fuck re: that thing reaching up from below that definitely looked like... something else for a moment there 0.0

aand okay the meteorite is possible to extract from his body I wonder if evil!Sissel actually knew that... or if that actually did anything to him :D

okay, what the FUCK and how many more people are dead now

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW MISSILE IS HERE TOOOOOOOO

the phone is ringing, how convenient :D

ooohkay this is tricky

so, why the fuck were there baseball and basketball balls hanging in nets under the ceiling on a submarine ... ... you know what I don't want to know

wait, Kamila can't hear him? oh, right, over the phone ghosts communicate by close range telepathy

aaand this makes the FIFTH time Lynne's dead tonight! or is it sixth? did i lose track somewhere?

AWWWW THIS SCENE IS LIKE AN OVERDOSE OF CUTE

'i wonder what happened THIS TIME' yep lmao

no actually 'i dont remember what happened after that' sounds like evil!Sissel to me, personally

but do you know what this wheel does Sissel are you sure turning it is a good idea

"I just sort of blacked out, the next thing I knew, I was dead" <3 <3 <3

"now it's all making even less sense than before" AND THAT'S SAYING *SOMETHING*

but actually okay yea this does kind of sound like an explosion that killed Lynne and knocked Kamila out

aaand nope I was absolutely correct )=

can this guy only puppet one body at a time? couldn't he have just possessed Lynne and had her slit her own throat or shoot herself or hang herself or something? that sounds a lot more productive than having a little girl fight her I mean, even if he only can puppet one body at a time, puppetting Lynne would have been a lot more productive overall, is there a reason he can't?...

or does he just love to do things in the most convoluted and roundabout manner typical to villains everywhere -_-

"nobody ever calls the dead" ARGUABLE a number of phone calls has been made this night specifically for the purpose of putting our!Sissel on the line

aand okay :D looks like the blue assholes saved Lynne just in time, sort of ...for a certain definition of 'saved'

so anyway this guy said something like 'you cannot possibly comprehend my suffering' so it would be funny if he was just a random dumbass that a bad thing hapened to one (1) time, which granted also killed him, but all the misery since then has been of his own making and he's put every single person involved in the events through worse just over the course of tonight, and simply has no sense of scale, perspective or proportion I think that would be great if the story went there XD EDITOR'S NOTE IN RETROSPECT: the story didn't go there and that was not fucking okay (it's dead women in the fridge again!)

and Sissel can't understand revenge as a concept SOUL TWINSIES WITH ME OR WHAT

lmao Lynne is starting to get touchy about how many times she's needed rescue lately XD

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE WHY CAN'T I REACH FOR ANYTHING YET also, interesting to note that in the 4 minutes ago past, neither Lynne nor Kamila have a core looks like Sissel's interaction with this realm is limited after all, and not only by phones there's v interesting existential fuckery going on here, of the exact sort I ABSOLUTELY LOVE

oh THERE we go 'nobody ever calls the dead' ARGUABLE again and I love Lynne's signature instant-snap-into-hands-over-head animation + pose Good Reflexes

ALRIGHT, FIDDLING WITH RANDOM SHIT WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT IT MIGHT DO TIME ...and that sure worked fast

hum, a random mechanic, alright

oh hon that's a, um, what's the opposite of exaggeration I know this word in Russian >_> over...littlification? that 'restless ghosts onboard' THAT'S ONE WAY TO PUT THAT

lmao that was one odd fate change

alright, found the temsik fragment capsule, I see yay unexpectedly strong wastebucket lids (seriously, that's a whole freaking basketball, there's a reason the nets worked like that lmao)

alright, just watching the cutscene for now, that's fair this guy sure looks like he's going to abandon his entire crew and blow up the sub or something

"farewell, sir" WELL THAT DID NOT SOUND QUITE RIGHT

alright, and we're left in the capsule rather than the fragment which apparently did not have a core of its own for some reason

OMFG THERE'S A LITTLE RAT IN THE TORPEDO ARE WE GOING TO HAVE A RUBE GOLDBERG MACHINE INVOLVING A SMALL RODENT AGAIN BECAUSE THOSE ARE THE BEST KIND BUT ALSO THIS IS NOT HOW TORPEDOS WORK BUT ALSO HI RAT!!!

yeah exactly thanks Sissel! how the FUCK did it get here also I love that the characters DO pay attention to the wellbeing of innocent rats in this game <3

well, you COULD just try to get it to blow up earlier, in the water you'd be stuck but you'd be heroes, or something well, Lynne would go back to her body, Sissel would be stuck :D oh, and the rat would die, that's the bad news

YEAH LET'S SAVE THE RATTIE FIRST if this time the rat is going to be in the way rather than helping, well, I REALLY DO RESPECT THAT LET'S SAVE THE RAT

alright, after some trial and error I DID manage to get both weights in the same position (mostly by luck) and throw off the rat NOW TO SAFETY

alright, this looks promising OKAY IT ALSO LOOKS LIKE KAMILA AND LYNNE MIGHT BE SAFE FROM EVIL!SISSEL NOW THAT'S GOOD NEWS

yusss caring about rats ftw <3

that's what missiles do, huh they're unstoppable i dont know who it is i hear there but Missile is great yes

well, whatever this is, our!Sissel just turned it on maybe it's pumps to remove water!... not that they'll do much against an unplugged breach but

aha, okay, won't move for long

this movement through a machine's gears feels like the purest expression of the game's premise since the junkyard tricks at the very beginning <3

the way Kamila's speech kinda fades in from white? that worries me

...eeeyup

god but I love this game's animation. this little one of Lynne hoisting Kamila up on her back? it feels, like, PERFECTLY balanced with their weights and Lynne's strength and everything <3 <3 <3

oh my god Lynne why couldn't you just... be able to swim not that it would help much with Kamila unconscious but

oh my god Lynne is literally right here why do I still have trouble moving around freely???

oh, found it!

wow, she's climbing one-handed while carrying Kamila, that's some serious upper body strength <3

W E L P

YEP THAT'S SOME SERIOUS STRENGTH THAT SHE DIDNT JUST FUCKING FALL NOR DROP KAMILA

yeeep okay WOW

ARE YOU BOTH GOING TO DIE NOW OR WHAT okay, no, just fall, and not even in the water that's good news

LYNNE THIS IS NOT A POSE YOU WANT TO BE IN RIGHT NOW unless you're actually holding yourself against that shit in the background with your left hand and I just can't see it I guess

...nope, she was holding her chin LYNNE NO

MISSILE HURRAY

okay, the fan thing makes sense

now to swap around a bunch of broken pipes so they don't get in lynne's way, got it

FOR FUCK'S SAKE I REALLY DON'T SEE A WINNING COMBO HERE

aand I fucking lost but at least I got Sissel in position -_-

alright, now with one pipe turned off it actually works out easily it just... took me really long to realize I'd need Sissel for this one -_-

Lynne honey but have you considered: you have no fucking clue what's behind that door although presumably submarine has only been breached in one place and it's this room?

holy shit with the hook Sissel managed to hoist the combined weight of Lynne and Kamila now THAT's a nifty trick

SISSEL FOR FUCK'S SAKE SHE CAN'T MUSTER LEVERAGE FOR THIS BECAUSE SHE HAS TO HOLD HERSELF AND KAMILA UP AND SHE'S TIRED SHE CAN ASK FOR HELP EXCLUSIVELY IN SWAHILI SWEARS AND IT'D STILL BE A WAY THAT YOU HAVE TO PUT UP WITH

aww, someone's saving us!!!

someone who commented on unstoppable missiles earlier, perhaps?

right, the truth... that's still relevant. while on a sinking submarine. yep

haha sinking submaries i have just been playing oxenfree haha

oh wow that's an improvised mechanism made out of garbage sticking in a close range telekinetic field nifty shit

oh oh okay that explains absolutely nothing evil!Sissel is not evil now, or what?

lmao this is getting more confusing, but like... in a very satisfying way <3

evil!Sissel still seems to have SOME amount of powers, at least, though possibly not the manipulating humans ones? but this amount of telekinesis is still incredible

so okay our Sissel's name possibly IS Sissel, but this dude's isn't I'm more confused than ever before I doubt there are three of them, so...

ahh, Lynne making Kamila more comfortable <3 <3 <3 and again, animation is fucking excellent. just, the timing of everything? it's better than 90% of all 3D animation I've ever seen in games

power and time, okay, got it so the dawn deadline IS real, just not for him wait, possibly not for Sissel and Missile, either?

I see he still fell in his signature ridiculous pose it's less funny now, overall

ah, okay, so the time effect is different too it seems to have been the same for Sissel and Missile though? is this a personality powers deal?

I love that Missile is perfectly comfortable with weird shit because as a dog, that's about the amount of understanding he has of his everyday surroundings, too <3

oh, hum so the moment this guy actually 'died' is the moment that blue guy took out the fragment?

wipe out everybody, huh

okay, so the shooting is as we knew, kind of

the first shot missed the mark, huh? quite curious, quite curious stray bullets are known to be deadly :D

alright, so that's a conversation that mostly confirmed what we already knew we have a new ally though, sort of

aand Lynne's empathy saves the day -_- like I said earlier, this guy's feelings aren't like... unique or anything, he just sucks at theory of mind

Kamila!!! so hey kiddo this guy in front of you is the guy who killed your mom

anyway, I'm still pretty sure Sissel hadn't yet introduced himself to you when you started calling him "Sissy" so there's that lead

and Kamila makes herself comfortable <3 I love this Little Lady so much <3

AWWWW THE RADIO THING <3 <3 <3

'and what about a torpedo' WHAT ABOUT A TORPEDO LYNNE THIS SOUNDS EXTREMELY UNSAFE

KAMILA ARE YOU KIDDING ME YOU'RE TOUGH AS FUCK

OMG IT'S A GRAPE SERVING MACHINE I LOVE THE LUXURIOUS FUCK THIS WAS MADE FOR

alright, torpedo room, that works

swap  the switches to get them unstuck!!!

so I'm going to guess everyone there died, too, and Sissel's going to have to prevent that, too that makes perfect sense

that 'understand exactly how he feels' thing our!Sissel and evil!Sissel are really fucking different in this particular respect :D

awww and the girls convince the doggo <3 <3 <3

so, does Kamila know about the dawn deadline for all ghosts, or

oh thank god I didn't need to control that hop this game really has a policy of not having a permaloss option <3

Yomiel, huh so that's his name

alright, and 'Sissel' is an alias ...I'm just going to keep using it for the protag, just to make things slightly less confusing

ah, so this guy had access to national secrets, and that's how he did the singer thing

and he was proven innocent offscreen <3 <3 <3 stylish

stylish animation, nice

didn't help anybody? did you ever try? because our!Sissel sure figured that shit out quickly

welp, the blue guys are assholes but then, they were also kind of dealing with an asshole I can imagine why they didn't think he was reliable to deal with :x

awww, I like the leaflet guy so much <3 <3 <3

I love how Jowd's like 'well, I'm dead, are you happy now' and Sissel's like 'so anyway about that' FUCK death not tonight, not when Sissel's here <3 <3 <3

alright, and this guy's a robot that still doesn't quite he's pretty human-like >_> I am not a fan of the blue guy in charge is all I'm saying also lmao I nicknamed this one 'iron man dracula' i didn't mean it that way but

ah, remote-controlled, alright that 'farewell' was odd then

'your country's use of technology is just plain off' I LOVE THIS

could there have been two pieces of meteorite in this guy's body? okay, nope still!

OH WOW FOUR MINUTES BEFORE HIS DEATH THAT'S THAT'S ACTUALLY EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED FROM THE VERY BEGINNING EVEN THOUGH I THOUGHT THIS BODY BELONGED TO THE WRONG 'WHOM' THIS IS SOMEWHAT MORE AMBITIOUS THAN PLANNED BUT

...okay, no, his 'death' would actually be before the control room was launched, not all those years ago STILL THIS IS THE -EXACT- THING

alright anyway this is plenty of buildup WHO THE FUCK IS OUR PROTAGONIST it's funny how so far absolutely 0 of what we've seen has pointed to that I have plenty of odd thoughts in my mind ofc 'that guy from another point of time' being the prime one as a homestuck, the possibility of there being multiple ghosts of the same person doesn't faze me in the slightest in fact it seems like an intuitive conclusion BUT THEIR PERSONALITY SURE IS DIFFERENT

anyway, :D :D :D

Final Chapter

...aha! so it counted ten years ago after all! dang :D

aha, I see that mascot thing I see baby Lynne!!!

I note how for someone threatening to shoot the kid, Yomiel's gun sure is pointing in the wrong direction AND he's holding out the kid to the side, not between himself and Jowd SOMEONE sucks at hostage taking lmao

a kitty, huh

and then a meteorite, okay

I note the lamp

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww Yomiel is thinking 'so maybe I'll die in another way and all this will have not happened, that's a better outcome anyway' isn't he god his faces are Sissel faces and look this game knows EXACTLY what it's doing with its visuals exactly one facial exression of Yomiel's has not matched Sissel's I doubt it's because of lazy artists

alright, so a good plan would be swapping the mascot and the lamp

but seriously, WOW Yomiel sucks at taking hostages this game's animation is always stellar and brilliant, there's NO fucking coincidence there he was absolutely not willing in any way to put baby Lynne in actual danger, even if he pretended he did and it worked on Jowd

anyway how the fuck do we get to the lamp

'we can talk about all this later' ARGUABLE TBH the entire, like, THING is going to change oh man is everyone going to go back to their bodies 10 years ago with their new memories because that's fucking hardcore was Kamila even BORN yet

augh I DONT KNOW I CANT REACH I THINK I CANT REACH ANYTHING WHAT DO I DO MISSILE IS IN THE SWEET POTATO ON THE FOUNTAIN SISSEL IS IN THE NOZZLE BUT NOT THE CENTRAL ONE AND CANT REACH THE CENTRAL ONE WHAT DO I DO

okay sounds like I missed my chance let's try that again

ghhhh okay I think I have figured this sequence out even though I have to rewind again 1) rock the basket 2) jump into nozzle to launch the potato 3) Sissel jumps into the potato and then from the potato to the central nozzle 4) Missile jumps into the potato 5) launch the potato x2

okay, Mino fell into the fountain, not that I know how this can help because AGAIN, Missile can't reach Mino from the lantern :x and Sissel can't do absolutely fucking anything

annd the finale is a cutscene alas

alright, let's try that again...

hum we didn't get a FATE CHANGE registered after dropping Mino might this mean we have to do something right in the process?

AW YEAH THAT DEFINITELY JUST HAPPENED LMAO

are we going to kill everyone by dropping Mino on them instead XD

trick time, huh Sissel still can't reach anywhere Missile can swap two identical lanterns, not that this does anything he can talk to Sissel, for what THAT's worth

aha, the lantern dropped, Missile can move around now, that's good

Sissel still can't do shit though

well, that's the detective's LEG, not... anything else or anything

oh man, yeah... YOUNG JOWD IS A DUMBASS man, even Yomiel isn't aiming at him anymore, he's like 'hey dude are you okay' so the theory that Sissel is alternate!Yomiel is really gaining steam in my head not that it wasn't the primary one all along but

AW FUCK YEAH MISSILE THE BULLET CATCHING BADASS DOGGO!!!

anyway sweet potato?

BOO YAH um or not

OR YES ACTUALLY THAT WORKS

OH MY FUCKING GOD YEP THE LAMPPOST FUCKING MINO

awwwwww and finally the trauma of remembering your death is brought up!!!! Sissel cares <3 <3 <3 (and Yomiel doesn't at the moment NOT THAT I CAN'T UNDERSTAND THAT IN CONTEXT) (then again I'd understand it if Sissel didn't either but he's the purest being in existence so)

awwww Yomiel is finally going to contribute!!!

omfg lmao "Make it spray as if your life depended on it!" "Uh, I'm dead though" Yomiel is winning ALL the sensitivity awards tonight <3 <3 <3

I I think that Yomiel hasn't done anything yet oh, okay, we're still winning time

holy FUCK Yomiel that was definitely a thing you just did

dear Young Jowd, Yomiel is the one who saved her. Not gods

awwww and he gave baby Lynne a detective's badge <3 <3 <3 he's so good with children <3

so, can Yomiel be alive please :x ALRIGHT, HE IS THAT WORKS

THE KITTY DID THE METEORITE KILL THE KITTY

wait wait wait is is Sissel the kitty is that why he has no idea how guns work or anything else like that that that is truly fucking incredible f y'all's i AND I GUESS IT FITS WITH HIM AND MISSILE JUST GOING AROUND SAVING PEOPLE TOGETHER LIKE A BADASS DUO AND IT FITS WITH HIM GETTING KILLED BY LYNNE'S FIRST SHOT ON ACCIDENT I HONESTLY CONSIDERED A RAT OPTION FOR LIKE A SPLIT SECOND THERE

OMG OMG OMG OMG YE S AND HIS NAME REALLY IS SISSEL

god jesus fucking christ this this fucking game i just im howling this this definitely is a thing that just happened it owned me so hard im so fucking owned right now

yep hes the cat he's Yomiel's cat

aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww there's a good reason he had identity confusion in all this they WERE confusable as one being for a while

'her' huh?

oh man wow THIS particular part of the story sucks

so Sissel was a girl's name all along? okay

but also, FUCK no wonder he went bonkers specifically about being unable to die

'his powers couldnt help anybody' more like they couldn't help ONE SPECIFIC PERSON

so that bag is a kitty carrier huh and Lynne's miss accidentally killed the kitty

LMAO THE PART WHERE WE ALL THOUGHT LYNNE HAD KILLED THE PROTAG WASN'T WRONG

I DAMN FUCKING REMEMBER THAT CAT JUST FOR YALLS I I ABSOLUTELY REMEMBERED THERE WAS A CAT THERE I JUST NEVER LINKED IT TO ANYTHING I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS A VERY PRETTY RANDOM STRAY

anyway Yomiel that's what you get for playing with guns they're deadly weapons and result in death you're fucking welcome

so anyway who the fuck is Ray

but anyway kitty Sissel saved everyone...

okay but hold on hold on hold on I didn't quite get the implications about the fiancee the first time around WHAT THE FUCK CAPCOM i was just recently thinking how fucked up it was that I remembered the last name of Polly Jenkins, just because of how much her brief story shook me

and uh I think is that also the implication here because that's not fucking okay

anyway so did Yomiel die as the result of that or nay bc that looked fucking deadly if not instantaneously so

god but this ffucking game

this fucking... game

oh Missile I'm pretty sure YOU are going to see HIM alright lmao wasn't Jowd taking him home

but also damn the original events of these ten years, as remembered by - a dog and a cat - Detective Jowd and Kamila (but not Alma, who never was brought back to life directly) - Lynne - Cabanela - the medical examiner - the minister of justice AND NO-ONE ELSE ...wait, no ALSO THE GUY FROM THE FUCKING PARK ...yep that's a thing we're doing

so another important thing is that the rock star kid is going to be okay and the curry guy, too nothing bad happened to them in this timeline, right?

ALRIGHT HI RAY WHAT/WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU

(right now my bet's on 'a rat')

oh, Sissel also killed two people tonight, that happened

lmao and in this version of evens Missile died in the presence of Temsik

omfg and Ray is alternate!Missile this is fucking amazing <3

lmao his ghost aged and lost its powers?

also the dawn deadline was a lie he just wanted to get Sissel's butt moving I FUCKING KNEW IT

I love how Sissel's just "I DID WHAT" even though he's been doing that all evening this time around too

yup doggie's a fucking liar the only real time limit is the lifetime they would have had if they were alive huh damn

but seriously I called that before I started this section of the liveblog even if I think I never actually made that post 'what are the odds Ray is a fucking liar' I don't think I ever wrote that I kept getting distracted but yep I fucking called this

THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART GOD I AM ;U; THIS DOGGO

anyway one participant of the events who definitely wasn't born yet 10 years ago is indeed Missile 0.0 how's that... gonna work...

but I do love that just... the justice minister, of all people, is also going to be in possession of those 10 years

OH MY FUCKING GOD LYNNE IS ABOUT TO HAVE A FUCKING HEART ATTACK I KNOW THERE'S NO GUN BUT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

KAMILA WHAT THE FUCK DON'T FUCKING DO THAT THAT'S ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING

aawwwwwww IT WORKED THIS TIME AROUND

'nice to meet you' OH BOY OH BOY I GET HOW IT WORKS NOW I THINK ...uh, I'm not sure how Lynne knew to flee from the junkyard then, but either way it looks like they're only getting back their memories at the PRESENT and that's why Kamila didn't fUCKING KNOW AND REMEMBER WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH DOING THAT JUST NOW

LMAO SOMETHING'S GOING TO EXPLODE TONIGHT

oh, nevermind, it's not that yet :D but it really does sound like it's going to :D right... about... dawn? :D

aww Jowd actually carries toy badges with him everywhere <3 <3 <3 'child handling tools'

still a kitten, huh yeah, that whole Temsik thing :D

aww, and here's her, all alive and everything

SO BIG MEMORYSPLOSION PLEASE

(at dawn) (it's fucking coming that's my headcanon and you can't beat it) (a bunch of people are going to become really fucking traumatized tonight)

hey!!! Missile!!! Cabanela brought him, huh

so, what's up with Yomiel, anyway

COME ON SISSEL MAKE NICE WITH MISSILE HE CAN'T CLIMB UP THERE

that guy's imitating Cabanela lmao

Memry <3 <3 <3

very best customer, huh

AWWW ITS THIS GUY HI GUY YOU'RE OKAY NOW WITHOUT YOMIEL TO RUIN EVERYTHING YOU'RE JUST FINE

hah, and these two

.............................................yup. they died

'the indescretions of a minister perhaps?' I LOVE THIS FUCKING LADY I LOVE HER I LOVE HER

ah, these two what deal is it this time

the little rock sinter guy!!! yeah!!!!

hi medical examiner guy <3 guess you're not doing medicine after all huh

HI LEAFLET PARK GUY YOU ARE STILL CUTE

HI BAILEY

oh man oh man Yomiel :D hey are talking about Yomiel :D

SHOW ME HIS FIANCEE YOU COWARDS

lmao he's the painter this time even the robe sits the same

SO SHOW ME

OH YEAH OH YEAH HE REMEMBERS THATS THE PICTURE OF THE FUCKING CAT AND NO MISTAKE ABOUT IT

YUP YUP THIS IS IT lmao that crane i sure do remember it well it murdered two people tonight <3 <3 <3 kitty <3 <3 <3

aw yeah! in that picture with Missile!!!