#rip to the lost panel I couldn’t fit in here

[comically-blu]

♪ Think I just met my dad in 1983 1985 ♪

- basically, what if mystery twins meets their dad’s young teen self in Time Traveler’s Pig

(7 panel, 3 out of 7 + 3 extra) ⬇️

My daddd, 1983 (my dad)

My father, 1983 (papa!) My dad, 1983

Eddie Pines, 1983 (Eddie!)

Extra to the aftermath:

(Edit: I caused a bit of a time paradox into the timeline so I fixed a panel LOL

[butwhyduh]

Bar light

Roy Harper x reader

Warning: alcohol mentioned, smut, fighting, verbally abusive ex

The smell of tobacco, tequila, and beer stained leather were practically familiar at this point. The classic rock played as a common melody. You swirled your finger on the ring of a glass of whiskey neat you had impulsively ordered. It tasted awful but the burn felt better than the heartache so you took another sip.

The bell at the bar rang and a small group of people walked in. They wore a motley assortment of leather outerwear and bandannas. A man and woman walked up to the bar together, clearly a couple. And another man, a bit younger than the pair, sat at a table roughly and sat a full bow on the table. You couldn’t help but stare.

Everyone was packing some kinda heat around here with all the cowboys and rednecks but usually they were hand guns or knives. Maybe they were hunters. Sometimes they came around to hunt the white tail deer and generally fuck off to the country for the weekend.

Maybe you had your heart broken a little to freshly or the whiskey was finally in your brain, but you couldn’t help but look the stranger up and down. He got a water and downed half of it immediately. He had dark red hair and freckles and arms so fucking ripped that you knew he was strong as fuck. When a fit man walks into your bar all alone, the temptation to introduce yourself was strong.

“Hi,” you said, sitting in the seat across from him. The bonus of having your heart ripped out is knowing this guy could never say anything as mean as what you’ve already heard. He looked up at you with bright green eyes and a nod.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” you continued as you eyed him obviously. His lip curled up at you in a lazy smile.

“I’m not from around here,” he answered.

“Wanna a drink?” You asked. “A real drink?”

“No,” he replied and your eyebrows rose. Was he really being a cunt right now? “I have a much better idea of things I’d like to get lost in,” he replied while eyeing you over. You wrapped a hand around his bicep and slid your fingers along the muscles while eyeing him.

“I’m listening.”

He smirked. “How about I show you instead? You got a room around here?”

“Yeah, I know a place where we can be alone,” you said and he stood up and slung his bow over his back. You stood and finished your drink. This was so far out of character but you figured life was already fucking you over, might as well get some orgasms too. You pulled him out the side door and the outer screen slammed ignored.

You pulled him to an old trailer. Wood paneling and 1970s style curtains hung on the windows. You opened the door and he didn’t think twice about joining you. It was small and cramped but clean inside. His head almost touched the ceiling.

“Sit,” you suggested as you pulled out an old record to play. He lounged know your bed and watched you turned the music up deafeningly loud.

“You’re not too drunk are you?” He asked.

“Nah I’ve been nursing that one drink all evening,” you admitted while dancing.

“Good,” he commented while pulling you on his lap and into a kiss. His lips pressed against yours messily and he groaned when you let him slip his tongue inside. His hands kneaded your hips and pulled you to press against him. It didn’t take long for his mouth to move down your throat to lick, nip, and suck at the skin.

You pulled in a gasp of air before breathing out, “your name? What’s your name?”

“Roy,” he murmured against your skin. You pushed at the leather coat on his shoulder and he shrugged it off, forgotten. His hands, warm, slid under your shirt to hold your waist as he pulled you even tighter.

“Let me know if you don’t want this,” Roy said before gently nibbling your ear.

“I want this,” you replied as you shoved him to the mattress. You pulled at his shirt and he yanked it off his head. You stared at his body. A spattering of freckles and assortment of of scars covered his muscular chest. Your fingers automatically ran along the divot of his abs. Roy looked up at you like a pleased cat.

“You just want to admire or…” he teased. You shut him up by pulling your shirt off. Roy hummed in approval. His eyes followed the shape of your tits and the rise of your chest. He didn’t focus on scars or marks or any flaw you may see there yourself. He pulled you down to kiss more.

You wasted no time pulling at his belt buckle and Roy huffed out a laugh while pulling it open. As you unzipped his fly and cupped his dick, Roy pushed your pants down your legs. He was hard and warm in your hand.

“Let me,” he said, pushing his hips up to slip his pants and boxers off. He grabbed his wallet and pulled out a condom. You took it from his hand with a wink and he put his hands up to let you. You rolled it along his length and shed off any remaining clothing. Roy moved to grab your hips and turn you both.

“I want to ride you,” you breathed and he hummed approval.

“Babygirl, you can use me however you need. This cock is yours,” Roy purred while staring at you shamelessly. It was intimidating but also so fucking empowering that he was so hot for you.

You climbed up to straddle his lap and slowly sat on his dick. You slowly moved while little sounds escaped your mouth as he stretched you. It had been awhile since you had a new partner and Roy was far from small. He looked so good beneath you too. Firm chest and stomach and arms totally ripped and covered in tattoos. Even in the dim light in the trailer you could see his freckle covered skin flushed with color.

“Oh baby girl, you feel fucking fantastic,” he said as you bottomed out. You breathed through the stretch until the urge to move was overwhelming. Your hips started moving and bouncing.

Roy’s hands were everywhere, on your hips, gripping your ass, plating with your tits, and pushing your hair from your face when you bent to kiss him. The rough pads of his fingers cupped your cheek as he kissed you.

You started grinding down on him with your clit rubbing his body. It felt amazing and you moaned as you rode him. “Fuck yeah, baby. Use me,” he groaned. He moved his hand down to rub his thumb along your clit and the first stroke pulled a startled gasp from you.

Your hips tried to keep up but couldn’t push yourself over the edge. You made a frustrated sound and Roy gripped your hips and pulled you along faster like you liked. “Fuck yeah,” you breathed as you planted your hands on his chest. “Don’t stop, I’m close,” you breathed. He nodded and made little groans as he pushed you both over the edge.

You gripped his chest and threw your head back as you came. Roy surged forward to kiss all over your throat as he finished too. He moved your hips through your highs. You all but collapsed on his chest with a pleased laugh. He pushed hair away from your face to kiss you again. You both adjusted to where you laid on your side in his arms and pulled a blanket around you both.

“Well I wasn’t expecting that but I certainly ain’t complaining,” he said.

Before you could answer, the sounds of angry knocking at your door startled you both. Roy looked at you. “If you’ve got an angry boyfriend, I’m not here-“

“No. He’s my ex that won’t go away. Even with a restraining order,” you sighed and Roy noted the worry in your voice and crinkle of your brow. The door was rattled again with the knocking.

“I know you’re fucking in there,” he called out in a mean sing song voice. Roy moved out from under you and started getting dressed.

“What are you-“

“I’m gonna talk to him.”

“I don’t think it’s a good-“

“I’ll talk calmly and he’ll understand. And if not then I’ll persuade him,” Roy replied, sliding his feet in his boots.

“Bitch! Open the door! Or I’ll fucking knock it down,” he yelled and you could tell he was drunk.

“Coming,” Roy said with a grin you couldn’t quite place. Was it a playful one? He opened the door to the trailer and you stayed in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your ex asked.

“I could ask you the same question,” Roy replied. Your ex looked furious.

“Are you fucking kidding me? She’s already whoring around?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you need to leave,” Roy replied. “She clearly isn’t interested.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

Roy noticed his fists curling at his side and he ducked out of the way letting the other man punch the trailer hard with his knuckles. Before he could bounce back or react, Roy lightly slapped him across the face. He was clearly playing with him. Your ex tried to grab Roy only to clutch air as his momentum pulled him forward. Roy let him smack his face against the trailer and stepped cleanly out of his way. Your ex all but roared in rage and turned to charge Roy who finally acted first and with a single punch to the head, knocked him out on the gravel.

“Hey,” he said ducking back in the trailer. “You can call the cops on him. He’ll be out for a while. I’ll be gone by the time they get here and you can say it was a concerned citizen helping you out.” Roy winked.

“Wait,” you called out as he started to leave. “How can I get ahold of you?”

“I’ll call you.”

“But you don’t have my number.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get ahold of you soon enough. Stay safe, yeah? I’ll make sure chuckles over here leaves you alone for good,” he said walking and putting his bow on his back. He walked down the dark road out of town as you watched wondering if you’d ever see him again.

[barnes-dameron]

hi, do you think you could write a mandalorian x reader where the reader gets hypothermia? maybe din goes off on a bounty hunt for a few days and a couple days into him being gone the heating completely stops working and reader can’t fix it and she gives almost all the blankets to grogu to stay warm? cue din freaking out when he comes back to a barely conscious and freezing reader and he warms her up and it’s just cute

Frigid 

*gif not mine

Mandalorian x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This seems very fitting for me right now since there’s a foot of snow outside of my house! The reader is gender neutral  

***

You looked out the wind shield of the Crest to watch the frantic swirls of snow that encompassed the ship. Though you couldn’t feel the cold at that moment, the sheer thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, and the tiny hairs on your arms to stiffen. The howling wind outside was so strong that it gave the Razor Crest a gentle shake. You hated the idea of coming to Hoth, but the Mandalorian insisted; a bounty worth a ton of credits was hiding out in a cave somewhere nearby.

Shaking your head, you descended down the ladder to be greeted with the beskar clad bounty hunter who was packing for his hunt.

“I shouldn’t be gone for long,” he said, his deep voice doing nothing to comfort you. “Keep the heater on, and you and the Child should keep warm.”

You nodded at his words, pulling your jacket closer to you at the mere thought of being cold.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, trying to conceal your anxiety.

“A few days at most,” he replied, shoving a blaster into his holster before slinging his prepared bag over his shoulder. “But I’ll be back in no time.”

That was the last thing he said to you before departing into the white abyss, leaving you and the Child in solitude.

It was quiet in Crest, except for the hum of the heater and coos from the Child every now and then. There was little to keep you occupied, much less to distract you from worrying about the Mandalorian. There was nothing on board that interested you, and the Child couldn’t do a lot, much less talk. The only thing that kept you company was your anxieties. However, you put all those thoughts aside when it was time to eat. You heated up some pre-made soup, serving both the Child and yourself. But as soon as the hot broth reached your lips, the humming stopped.

Your heart began to quicken its pace as fear began to spawn within you. At of all the times for this to happen, why did it have to happen now? You stood up from your seat on the floor, grabbed the toolbox, and made your way to the control panel for the heater. Removing the metal paneling that was concealing the controls, you stared at the wiring and tried to make sense of the thing. You didn’t know much about this sort of thing, only how to hot wire a speeder, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be too different. You rearranged the wires, and nothing. You reprogrammed the system, and nothing. You stepped back, putting the panel back, then began your frantic search for anything that will keep you warm.

Days. That was what the Mandalorian said. He would be gone for a few days. A few days for you and the Child to survive without heat. You gathered all the blankets that you could find, all your clothing, the Mandalorian’s capes and shawls, and an old animal pelt you found in the back. The Child watched in curiosity as you began to make a nest of blankets and clothing in the small bunk. You grabbed the little guy, placing him on the make shift bed, and continued to wrap him in the Mandalorian’s capes.

“Go to sleep, little one,” you murmured. “Hopefully you’ll keep warm, and by the time you wake up Mando will be back, and we’ll be far away from here.”

You closed the door to the bunk, praying that the Child will stay warm and that the Mandalorian will come back soon. If anyone knew their way around this ship, it was him. You sighed to yourself as you pulled on more of your clothes, the layers hopefully keeping in your body heat. You made your way to the cockpit, and settled in the pilot’s seat, looking out the wind shield in hopes that a beskar clad figure would appear in the winter desert. You didn’t care how long it took, you will stay there to make sure he comes back.

Hours have passed by. The never changing scenery doing nothing to keep your interest, much less to keep you awake. You lost all feeling in your toes and fingers. You were now able to see your breath every time you breathed. You continued to shiver in place, trying to stay awake to see the Mandalorian. But the swirls from wind and snow caused your eyes to grow heavy, lulling you to sleep despite the cold that was beginning to bite your cheeks.

***

The Mandalorian dragged the body of the his dead bounty behind him as he approached the Razor Crest, but a certain dread overcame him when he entered the hull only to find the interior was just as cold as it was outside. His heart dropped as the idea of the situation washed over him. He released his hold of the corpse’s feet, the thud echoing. Din closed the hatch to the hull, and began to look for you and the Child.

He opened the door to his bunk to find a little bundle of blankets on top of his cot. Din pulled aside some of the blankets to find the little womp rat, curled in a ball with his eyes closed as he napped. Turning on the heat signature on his visor, he was relieved to see the Child warm. He nodded to himself, placing the blankets back on top of him before going to find you.

Din climbed up the ladder to the cock pit, and his heart began to sink when he laid eyes on you. You were nearly blue through the heat signature vision, and panic started to arise within the Mandalorian. He turned off the heat signature, and began to examine you.Your features lost color; your lips were pale and chapped, and eyes shut. Your body was shivering, and your teeth were chattering softly. Din shook your shoulders, and began to repeat your name, trying to will you to wake up.

Relief flooded him as he watched your eyes flutter open, though they seemed lifeless, it held the light of someone who had hope.

“What happened?” Din asked, trying to keep your attention before you go back into your sleep.

“H-h-heater,” you stammered out, your teeth chattering as you did so. “B-b-broke.”

Din nodded, before hastily ripping off the cape that rested on his shoulders. He wrapped the garment tightly around you, making sure it covered a good portion of your head so that some warmth could return to your face. It was then that he set forth towards the control panel, pulling out the tools that Kuiil gave him from what felt like ages ago. Din recounted the words and advice from the wiser being as he fixed the wiring and checked the internal structures of the heater so that it would last. When he gets back to Nevaro, he will pay a mechanic to install a new one so that this will never happen again.

Din sighed in contentment when he began to feel the haul warm up, the soft humming filling the air once more. Turning back, he returned to the cockpit to find you once again sleeping. Taking off a glove, he pressed the back his bare hand to your cheek but then instantly pulling back when feeling how cold you were. It would take some time for the whole ship to warm up, and he would have difficulty carrying you down the ladder. You were still unconscious, practically dead weight. He would have no problem with anybody else, but this was you. He didn’t want to even risk hurting you.

Weighing his limited options, Din decided to do what he thought best. One by one, the Mandalorian removed pieces of his beskar armor, setting it aside on the floor, but not removing his helmet. Once it was all laid side by side, Din dragged you off the pilot’s seat, moving you towards the door so that the heat could get to you sooner. He pressed his back to the wall, holding you close to his chest as he circled his arms around you; pressing as much of his weight on you so that you could receive some his heat as well.

Din didn’t know how long it took for you to begin to warm up or even regain consciousness. To be completely honest, he enjoyed this intimate moment with you, despite the circumstances of the whole situation. He took this time to remind himself that you were safe, alive, even though he was gone. Even though you were helpless in this situation, you remained alive.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt you shift under him. He turned his head to look at you; the color has returned to your face and your eyes fluttered open to reveal the light of life within them. Din brought his hand to your face once again, relieved that it was warm instead of frigid cold.

“Mando?” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” Din said, grabbing your hand and holding it in his glove less one. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you replied, snuggling closer into his chest. “The Child?”

“He’s okay,” Din assured. “Sleeping soundly in the bunk.” Din stroked your hand, relishing in the soft texture that he so rarely felt. “Can you move?”

“I think I can,” you said. “I can wiggle my toes.”

“That’s good,” Din affirmed. “Do you want to get up?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Whatever you want,” Din replied.

He leaned his head back to rest on the wall behind him, allowing you to get closer to him; resting your head on his collarbone, right underneath his chin. If he were to lean forward, he was sure to feel the top of your head beneath his helmet. But this wasn’t about him, it was about you. He wound his arms tighter around you, but still held your hand, tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Hmmmm,” you hummed, causing Din to draw his attention to you.

“What?” he questioned, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I just never really realized how warm you are.”

Din felt you squeeze his hand tighter, but he pulled away for just a moment. He positioned it so that your fingers would interlock with his, palm to palm. It was this moment that Din would cherish forever: holding your hand with you so close to him in the solitude of the ship with the heater humming in the back and the harsh cold outside.

Taglist: @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me

[gracielitamargarita]

Thoughts on Kyoru in Fruits Basket: The Final as a manga reader

(and bad metaphors about lava cake)

So with next week's impending shit storm of a Furuba episode next week, I've been doing some reflecting on our favorite Mutual Pining Idiots, Kyoru--and thinking about how the anime adaptation's choices in rearranging or removing content has impacted things, specifically with Se3E6.

And just to preface, I think the anime adaptation has been terrific overall. I also think loving something and critiquing something aren't mutually exclusive either. The goal of what I'm about to write is not to incite negativity, just to get some feelings out about my favorite pairing from my favorite manga series and provoke some deeper thought, I guess.

ALSO, I hope you don't mind metaphors--specifically ones about chocolate-raspberry lava cake, because that's what I've decided works best for explaining Kyoru. So FASTEN THOSE SEATBELTS PEOPLE 

MANGA SPOILERS regarding previously omitted content as well as VAGUE ANIME SPOILERS that can be implied/inferred from the ending of Se3E7 under the cut.

I think one of the (many) reasons I find Kyoru to be such a satisfying ship is because of the slow-burn element. Come season 2 through the beach arc, their chemistry is palpable, natural, and growing stronger and stronger with each episode. When Kyo finally admits to himself that he's in love with Tohru in Se2E9, it feels like we've been rewarded with a chocolate lava cake topped with raspberry sauce--it's delicious, complex, and full of gooey and satisfying substance.

Now like many, I'm a sucker for the pining idiot trope--let alone the MUTUAL pining idiot trope--and we do get to see this through the end of season 2 as Tohru's feelings for Kyo become more apparent to everyone BUT her. It's like we're LOOKING at the chocolate-raspberry lava cake, so close that we can ALMOST touch it, but we as viewers aren't allowed to cut into it yet--which makes every little encounter between the two of them all the more exciting, because we wonder what's finally going to allow us to ravish this goddamn lava cake (sorry).

Which is why I realized I'm actually struggling more than I initially thought in the final season. As it's been widely speculated, discussed, and now officially confirmed, we're getting 13 episodes this season. And while like most everyone else, I'd be thrilled with two cours, I don't know the ins and outs of anime production, AND, while I'm bummed, I've accepted that it is what it is--and that it isn't the reason I'm writing this post.

Of course not every panel or fleeting moment can be adapted from the manga to the anime. There were small little cuts here and there over the course of the first two seasons, but nothing in my opinion that's really SO substantial that it drained the lava cake of its filling--maybe some of that raspberry topping, but generally, the good stuff is all there. (Though I do love this moment below from chapter 82, which was skipped over in Se2E19)

The final season has been different, though. As we know in the manga, the inner turmoil for Kyo--and Tohru to an extent--really starts escalating immediately after Cinderella-ish with Kyoko's backstory and Kyo's nightmare from chapters 90-93. I also understand that Cinderella-ish was Se2E23, and with only 2 episodes left in the season, it made sense from a directorial standpoint to end with the Kureno/Akito reveal versus Kyoko's backstory and Kyo realizing he needs to know his place.

But without this context, it leaves moments like the flower scene from Se3E2 less impactful--like a lava cake made by someone who skimped on the filling. To an anime-only (and even as a manga reader), it's likely still a satisfying moment to watch: we know that Tohru clearly has a lot of inner turmoil following her conversation with Kureno. Kyo's turmoil following his nightmare, however--and overall, the sentiment of him thinking he needs to stay away from Tohru, yet still finding himself drawn to her above all odds--is deeply diminished.

Which leads me to the main reason (finally, sorry) that I wrote this post--Se3E6, or the episode when Tohru finally admits to herself AND to Rin that Kyo has taken the place of her mother as the most precious person to her. 

In the manga, Se3E6 is made up of chapters 107, 108, 109, AND 114, spanning the end of volume 18 through the beginning of volume 20 of the TokyoPop mangas. Volume 19 in particular is one of my all time favorite mangas in the entire series for one clear reason: just as we've seen Kyo get to do in season 2, we finally get to see Tohru slowly own her feelings for Kyo, and MY GOD, is cutting into that lava cake and enjoying that delicious filling satisfying AF. The Mutual Pining Idiots are in full swing here, both dealing with inner turmoil but also being unable to stay away from one another either. In addition, they're dealing with normal teenage awkwardness too, which feels like a bonus topping (would nuts go well, do we think? LOL) to the Kyoru lava cake.

But between the producers adapting Momiji's arc prior to episode 6 AND the producers ending episode 6 with a 2-minute horror movie essentially--AND, lest we forget, none of the Kyoko backstory at this point--we lost essentially all of that satisfying filling. 

And again, I understand, only 13 episodes and the producers are trying to make shit work and I do see why they made some of these changes in the overall big picture of things, but I wish it weren't at the expense of Tohru's character development and also for Kyoru, which had been so thoughtfully and delightfully well-developed in the first two seasons.

My biggest issue BY FAR with episode 6 is Tohru's confession to Rin happening before the sheets scene. The producers combined 109 and 114 for the second half of episode 6. In the manga, Tohru is able to openly admit that Kyo is the most important person to her BECAUSE of how he accepts her after she "opens the lid" to reveal the ugly feelings she's been harboring for years about her father. And in the manga, since we have the context of Kyoko's backstory and can see how she nearly committed suicide and left Tohru alone for days, it is gut-wrenching to finally hear Tohru confront and express her trauma in her own words. 

The sheets scene is arguably my favorite scene in the entire series. The anime portrayed it beautifully. Jerry and Laura ripped my heart out with their performances. It was a deeply moving scene (even with all of the changes) and the romance and pining was there--but, I hate to admit it, the feeling of cutting into that delicious lava cake to reveal that even more satisfying filling was not.

And now, come the end of Se3E7, we're approaching the climax of the series that we've been salivating for for so long now, the result of all of this inner turmoil and secrets and deep, deep longing for one another--and it almost feels now like the cake was baked too quickly, in addition to being drained of much of its filling. 

I was debating waiting to write this until next week after we see how Se3E8 goes, but my thoughts have been swirling about and this clown couldn’t help herself. I'd like to end this post on a hopeful and more forward-thinking note, though, if you've made it this far into my novel LOL.

There is definitely the potential to add a little more about Kyoko's backstory in next week's episode. I also expect that we'll hear more of Tohru's inner narrative and thoughts, which I’m really looking forward to. As several others have speculated as well, I predict that we'll be getting chapters 119-122 next week. Despite it being 4 chapters, everything should happen in sequence (versus with episode 6) and there's a lot of action, so I do feel like it won't feel rushed or disjointed. And while I could see them possibly ending with 121, 122 would be my preferred ending for many reasons (manga readers know where I'm going with this ;P) and I honestly see it fitting best there.

And regardless of what happens, I'm looking forward to eating whatever variety of lava cake is served to us next week.

And at the end of the day, we'll always have the manga, which will probably always be my favorite lava cake of all.

(and now I'm hungry for an actual lava cake)

[stxleslyds]

EVENT LEVIATHAN issues 2 and 3

EVENT LEVIATHAN BUT IT’S ONLY JASON TODD.

Oh, Anon, I am sorry it took me so long to answer your ask, to be honest with you, I had completely forgotten this book ever happened and when I went looking for it, I saw who was the writer for it and my brain disconnected completely.

Michael Brian Bendis, what a polarizing writer. I had forgotten why I didn’t like his work much but this book made me remember that his writing gives me headaches. I swear, every time I read his work I am left wondering if I missed an issue or a page, it’s like I always lack information even though he makes sure to write a lot in those “monologue boxes”.

But I am not here to complain about Bendis, let’s talk about why Jason appears in this book and how is he characterized in it.

If you don’t know what Event Leviathan was about, in the first issue we are told that a terrorist has been attacking places simultaneously. This person, known as Leviathan collected some of the people that survived the attacks (like Batgirl), and others he let escape (like Green Arrow). All of the attacks were on organizations (A.R.G.U.S, Spyral, D.O) that were the pillars of the world intelligence community.

Because the case is big and operating on a big scale, several detectives and heroes (Batman, Robin, The Question, Lois Lane, Plastic Man, and Manhunter) have come together to figure out who is behind Leviathan’s mask.

In the second issue, their main suspect is Jason Todd after Damian suggests that Jason’s “special war on crime” can be related to this worldwide level of terrorist activity.

Well, If you couldn’t tell by the way that I phrased that, I really believe that DC and Bendis had to do some weird changes to the narratives because Jason hadn’t been really at “war with crime” for a very long time, or at the very least, not on that level (against organizations selling/controlling intelligence). So, right of the bat, I am confused as all hell.

Jason at this point in time was working as the Ice Lunge’s owner, so this was after the events of RHatO (2016) #25 and after Roy Harper’s death. But before I get to explaining why Damian and the others thought that Jason was behind Leviathan’s terrorist attacks, let's talk about Jason’s characterization.

How to write about a character based only on “tropes” that the publisher of the book told you. A Guide by Michael Brian Bendis.

We find Red Hood in Seattle, already investigating Leviathan. So, yeah, to me it was kind of obvious that Bendis put Jason there to build up the reason as to why Jason was the main suspect of being Leviathan or working with them.

We are offered some very casual banter with Batman as well as the ever-present subplot of Jason caring for Barbara Gordon. I am not a fan of whatever DC was and is trying to do when it comes to Jason and his crush on a person that he barely knew and has rejected him before. Bendis was probably told to put that there, I really don’t see Jason going out of his way to ask if Barbara is final but oh well.

In that panel we also see Jason say this to Batman, “can we put away the stuff between us so we can work on the case?” to which Batman answers, “of course”.

What the hell was that? First Batman beats the living shit out of Jason (Jason even says that he never saw Bruce hit the Joker as hard as he was hitting him) and rips the bat-symbol of his suit saying that they no longer work together or whatever, then we have Bruce going to Jason to tell him that Roy is dead, he gives him a hug but then proceeds to tell Jason that he is still banned from Gotham.

DC really reduced all that to “stuff between us”, alright, all I am getting from that is that I was right when I said that DC lets Batman get away with his horrible treatment of his kids as if it just were a subplot. Lovely, I hate being right.

But that’s not really what I want to discuss, I want to discuss the level of detective/investigation skills that Jason has got going on for him in this issue. Suddenly Jason has information about what happens with organizations like Spyral, ARGUS, and DEO? And then Bruce asks Jason if he has been in contact with Talia recently?

I am not mad about those last things, don’t get me wrong, Jason being good at investigating and him being (possibly) in contact with Talia are great things BUT they don’t fit in his story anymore.

Where is this Jason coming from, it must not be from the narrative that Lobdell had going on, Jason never showed much interest in keeping up with that side of the world or in doing detective work. And his relationship with Talia was downgraded a lot, basically, all Talia had done was keep an eye on Jason since she first met him before he was robin (yeah, that was a thing that happened as told in RHatO (2011) #25) and that how she found out that he died, after he came back from the dead, she put him in a Lazarus Pit and then sent him to the All-Castle so he could become Ducra’s apprentice. That’s literally it.

Or are we working with a Jason that maintains his Lost Days origins? There isn’t time on the timeline for that to have happened so his involvement in this book and the way that they are writing him is very confusing to me.

Jason doesn’t say anything about Talia except that he pulls an Uno reverse card on Bruce and asks him if he has been in contact with Talia. But just like many things with Bendis as a writer we never really hear any of them say anything about Talia and they continue talking about something else.

Alright, back to sharing what they found it is! Jason has apparently investigated this very closely because he cannot stop bringing up the fact that the attacks leave no bodies behind. Either people escape or vanish from the attack site.

But here is where the so-awaited “Batfamily” mention comes in. After Bruce tells Jason that he is putting a team of Detectives together Jason asks this, “we can’t keep this in the Batfamily?” Gods, was DC on crack when they wrote this? The Batfamily? Honestly? Two of your best detectives are not around to help you and your so-called family left Dick Grayson all alone in Bludhaven!

What Batfamily are you talking about Jason? You, Bruce, and Damian? I can’t with DC pushing and pushing the wildest concept in their universe.

After all that Batman spends a lot of time explaining what has happened or what was supposed to happen, he talks to Jason about how the other detectives were getting closer to retrieve a body that they needed to study. In between what Batman is explaining the scene of Plastic Man talking with Leviathan happens and there Leviathan says that they know each other. So, that’s a clue, whoever is behind the mask is someone that Plastic Man has met before.

We find out that Batman was retelling that story to Jason, so Jason starts putting the pieces together. Batman already has a team, they know that Leviathan has been spearing some heroes’ lives, there is a cause for all the attacks (“a new world order”), and that the attacks leave no bodies. Jason even begins to put together the list of suspects but then Jason asks Batman if they have their number one suspect and Batman says, “Yes”, and it’s Jason!

This is so funny to me, like what? How did they come to that conclusion? Luckily Bendis “explains” the Detectives’ team’s reasoning, I guess? They take turns to ask Jason basic questions that Jason deflects from some reason? It is so dumb.

From this page the most important thing that I gathered is that Damian (the one who initially accused Jason of being Leviathan) says that he doesn’t “think that you (Jason) know you are doing any of this. I think it manifested itself out of grief”.

What? A terrorist that has some sort of technology that makes explosions that leaves no bodies and spares some people’s lives, is being manifested by Jason because Roy Harper died. Did I understand that correctly? That’s their big idea as to why Jason is their number one suspect?

Team of detectives, yeah, I don’t see it.

It makes zero sense! First of all, what “war with crime” was Jason having at the time, and they also say that that war was “a point of controversy for years”. Excuse me? Are they really calling Jason using guns (with rubber bullets) a SPECIAL war with crime? What are they referring to? Are they talking about the events of Under the Red Hood? Because Jason hasn’t been that version of himself in years! We don’t even know if those exact events happened in this continuity!

I am so lost; I actually don’t know why they are relating a terrorist attack to Jason. I don’t know, to me, Jason’s appearance here is unjustified and lacks logic.

Now, we find ourselves in the third issue, where an unnecessary amount of time jumping is done. First, we are in the present after both Batman and Robin let Jason run away. Listen, I know that they tried to paint it as Jason kicking both their asses but I saw those pages, they threw three punches and one of them connect with Jason’s jaw. Batman and Robin just stopped fighting Jason.

I don’t know, why they had to make Damian say that Batman let Jason get away when he was there too and did nothing.

And then they had Damian say this about Jason, “I have never been a member of his fan club but Jason Todd is one of the great master fighters of all time”. Okay, sure, Jason has had a lot of training and he has been immeasurably overpowered over the years but I still find Damian saying this a bit weird, like why would he say that? The fight that is shown after this look into the present is just like any other fight that any Bat-related hero has had. Dick has had more impressive fights than that one after the New 52 and he was immeasurably nerfed.

I love Jason getting recognition for the things that he does right and that he is good at but I need you to represent those moments better. The fight isn’t that grand and they clearly let him run away!

In the fight there all jumped off of a building, (Jason, Batman, Robin, Manhunter, Arrow, and Plastic Man) Jason shoots at everyone and they have a “fight” midair. Then Batman, Robin, and Jason fall through a glass roof and they continue fighting in a pool, this is where I say that they let Jason ran away, they showed us Damian kicking Jason in the face and Bruce punching Jason in the face. But then Jason electrifies both of them while they are in the pool? Listen, this is very nitpicky but Batman and Robin are wearing proper suits for vigilantism, if their suits aren’t prepared to receive some electric shots then wow, but also, the electricity does nothing to Jason even though he is also in the water? Jason’s Red Hood suit at the time was a pair of pants, a shirt, a vest with a hood, and some bandages on his arms… You are telling me that Jason was wearing a suit that protected him from that? Alright, I will believe it, after all, I am very dumb.

Then Jason fights Manhunter, a simple fight apparently, he doesn’t show much fighting skill because she looked like an easy target and then Jason stops fighting and decides to have a nice chat with Lois Lane.

“Why did you run?” I think he ran because a bunch of people accused him of being a terrorist and threw themselves at him at the edge of a building, what kind of question is that?

This page is just, I cannot describe how confusing it is. Lois finally asks that if it isn’t the Red Hood, then why would Leviathan try to set him up? To that Jason answers this, “I was thinking about that on the way down here. Because I am perfect. All this should be me” then he explains “I lose sleep running the numbers in my head, on how measured response to the criminals of the world brings nothing but more chaos. Batman knows this. If this Leviathan is making a big play to change the world, maybe it is the move the “crime-fighters” just don’t, will never have the guts to take. Maybe.”

What. Is. Going. On? Where did this version of Jason come from, this isn’t really in tune with UtRH Jason, RHatO Jason, or RHO Jason. This take on Jason is completely different, Jason doesn’t involve himself with threats on a worldwide scale, he doesn’t care how all heroes around the world operate, and he is not the only one that does things differently from Batman and other heroes that have similar morals.

What is this Jason saying really, is he suggesting that a global terrorist attack can lead to the reconstruction of how heroes work?

Why does Jason think that what Leviathan has going on is similar to things that Jason has done? What did Bendis read that I didn’t? How did Bendis come up with this characterization of Jason?

Because even though RHatO and RHO Jason went beyond Gotham he still fought for things that were directly aligned with his story, Ra’s al Ghul, the Untitled, Essence, all of that wasn’t on a global scale, why is he so suddenly aware of more than that, I just don’t think that his participation in this book is justified.

In these other panels he also comes off as way too aware of what is going on, and I understand that to a certain level all heroes might keep up with what going on a global scale but it seems like Jason knows way too much for someone that hasn’t been connected to those organizations and or people before.

Jason appears a little more after that but nothing of true importance is said anymore in this issue. After, Lois finishes her talk with Jason she reunites with the rest of the team and is like “It wasn’t Red Hood, let’s move on” and that’s that.

That was all Jason did in those two issues. A mix between nothing, knowing too much and him speculating about what a terrorist would want to do next.

Before I give my last thoughts about Jason and these issues, I want to share with you these panels from issue 5 of Event Leviathan.

There, Zatanna and the others confirmed it. Even though Lois listed the Red Hood as a suspect the other detectives told her that not only none of their suspects were Leviathan but that none of them were Leviathan adjacent.

OF COURSE, JASON HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH LEVIATHAN!

Here is what I think, Jason shouldn’t have been in this book, it makes less than zero sense for him to be there. Jason being set up by Leviathan had no logic whatsoever. Jason and Leviathan’s levels of “disruption” are on completely different levels.

I just don’t know why he was there.

Anon, once again I am sorry for taking so long to do this review, I hope you had fun reading this, and I hope that you have an awesome day!

[littledraga]

Moonpie Madness

Testing some background sounds and wrote a loveable Pretend helping Rabbit and Butterfly get what they wanted. Only things never go as plan at Walter Manor. (Too lazy to edit good luck reading xD)

There had been another lab fire. Pretend was pretty sure that was the fourth one this week, and it was only Wednesday. But at least everyone knew how to deal with it, so no one panicked anymore. Well, except Walter Worker Takoda, but he was new.

And while everyone was busy with the fire, Pretend saw a golden opportunity! Sneaking out while most the Workers were down in the labs, she dropped her veil as soon as she stepped off manor ground. No one would suspect a thing, and to Teller, that was all that mattered.

Walking down the street, she passed by humans and nodded where polite, quickly walking to a nearby shop. Butterfly had mentioned that she needed more felt for some hats she was making for Equinox. Which was a little odd after the events at prom, but who was she to judge? And Rabbit had been begging everyone for chocolate moonpies for weeks now. Just a little shopping couldn’t hurt.

Moonpies were easy to find and she grabbed a couple boxes. However, felt was another matter. She’d have to go to a special story for that. But she had been. Butterfly had taken her with to pick some tulle for a new veil.

Taking the bag from the cashier, Teller politely waved and went on her way. The craft store was a much longer walk, but at least she didn’t get tired like a human so it wasn’t so bad and there were lots of shops along the way for her to peek into and see if there was anything interesting for the other robots at Walter Manor.

There was a man on the corner selling kitchen tools and she thought Koutali might like that. There was a jar you slapped to chop what was inside, that might save him some time when he’s cooking!

The craft store was huge! And she couldn’t remember where anything was. It wasn’t long at all she realized she might be a little lost. There was no felt with beads, or at least not the kind you sew with.

Nor were they with the paint, or with baking. Which seemed like a weird thing to have in the store in the first place, but who was she to judge? Isle after isle and eventually she found the fabric! And felt a little silly when she realized it was the whole other half of the store.

A little more looking and she found the felt. Not sure what to get, she got as many colours as she could carry. Which was more than a human could, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Back at the manor, she was quick to drop off the felt first so Butterfly could put it with the others without getting found out.

She didn’t have to go far to find Rabbit since she was getting fitted for a new stage dress and the stuttering automaton cheered when she saw the moonpies. “Y-y-you’re the best!”

Ripping open a box, she was quick to try one, pushing it into her vents. “Th-these are the best! H-here, t-t-t-t-try one!” She stuttered, already starting to overheat a little as she gave each bot one.

For Pretend, it was fine, she could stomach food, even if she couldn’t taste it. Butterfly however couldn’t and held it awkwardly in her hands. “We can’t eat,” she softly reminded Rabbit.

Who, of course, didn’t seem to mind or care at all. “It-it’s okay! I do it all the time and nothing b-b-bad ever happens to me! See?” She explained and shoved another into her vents. She was starting to steam a lot more.

Nervously, Butterfly bit into the moonpie and tried to eat it. She’d never tried before she she wasn’t quiet sure how to chew and chocolate dribbled on her face and onto her skirt. “Mooo,” she muttered, mouth still full as she tried to swallow. It was a lot harder than water.

Pretend was quick to grab some scrap fabric and try and clean up the dress. Only it wasn’t scrap but a shirt Butterfly had made for Soliel to keep her panels open for sunlight and she cried a little louder.

More steam filled the room as Rabbit and Butterfly’s vent clogged. While the trio tried to clean the mess even Butterfly started to stutter and stall. 

Rabbit’s moonpies flew over the floor while she tried to find fabric they could use, opting for her own dress since she wouldn’t mind the chocolate. She knocked over a mannequin as she tried to clean up the shirt.

Butterfly was in a panic and struggling to get to the scrap pile that was suddenly much further away when her movements were halted. She tripped on Rabbit’s dress and stumbled across the floor. Each step was worse than the last as every footfall was onto another fallen moonpie. Chocolate covered the floor, and most of her work. Butterfly’s feet went out from under her when they trapped over the fallen mannequin and she fell onto the unopened box, more chocolate covering her dress and work.

Pretend tried to catch her, only managing to reach too far and fall herself with a loud thud into the trail of chocolate.

As the panic grew, a curious Six knocked on the door before cautiously peeking his head in. He didn’t want to intrude if there was a changing bot, screen or not. “Butterfly? Is everything okay?” Seeing the mess both hands went to his mask. “Science! What’s happened in here?” Chocolate was everywhere and the bots that couldn’t eat were steaming up a storm from clogged vents and stress. Even Pretend was running hot. Clothes were strewn about and torn. It was a right mess!

“Rabbit, how did you get moonpies? You know you can’t have those!”

More steam and she looked away. “I just had them,” she lied.

Pretend pulled herself to her feet and timidly fiddled with her veil, which was answer enough for Six.

“Pretend, you can’t go out alone. You know most the robots can’t eat!” Stepping fully into the room he helped Butterfly to her feet as much as he could. “Come on, the lot of you! Down in the labs. Now that the fires out, we can get you cleaned up.” He looked around the room again as he guided the girls out and sighed. He wasn’t sure how they were going to fix that.

[seokiloquy]

Lost In- What Word? Pt 1 - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Single Parent

Requested

Word Count: 4.5k+

Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, Udai being a meta Furudate insert, just fluff

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Akaashi wasn’t sure if Udai was naturally forgetful, or just held so much anticipation in his smaller form that he glossed over details and didn't realize it. Udai was an excellent author despite not having reached the major public yet. His first published work was short and eerie which most of the shonen reading population didn’t greedily rip off the shelves. Although, those that did read it gave him overwhelming support, maybe the rest of the world wasn’t ready for that kind of psychological horror just yet.

When Akaashi originally applied for a position at the publishing company he intended to work in the literature department, editing lengthy novels and picking out grammatical errors, not reading conversations via text bubbles and looking for continuity errors between images. He never did pick out the exact moment he went from editor to fact-checker and archivist. Akaashi also never knew how many different ways there were to translate a single word until he met you. And once he did, he realized that his eyes would follow you across the office as you ran around and spoke to other editors, helping them furnish their translations so that they flowed properly.

“Tenma, isn’t he meant to be out of the rotation for this panel?” Akaashi couldn’t help but grimace when faced with the utter despair that had pulled on Udai’s typically eased expression. The panel itself was masterfully drawn, taking up two pages and showing off Udai’s immense talent in drawing expressions and anatomy.

“I spent 8 hours on that, only to find out that it needs to be scrapped. What has my life come to?”

The yellow office lights made both of the men’s hair give off a green tinge and made their faces look sickly. Udai frowned as he pushed his chair back and let his chin sit on the table of the small meeting room. His hair curled around his fingers as they gently tugged on the ends of the wavy black stands, straightening them only to let them go and have them bounce back into place.

Akaashi flipped through the printed out pages of the chapter, letting the loose papers lay flat on the table. He pointed to the next pages. “These are fine though. They’re in the right rotation here, so not all is lost at least.”

Udai sighed, as he threw his weight back into the chair, making it spin with his momentum. “That’s all well and good, but I was really proud of that panel. It was going to be the attention grabber.”

Akaashi pursed his lips gently, flipping through the pages once more before tucking them into the pale yellow folder and closing it. Udai’s new story was in its beginning stages, only having a sample chapter that would be published in the following week’s magazine, that is if they got it done in time. 

“It needs to be perfect. I can’t have this not work and starve for the rest of my life.”

Akaashi opened his mouth slightly, taking in a deep breath, ready to spout out his words of encouragement for his colleague when there was a knock on the door followed by the soft creaking of the hinges as it opened.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask Udai about some of the uh… what’s the word? Dang, I’m supposed to know Japanese, it’s my job. The— I give up. Help?”

Udai chuckled and waved you over to take the seat opposite him, you shook your head and bowed slightly as your hand raised, saying you were alright, not needing the chair. Leaning down slightly you pointed at the ruff sketch copy in your hand where your current author’s handwriting seemed to over the edges of the text bubble slightly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but how in the hell am I supposed to translate ‘paisen’?”

The innocent question seemed to brighten Udai’s mood much more than Akaashi’s monotone words of support would have. The older man launched backwards, nearly flinging himself off the chair, in a fit of laughter. His hands gripped the shirt he wore above his stomach and chest as they tried to ease the laughing pains.

Akaashi chuckled at the sight before looking at your somewhat regretful expression, you were probably too used to your co-workers laughing at your in-fluency at Japanese. “You can probably substitute a familiar nickname or a joking reference of respect.”

You sighed and brushed your hand over the back of your neck, “I swear, Himari had the intent to torture me with this last chapter. Thank you, Akaashi.”

Finally calmed from his fit of giggles, Udai sat straight in his chair and sent you a gracious smile. “Well, at least when you join our team I won’t torture you as much.”

You gave Udai and Akaashi a teasing smirk as you reached for the door handle. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “Besides, you need to get the attention of the readers before I join your team. No point in translating a comic that doesn’t even get off the ground right?”

You sent them a wink and the door closed behind you with a quiet click.

“Was that a challenge?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi said, handing Udai a blank sheet of paper. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

The office was, as it was the day before, and the day before that, calm. Udai sat in a small isolated office on his own with a naturally coloured lamp hanging over his hunched figure. The rest of his team, including Akaashi and now you as well, sat outside his door in a row of cubicles that led up to a large window that took up the entirety of the wall. In the corner cubicle, pressed against the window and directly across from him, you sat, typing away on your computer as you translated the Japanese text into Wild Words fonted English. 

“Akaashi, is the end of chapter ready to translate?” Your head peeked over the frosted cubicle wall, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and the corner of your eyes pinching together. Akaashi’s gaze fluttered around.

“Ah, Ya the edits are done so you can finish translating it now.”

The smile you wore only seemed to grow, making Akaashi want to turn away and stare at the same time. The sun’s light contrasted with the dull rectangular lights in the office, making your skin glow. Your fingers tightened on the top of the glass and your shoulders rose to your ears, you narrowly missed knocking over an owl keychain that hung on his side of the wall.

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get them done now.”

The day continued like this, everyone working and occasionally calling out to each other through their cubed walls, possibly getting a twirling pen in the forehead followed by a meek apology (coming from you). Every time you spoke to someone you would rise out of your seat to make eye contact with them, refusing to continue speaking otherwise, and even though he wasn’t the person you always spoke to, each time your head began to poke out of your squared corner Akaashi couldn’t help but turn his attention your way, watching as the sun's light danced around you. It didn’t come to a surprise when, like every instance before, Akaashi looked up when you shot up from your seat. Only this time there was a frantic look plastered unevenly on your face, one that the warm light didn’t compliment.

“Please tell me my clock is wrong and that it’s not 4 pm.”

Chiyo leaned back in her chair, setting down her Cintiq’s pen and flipped the watch on her wrist so that the face faced her. “Yup, it’s actually 4:15.”

Akaashi was surprised to hear a not so work friendly English curse leave your lips as you rushed to save files on your computer while simultaneously packing your purse. You continued to swear as you ran out of your cubicle and toward the elevators with a quick “goodbye” being thrown over your shoulder. The office was quiet.

“Does that happen often?” Ena asked as he pulled off his glasses.

The group of artists and their editor sat in stunned silence for a few moments, minds racing over where the young translator had scurried off to. In their collaborative confusion, the team slowly went back to their respective jobs.

Himari came around the corner of the office, coffee in hand, as she chatted with her editor, who was nursing his own mug. The writer looked up for her conversation to see Udai’s team and gave them a polite nod. They were going to meekly return to their work when Himari paused her steps and looked at the empty plush chair that sat rotated and untucked in your cubicle.

“Oh, did (Y/N) leave?” to Akaashi’s surprise, Himari was not.

“Does she do that often?” he asked, setting down his pen on the counter of his desk.

Himari nodded, smiling, “Oh ya, sometimes she gets lucky and her friend can handle it but a lot of the time she has to run out of here by 3.” Akaashi’s brow furrowed slightly as Himari took a sip of her coffee before continuing waving her hand by her head, “Don’t worry too much about it though, she always comes in early to get her work done.”

Before they could question further, Himari was off with her editor sending them a knowing smile.

When the end of the workday rolled around, only 45 minutes after your quick departure, Akaashi found his eyes trailing back to his phone that sat at the corner of his desk on top of a stack of papers. Keeping watch on his phone, he swung his bag over his shoulder and shut off his computer. The device remained silent as the team began to pile out of their seats, toward the elevators and in a fit of contemplation, he reached for the phone.

Your response was quick and vague; Family thing, happens often. I’ll tell you later. See you tomorrow!

After the sample comic was released, Udai was thrown when he received an immense amount of interest for his characters and story, and he was even more excited when he received word from the magazine’s publishers that they wanted him to continue with the path he was on. The months building up to this moment were filled with constant plot revisions, reference excursions, and interviews until they came to a conclusive framework of the story, and continued introductions as new members were added to their original duo to make the workload less hefty. 

Today though was the day that the story’s first chapter would finally be released to the public. 

Akaashi tracked into the office, heading to the lounge to grab a coffee before coming up to his cubicle against the window and setting his bag down, immediately heading to the lounge. 8:40 in the morning, 20 minutes before the expected time of arrival, Akaashi, back at his desk, was just about to take a sip of coffee when a small snore overlapped the sound of the air conditioners, creating a dishonest harmony. 

On the other side of the frosted glass wall of the cubicle was you, head resting on the black mouse pad that had a small plush cushion for your wrist. Akaashi quickly rounded the desks, coming to our side to gently rouse you from your slumber before your co-workers arrived. He was to wake you up gently with a hand on your shoulder, that was the plan. The plan changed when he noticed the small picture frame on your desk, surrounded by various action figures and Funko pops.

With one hand on your shoulder and the other holding the fame, he studied the photo with a kind gaze. He was so enthralled with the image that he forgot that below his other hand, was you.

“He’s cute ain’t he?” you asked, startling the editor back to his current reality as you stretched, arching your back like a cat. Akaashi’s attention was brought back to the current situation as you reached out for another frame in the opposite corner of your desk. “His name is Naoko. Here, this photo is newer.”

The young boy in the new photo looked like you a lot, more so than the previous one where he was just an infant that carried more resemblance to a potato than a human. Akaashi, without taking his eyes off the pictures, pulled the chair out from under Ena’s desk and sat next to you. He didn’t say anything, deciding just to admire the photos he held and letting you decide whether or not he should have the pleasure of hearing a story.

You sighed and yawned, leaning over the armrest of your chair so you would see them too. “He’s six, really quiet. I moved here when I found out. Hardly even out of university, and I was already pregnant with some strangers kid,” you laughed, making Akaashi stare at your features for a moment, wanting to point out which ones could be found on the boy.

“Is he the reason you moved to Japan?” Akaashi was a little taken aback by your willingness to talk, but in hindsight, you didn’t seem like the person to keep secrets, often rattling with your co-workers about your interests. Thinking back, maybe he should have expected something like this, Himari seemed to have known after working with you for several years, happily dancing around the topic of your personal life with your new coworkers when your sudden departure was questioned.

You shrugged, “not entirely, but he sure was a good excuse. I had plans to move to Japan for years before I even got into university. When I found out, I was sort of… uh. English…. Fuck, I need a job. So I applied to be an intern here, moved in with a friend I met online and prepared to have a baby.” Your arms flew about as you talked.

“You act as though it was easy,” Akaashi laughed, placing the frames back onto the table.

You let out a happy chuckle and spun your chair to face Akaashi head-on, eyes not leaving his, “I wouldn’t say it was easy, per se, but I’m happy with how things turned out.” you yawned a bit, “I should also apologize for running out of the office early sometimes, I have to pick Naoko up from school so —”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” The gentle smile he wore was contagious.

It was 8:50 when the rest of the team came in. Immediately catching sight of Ena, Akaashi pulled away from your side, rolling the chair back to its respective location. He heard a breathy laugh escape you as he scurried around the desks to return to his designated spot across from you, cardigan flailing about.

The rest of your team piled into their seats sending the two of you waves and morning greetings. Ena nearly dropped his ‘don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ mug as he tripped over his rubber slides just before reaching his desk next to yours.

Sending your friends a smile you quickly slid back into your cubicle to re-adjust the frames on your desk with a yawn. Akaashi gave you a nod when you looked up to his stiff, still standing, form. You made his heart feel much weaker than he’d like to admit and without saying another word, he picked up the forgotten mug filled with brown liquid and handed it over the glass, into your hands.

Naoko was much more reserved than Akaashi expected, definitely a contrast to your more hyper personality. He spent most of the day sitting in the corner behind your cubicle where a table was set up next to a row of cabinets. What the boy was doing, Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure, but there was a small tickle at that back of his brain that made him want to find out.

When you had come in that morning, the group was surprised to see the small boy trailing behind you, holding onto your hand tightly with the both of his. “PD day,” you said. Udai spent the first few minutes of the day gushing over the boy’s cheeks instead of working, only to end up being backtracked and having to cram into his lunch break. Akaashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that though.

“What do you have there?” he asked, taking a seat next to the boy and setting down his lunch next to the younger’s bento box.

Naoko curled in on himself, bringing the phone (that was most definitely yours) to his chest. The boy’s knees had pulled up to his shoulders as his feet pushed on the edge of the chair. Akaashi sent the young boy a kind smile and waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see your chair turn around as you took in the sight of your son and co-worker. He watched as you began making large swinging motions with your arms. Akaashi tried not to laugh.

Whatever had been playing on the phone hadn’t been paused in the short time given to do so, making the familiar sound ring quietly around the two of them. 

Akaashi looked back your way for a moment, only to see you tilt your head up in a supporting nudge and turn back around.

“Are you watching a volleyball game?” he asked, rousing a more positive reaction from the boy.

Naoko’s shoulders lowered and he slowly placed the phone down between them. As Akaashi had concluded, a volleyball game played on the small screen. He put forward another question.

“Do you like to play?”

The six-year-old shrugged but nodded before scooting his chair in closer and reaching for his food. Akaashi mirrored him, slipping off his collared cardigan and pulling his lunch closer, still watching the game.

“I used to play volleyball.” This caught the boy’s attention, who turned his head to look at Akaashi, brows raised and lips pursed. “I was a setter.”

Naoko swallowed his food and for the first time, Akaashi got to hear him speak.

“I like playing setter too.”

His voice was rather meek and had a sort of authority to it, but the biggest thing he noticed made him stifle a laugh.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he called gently, making you spin your chair around in question. “Why is Naoko better at Japanese then you?”

“Hey! That’s mean!”

Naoko began to wiggle in his seat, desperately trying not to laugh at his mother’s, your, irritation. You shot a look at your son and gasped.

“Don’t you start laughing at me. I speak English better than you do.”

“You don’t need to speak English in Japan, mom.”

Kaashi continued to choke on his laugher as you pushed the palm of your hand into your forehead. “I’m being teased by my own son,” you cried quietly, turning your chair back around to face the unedited pages.

Naoko giggled and looked back Akaashi’s way. “Can you teach me?”

Akaashi didn’t see you still in your chair, listening.

“Of course I can.”

“Udai, seriously? You promised that you weren’t going to use weird industry term slang stuff on me.”

With a wide-eyed look and hair messily tied back, the man in question rotated his chair around childishly. “I never promised. I just said I'd go easier on you.” It was infuriating really. 

With a pitiful whine, you shook the rough script in your hand making an angry fluttering sound. “You’re so mean Tenma. You know that I have trouble with slang.”

Udai only laughed and waved you off, “It’s a good way to learn is it not?”

You rolled your eyes but relented, giving a wave and closing the door. Once at your seat Akaashi poked his head out, eyes visible over the top of his square-framed glasses.

“He did it again?”

“Ya,” you huffed. “I can’t blame him though. It’s just frustrating that I can’t remember what a lot of the words mean. I should buy a dictionary.” Akaashi watched as you turned your monitor on. “Oh, um, Naoko was asking about you the other day.”

“Really?”

Your hands came together behind your neck, pulling your head down bashfully. “Ya, he’s been wanting to show you how he’s doing and maybe get the chance to learn a bit from you.”

Akaashi gave you a kind smile, so small that it didn’t even crease his cheeks, and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Your cheeks warmed as you beamed up at him before turning your head down towards your computer screen. Akaashi took a second to appreciate how the cool light from the overcast sky made you look. It was silent in the office for a moment. Just a moment.

“Udai! Another one?!”

In theory, so long as you have space above your head, you can play volleyball anywhere. Your apartment wasn’t ‘anywhere’.

The three-bedroom living space was built as housing and not an Olympic arena, and after breaking one too many of your glasses playing around, it was made clear to you, Naoko, and your sport junky roommate, that volleyball shouldn’t be allowed in the house.

“You guys can go play volleyball with Akaashi at the park, no?” Yukie asked, grabbing an onigiri of the large plate on your kitchen counter and stuffing it in her face. You made a large dinner that day, only to have your friend eat most of it, instead of leaving leftovers for Naoko’s lunch. Not that he complained about it, you sure did though.

Taking Yukie’s words to heart, when the weekend rolled around and Naoko was becoming more anxious, you invited Akaashi to your neighbourhood park to play volleyball.

“Open your elbows a bit more, make a triangle with your hand, and when the ball comes just cushion it with your fingertips before sending it out, okay?”

Naoko nodded, staring at his hands that were being moved around by the older player. Akaashi’s form was kneeled by the boy’s side, his head nearly resting on the younger's shoulder as he tried to make sure he was in the right position.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the smaller than average volleyball off of the grass. “I’m gonna toss this to you, do you think you can get it to hit my hand right up here?”

Naoko nodded again, eagerly waiting for the blue and yellow ball to come flying his way. You watched silently from the park bench as Naoko tried (and often failed) to get the ball to touch Akaashi’s hand accurately. 

“Almost there, you got this Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

Earnestly waiting to see the next move, you sat forward in your seat, watching as that ball made a tall arch towards Naoko’s waiting palms. As the ball made contact with his fingertips, he bent his elbows and wrists before shooting them out into a straight line, sending into the palm of Akaashi’s hand before dropping back onto the grassy field.

Your son, as most six-year-olds do when accomplishing something, shrieked. He shrieked very loudly before sprinting directly into Akaashi’s stomach to give him a (breath-stealing) hug. Akaashi coughed as he tried to get air back into his depleted lungs. From the side you giggled, watching as Naoko’s smile grew, head buried into Akaashi’s stomach.

It became standard, going out to the park during your off days. And this day, like the weekends that have come before, the routine of going to the park, ball in hand, continued. But after spending an hour or so watching the familiar movement of the yellow and blue ball fly through the air, Naoko interrupted the serene setting with a loud request.

“Mama! Mom! Can we go get onigiri?”

Looking up from resting your neck on the back of the bench to turn your gaze onto the energetic boy that was hopping around on the grass. “I’m okay with that, but you should probably ask Akaashi along. We don't want to leave him at the park do we?” you teased, picking up your bag and walking toward the two.

Naoko spun again to look at Akaashi, whose hands were now tucked into his jeans pockets. “Please!” he wailed. “Come with us! Please, please, please, please, please!”

Akaashi let out a hearty laugh. “Calm down, I’ll join you.” without saying another word, Akaashi offered his hand out, letting Naoko clutch it eagerly.

“Udai are you sure it’s okay to bring Naoko along? This is meant to be a work trip and I’d hate for him to dis… dic… get in the way,” you gave up at the end, sighing over your tripping words.

Udai gave Naoko, who had been clinging to Akaashi’s arm since all of you had met outside the city gymnasium, a pat on the head. “It’s alright. Besides, he’ll probably be a great resource.” 

You nodded and watched as Naoko rattled to Akaashi about his school team and new things they had been practicing. You pouted. Upon their arrival, Ena, Chiyo and the others immediately began teasing you for effectively losing your son’s favour, which didn’t make your whining any less audible. On top of that, the group of artists found your sullen look to be a perfect reference, taking their cameras out.

“Keiji,” you cried, following behind the rest of the group as they waltzed through the gym entrance along with the crowd. “You’ve stolen my son.”

Akaashi paused for a moment, taking in a calm breath before looking over his shoulder. “He’s your son, I can’t steal that from you.”

Naoko threw a large smile over his shoulder, making your dragging steps falter.

When did it change? The expression on his face. When did it become so happy? Did he not smile before?

You picked up your pace, brows furrowed as you watched your son chatter happily.

When did he start speaking so much? Since when did he have so much to say? Was it something new in his diet? Or maybe the new friends on his volleyball team?

You found your gaze shifting to the hand that held his. Without thinking about it too hard, you quickened your steps to come up to Naoko’s other side. Your heart pounded as you held your closest hand out for him to grab hold of. When he finally did, immediately looking forward to dragging the two adults with him, the smile you gave Akaashi was the largest he’s ever seen coming from you. 

You looked back at all of your interconnecting hands fondly.

When did he become another person’s son?

I tried going a bit of a different direction with this one in comparison to most Single Parent aus. I’ll admit it could have more meat to it, but oh well, things to improve on. 

Question:

Do you prefer weekly one-shots that are shorter in length (like we’re doing) or longer ones with bigger plots and inconsistent updates (Sort of like “Catch Me If You Can” and “Ready Aim FIre” but longer)? 

- Bacon

Posted: 31/07/2020

[grim-faux]

2 _ 28 _ Uncontested Foe  

First

 TW For uncontrolled bleeding. Nothing graphic, but tread carefully readers.

The kitchen had edibles to offer, despite the condition it was in. The walls washed with mist, the paneling long drenched and warped at corrupt angles. With each step the floor creaked and bent beneath the delicate echo of his step, thus it was best if he remained still for the time. Not much was enlisted to pass the time, while the child rifled through an upper cabinet prying at packaging and boxes. If not for the passive crinkle of a bag ripping, gently, the child might not exist at all.

 If not for the face peering out beneath the cupboard door, searching for movement, he could almost forget the boy was there at all.

 This was the first time in the last few days (hours?) that the child held still. To sit and chew through a ridiculous and puzzling weight of foods. Where did he put it all? The Thin Man struggled to make sense and calculate the grams to the childs's mass, but found himself unable to reach a feasible solution. As well, he didn’t fully grasp what all Mono was going through.

 Not for the first time, the child dropped from the inner shelf and carried over a small package of something viable. He made it to the edge of the counter, nearest to where the Thin Man stood. Another miniscule grunt escaped the boy, as he landed from a substantial height, token in arm. When he reached the Thin Man, he balanced to bag above his head and shook it.

 The Thin Man sighed through the distortions of vibrations. This was becoming a superfluous habit. “No child. I don’t need that.”

 Another shake of the package. Then, the child hoisted it down and gave it a look. His gaze flashed back to the tall thin man, the eyes moving beneath the side of his hat. He raised the package and inched closer to his shoes.

 “N’t good?” he whispered. “T's Diff’ErNT?”

 “No. Nothing.” He did reach low and retrieved the package. Only to liberate the child of this odd little duty, so he could scramble back to his normal job in the kitchen. He placed the bag on the table, among the others that the child had brought over to him. There were quite a few. “You need to stop doing this.”

 Redirecting his view to the child, the Thin Man presumed for the time Mono was finished with the task. The child huddled in the notch beside the row of cabinets, where the wall and cabinet side connected. After fluffing out his coat a bit, the boy began chewing at his toenails.

 With a grimace, the Thin Man decided to find a more hospitable... room. He detached form beside the dining room table and bypassed the rows of cabinetry, the floor cupboards cracked or bent by perpetual saturation. He shifted with a buzz and arrived at an access, fitted with steps leading to a smaller room not far below. In one casual step he's up to his ankles in flooding, the room opened up to spacious dimensions, one wall dominated by windows. 

 A splash draws his attention down, where Mono now wadded through the murky shallows. The child trailed to the opposite wall and some furniture, climbing onto a waterlogged couch. When the Thin man resume moving, the boy slipped back into the water and followed. The Thin Man doesn't try to dissuade the little wreck.

 In one of the cracked frames hung the disjointed body of a creature; an adult with a stocky short build and wild, bent arms. It was coiled in a tattered comforter, arms knotted into painful angles against its sides. He’s not certain what came about, but he pressed a suspicious eye Mono’s way. There was the incriminating arm the boy held above his head, as he treaded the shallows – up to his waist. His sleeve sliding back, revealed a fresh bandage. That wound was old, though it was not new, from the day before? He didn’t see where the child received it let alone when, it was not there when he managed to get the kid to sleep. He only suspected its existence after finding blood smudges on the floor, and managed to wrestle the child in for an examination (these dramas were so over the top).

 All of this goes dismissed. These pieces of a puzzle wouldn’t add up, and the child denied there was an injury when he inquired about it. He was ready to accept that nothing the child did would ever make sense.

 Another set of steps led up into a new room, sprawling with rectangular boxes and discarded water damage. As of yet, the residence did not receive the thorough examination like it should. Aside from whatever Mono got up to, in the Thin Man’s absence. He merely came upon the area, once he located the child, following another cacophony event.

 Aside from a collapsed portion of the ceiling and the dire creak of the structure, the perimeter was altogether secure. The lights flickered upon the Thin Man’s proximity, but with a nudge of electrical assuage, the frequency soothed.

 Mono glanced around at the dull illumination, his sights drifting over the box littered by the walls. Curiosity engaged, he hurried to the nearest and gave the base a thorough examination, likely seeking a panel or opening to enter. The Thin Man doubted this, as the box gave enticing frequencies and tampering.

 Touching one box afforded the screen in its center to gleam encouraged. Hmm.

 A tug pried at his slacks, but he disregarded it for a moment. The Thin Man bent over to touch the buttons, the controls. An eroded and garbled tune played out.

 “Noise,” Mono rasped, with a small amount of urgency.

 “It’s safe,” he assured. “Nothing will follow it. I’m here.” At current Mono was trying to scale the side of the machine, conflict set in his features.

 With a little cub of effort, the screen flashed with a botched and distorted image. The years of waiting and moisture had its hand in play, but the screen and interior components remained tethered enough that he could remind them what life was like. He had to momentarily shift his focus to the floor, Mono was trying to climb up his dress pants. He untangled the boy by gripping the collar of his coat and hoisted him up to the screen face. At first the smaller one was spooked by the warped images flashing beneath the Thin Man’s persuasion, the chitter and pulse of noises. The Thin Man set a hand to his back and steadied him, before he could topple off.

 “Speek.”

 “Hmm.” The Thin Man wasn’t sure, but it was something. As the Broadcaster, he had insight of such things. It was a distraction from escape.

 By touching the buttons and moving the dial, he could control the pixilated figure in the screen. He couldn’t define fully what it was doing among the jungle terrain of blocks and polygons, but it was making noises. Not a lot. The box which housed the mechanics sputtered and hummed, drawing on the Thin Man’s current and receiving some stability.

 Mono moved a little onto the screen, trying to push his way through. When that didn’t work, he checked the Thin Man’s hands and the way the image complied. “Game,” he offered.

 “Not.” Though the denial was uncertain. He looked at the buttons the Thin Man toggled between. “Do.” And pressed at one. When the effigy responded, he kept pressing the button. In a short span he tired of that, and returned to the screen, practically sitting over the surface to observe.

 The Thin Man tugged Mono off the screen by his coat back, only enough to see more of what he was doing. He was unsure of the games purpose, of what he was trying to achieve through the movement of the caricature. Usually these games held a simple goal, but reaching it was another matter.

 As he moved the abominable character on the screen, Mono became disinterested. His focus settled on the controls, likely wondering how—

 An abrupt and distorted shriek blurted out of the apparatus, causing the Thin Man to recoil. Before he could react, Mono shot off the surface and ducked out of sight. The machine was still screeching all to the Tower, and the Thin Man swept an arm over it and shut the whole thing off.

 “Mono?” he tried, gently. And a little irritated, under his breath, “Ț̴̐h̴͈̚a̷̹̿ţ̵̑ ̶̺͝Ẁ̷̹a̵͈͗s̸̙̈ ̶̜̂N̸̯͋ô̷̱t̷̮͒ ̷̞̄S̶̪̉u̵̱͂p̵̛̻p̸̧͗o̴̧̔s̸͚͌e̵̦͋d̷̩̐ ̸̠̊T̴̠̽o̷̳ ̵͕̆H̴̠̉ą̵͝p̷̻p̴̬̎e̵͚̾n̶͕͗.̵̹” He glanced the room over, he could sense the child but he was having some difficulty locking on his exacts. “There is no danger. It’s safe.” In his peripheral something skittered by, but when he closed in on the space under some table box thing, the tinge of transmission was lost.

 He did not want to go rooting for this child again. How long it took to relocate him, he was uncertain. The child seemed receptive to his reappearance, which was heartening. In the same instance, disheartening as well. The child inflicted a strange smile.

 After a bit more going through the room, at last Mono was located in the cracked hollowed base of one machine, were the wall had caved inward and the serrated edges tore the plastic siding off. Mono was crammed among the wires and debris, with both arms plastered under his chin. He blinked at the Thin Man, his hat gone stray.

 “That was not my intent,” the Thin Man insisted. “I didn’t know it would do that.” It wasn’t as if the contraption was enjoyable, he thought the child would take interested in it. A lot of good that did. “Won’t you come here?”

 Mono wasn’t receptive to emerging yet. He turned his back to the Thin Man and wedged himself in a little more. He set his eyes over his shoulder.

 “Please, Mono. Don’t be this way.” He put his hands down. “It’s safe. Let me see you.”

 A little muffled, Mono croaked, “Not.”

 The Thin Man suppressed a reflex to tamper with something electrical. He reflected that may have been what drew the child to this building, the machines. The lot was out of commission, but the outlets still carried a current.

 “Should I wait? Do you need your rest?” Some little croon rolled out of Mono, and the boy ducked his head down. This riled some concern from the Thin Man, and he reached out to snag the child by the elbow. The boy gave a subdued whine when he was pried loose of his space, he snapped his sleeve free of the Thin Man’s fingers and brought his wrist back to his mouth. He lapped at the blood already trailing loose, trying to stifle the flow and duck out of view once more. But the Thin Man had already seen.

 For the hundredth time, he cursed the Signal Tower.

 “Child. Don’t do that.” The Thin Man didn’t waste any time to snare Mono around the waist and hauled him out. Immediately, the boy flailed his arms and clawed at his cufflinks. He was getting blood everywhere. Up until he shoved his arm back to his mouth. “No. No-No-No-NoNoNo….” He held Mono one handed, while his fingers pried the arm from his face. “That’s not good.”

 “Nah.”

 “No!” The Thin Man moved as quickly as he could muster, teleporting through the drowned room, and returned to the kitchen. He tore the few discarded dishes out of the sink chucked them aside, before dumping Mono into the basin. “Be still.” The child flapped his arms at the grungy sides, making an assortment of animalistic sounds that were hardly coherent. The Thin Man turned the water on, a gush of brown dredge rushed out. With a sharp swipe, he moved the faucet aside. “Coat. Off. Cooperate Mono. No biting!”

 In short, it did not go well.

 Blood was everywhere. Mono wouldn’t hold still or stay put in the sink, he clawed at the surface edge while the Thin Man wrestled the offended arm out of his ‘care’. The most that he made of it, the cut was reopened or worsened by the child’s fall – likely the latter. It wouldn’t stop bleeding, though the surface and depth were not nearly as bad as the one Mono took when avoiding the man in the hat.  How did he manage this? Not only was he trying to stifle the bleeding and clean out remnants of dirt, Mono’s face was covered in blood. Thankfully(?) it was his this time. Once the faucet cleared out of residual rust, he adjusted the waters intensity and moved the crisp flow over to the child.

 “Cold. H’rt—” Mono yelped.

 “S̸̘͊t̸͇͐ọ̸͘p̴̻ ̴̙̂W̴̜͋r̶̩̓i̶̜̎g̵͗ͅḡ̸̭ĺ̴̮î̴̤n̴͎͌g̵͕̔,̶̭̇ that is not helping.” The Thin Man was trying to have patience and use a practiced hand, but this was far more difficult with a resistant patient. Not only resistant, but in denial.

 “Not. H’rt! Stop!"

 “I’m looking at a gash bigger than a fissure.” Overstatement. Mono thrashed against his grip, futile as it was. And the biting. Whenever he could manage a nip, he got one in. Somewhere in this chaos, he managed to get a portion of the coat off Mono’s shoulder, so he could get easier access to the full damage. He wanted to supply a firm bandage, and figure out how to stop the steady weeping. However, he knew the moment he gave Mono the time of day, the child would vanish. Honest, he’s shocked the building was still standing despite the horrendous injustice the kid endured. Likely he was mostly agitated, not threatened.

 “Cold. Herrt.” Mono twisted over and kicked the faucet aside.

 The Thin Man collected him from the sink and began going through drawers, rooting for inspiration. In the third slot he snapped open, he narrowed his eyes.

 “If you don’t cease this, I W̵̲͒ǐ̵̮l̸̥͆ḻ̸͆ bundle you up,” the Thin Man crackled, the lamp dangling by its tattered cord pulsing, “And H̸̱̓á̴̞n̴̢͠ġ̴̘ ̴̗̚Y̵̰̊ó̵̲û̸̡ you from the ceiling.” The child persisted to scrabble and lash at anything that wasn’t the Thin Man, eyes averted. “And leave. Then! Y̷̯͌o̷̒͜ů̴̬ ̷̢͆C̶̥̋a̷̜̒n̶͕ ̶̠͊F̷̗i̶̺̽g̷̤̑u̶̯͐r̴̤̿e̵̟̍ ̸̻̔Ý̷̰ó̷̙u̶͉͝r̵̖͝ś̵̯e̷͇̒ḽ̵́ḟ̷̯ ̴̠͝O̵̪̕ṳ̴̎t̴͜͝ ̶̳Ō̷͇f̶̬̏ ̶̡̉T̵̫͘ḧ̷͓́ä̶͎t̶̬͐.̸̧̎”

 “Not. Aam’not.” Mono gave an indignant howl when he was pushed down onto the countertop.

 And wrapped tightly into a dishtowel. The Thin Man was ever cautious to certify the red washed arm was extracted, as with the bind not being hazardous. With the way the boy squirmed, he didn’t think it was possible to make the bundle tight enough.

 At long last Mono lay secure and going nowhere, the Thin Man could bring out a few more of the cleanest dishtowels and began ripping them to ribbons. He tied another towel around the child, given that this boy refused to cease wriggling, and was trying to use the damaged arm to undo the outer fold at his backside. This did not calm Mono at all, not in his wild thoughts did he suspect it would, but he could in the least work and minimize blood loss.

 When Mono was too tuckered to fight with the horrendous foe towel, the Thin Man dropped a soft rag on his head and dried out some of the excess water. At least the wrap would percolate the saturation of the lads clothing, though Mono was already soaked in the first place. At least his clothing was clean-Er.

 The Thin Man sighed and undid the flap shielding the essential limb. He took the pieces of absorbent cloth and layered down one cover, then took the ribbons and began wrapping. Languidly, the child made an effort to draw his arm away from the work, but the Thin Man grumbled and applied a firmer grip to Mono’s shoulder.

 “D̴̪͌o̸͍̅ń̸͔'̴̢̓t̴̻͒.” The Thin Man focused himself and lessened some of the pressure. “We’ll cover this, so you won’t have to look at it. Or work on it,” the Thin Man uttered, as he tied the ends. “Does that hurt?”

 Mono sniffled. “Not,” he rasped. He wasn’t accustomed to making such volume, and likely was unsettled by it. He wouldn’t look at the Thin Man. A pitiful whimper curdled in his throat.

 “You must take it easy. No moving. No searching. Your arm is badly hurt, and that demands some mending.” He touched Mono’s hand lightly, and the child winced as if delivered a sharp blow. “Next time, D̷̝̕o̷̲̚ ̷̞̇A̷̘͌s̵͉̈́ ̸͑͜I̵̻͘ ̸͚́S̵͓̅ḁ̷̐y̴̘̌.̸̧̋” He also wanted to mention, Mono looked ridiculous wrapped up this way. Like a little burrito. It would do well to get the child untied and soothed, but he was realistic. It was likely the boy would dash off into a secluded corner or hole in the wall to isolate for….

 Worst of all, even if Mono wasn’t about to fuss with the bandage, in his haste he child might knock his limb and make the bleed worse. “Mono? Listen to me. Are you paying attention? Child?”

 Curious, the Thin Man aligned his view with the child’s gaze and found the clutter of filthy dishware discarded, from the sink. It barely occurred to him then, that he’s in a kitchen and Mono is bundled up tightly, on a cutting board.

 “Let’s… go to a different room.” The child was trembling through and through, as he carried him to a space far distant from the sight and smells of the kitchen.

 A spare room survived the flooding and pseudo wetland transformation much of the residence suffered, though the carpet was still damped. The Thin Man was ever cautious of such accidents or incidents, and assured that no live lines tampered with the conductive shallows when water invaded the buildings. Some furniture through the room remained altogether – a tall cabinet or squat drawer set might provide enticing cover for the child if he got away, but from what the Thin Man gathered, exits would be limited. He could only brace himself.

 He bent over to set Mono on a frumpy couch and began unwinding the tight bind around his shoulders. Even before the child was fully loose, he tried to bolt away. But the Thin Man snared him around the waist and knelt beside the couch.

 “Child, this is tiresome.” He let Mono keep his feet on the cushion. It’s a small wonder this boy wasn’t thrashing like a burning leech, though he was pushing at the cushion with his heels. “If you disappear and force me to search you out once more, I will make the decision for you and go. I will never look back, I̸̪̽ ̵̼͠W̸̧̐í̷̬l̷̞͝l̵̮͆ ̷̭͝N̴̤̉e̴̹̓v̶̤͝ẻ̸͉ŗ̵͊ ̴̺̄T̴̻̃h̵̤̔i̷̤n̶̟͑k̷̨̆ ̶̼͗A̵̤̔b̷̞̋o̸̖͐u̷͖͐t̸̢̿ ̵̙̽Y̸̙̓ò̶̺u̷͎͂ ̴͊͜A̷͙̋g̴̏ͅá̸̘i̸͙̓n̵̞̔. I have been extremely lenient thus far.”

 “Not heert. Aam not. T’hur-t.” The child was in the process of trying to pry a finger loose. This wasn’t going well.

 “I am fed up with this. Accept that your arm needed tending, or I’ll leave right. You can T̷͔̐r̷͙̍ỳ̵̤ to follow, O̷͙̐r̴͔̋ ̵̘͆N̶̞̈o̶͉̕t̵͖̒. I really don’t care.” After a wait, Mono did cease his failed escape. He slumped with his bandaged arm tucked under his chin, maybe debating chewing on the bandage. That, or on the fingers locked around him. “Are you mad at me?” The child nodded. “For what reason?” An answer came, but not quickly.

 “D’nt Hurt.”

 The Thin Man grunted. This child…. He rubbed Mono’s coatless shoulder with his thumb, pondering this opposition. Ironic, how even in a situation where the boy could grasp his presence was benign, the child remained defiant and driven against the elder’s best intuition. Many factors perpetuated the cycle, one being the baseless intolerance for the other, and inability for coexistence. Somewhere he read that opposites attract, in that case then same’s repelled.

 The boy fidgeted and ducked his head down.

 “You are resistant to my aid. That is made explicitly clear,” the Thin Man muttered. “However, I have no intent to sit out as a spectator while you gnaw your arm like an animal.”

 “Don’t.” Mono tugged against the hands holding him. “N’t hert. Leggo.” When he is released, Mono didn’t squander an ounce of a second to lunge into the corner of the couch and wound himself into his coat, head tucked between his knees. He glared out as the Thin Man glided to the opposite side and took a seat. Slouched, a hand pressed to his forehead and the impressive hat fitted far back.

 After a spell of quiet, Mono took the time to study his new bandage. It was tight, but not painful. He put his teeth to it and nibbled the frayed thread.

 “The simplest of tasks you overcomplicate,” the Thin Man hummed, static vibrating. “You never rest when I tell you to, I practically have to nail you down before you‘ll sleep.”

 “Bhh.” Mono fitted his coat back on over his shoulder and leaned more on the couch, exhausted and head dizzy. “Pract’lee. Ev’t’ild. Down. Sleep.” He swung his head up and regarded the bent figure. “R’to sleep?” The Thin Man slipped the hand from his forehead down, to cover his face – the light in the rooms corner flashed. “Am watch.”

 A growl rolled through the sizzling current. “Y̶͖̾ô̷͎u̶̪̔ ̷̪̓A̶͒ͅṟ̷̏ẽ̶͍ ̴͕̒S̶̗̐ũ̶͙p̵̭͂p̷̳͊o̵̧͠s̵̬͝è̷͕d̸̫͘ ̴͜͝Ț̵͋o̸͖̍ ̷̨̊S̶̪̑l̶͔͗é̷͖e̶̢̛p̶̹̏.”

 It was always confusing dealing with the Thin Man when he was like this. Everything Mono did annoyed the man in the hat, but he always forgave Mono and came back. Not surprising, Mono was not very good at company. He kept trying. Eventually, he would get it right.

 In the meantime, Mono wound into himself tighter yet, scrutiny of the man in the hat never wavering. So much to do, and he hadn’t the chance to give the rooms a thorough search. There was the one creature he tricked, but others could be somewhere. Hide. The tall thin man didn’t understand; it was Mono’s responsibility. He wouldn’t let the Thin Man get hurt again.

 “One of these days you’re going to trap yourself somewhere, and I won’t be around to drag you out,” crackled the Thin Man.

 Mono sat  with his bony arms bundled over his knees, while he watched the Thin Man ramble on. This was his favorite thing, when the Thin Man prattled with the big speek. Some of the speek he recognized, but he only recognized the sounds and could parrot them back to himself. What the noise meant for the most part, was lost on him. Still, he liked the sounds. The man in the hat made mention of ‘child’ or ‘children’ a lot. Danger, he knew that. Irritant, he wasn’t sure what that meant.

 Other speek, sometimes the long phrases that had more recognizable noises like appree-siate, complik-ated, dist-erbed, or something-something abho-rant. Rid-ik-u'louse. Other times, the man in the hat spoke swift and fluidly, Mono couldn't separate the sounds. Still, that was wonderful noise.

 He tilted his head. Sometimes the Thin Man only did speek to himself, the way Mono did speek to himself in his head. But loud. He didn’t know if all kids could do the in head speek, like the way not all kids could use television to go places or see halls in ambiguous places. The hallway was only something Mono dreamed about, until he started to TuNe The TRanSMiSsion. One time he thought all kids could, in some way, manipulate the televisions. Until he learned that this was something only he could do.

 Then he started wearing his masks.

 Was the Thin Man still speek to him? Or forget? It was hard for Mono to figure out. Listening to the Thin Man was restful, even if he didn’t get most of what the tall thin man muttered about. The sounds felt like speek stories on walls, it meant something to the Thin Man and he tried to share it with Mono. This was all something important, but the adult couldn’t convey it right. Mono tried forming the sounds with his lips. If only he had some paper and crayons….

 “…Then when you look up, you’ll realize every mistake you ever made in your life couldn’t have prepare you for this moment.”

 The Thin Man stalled briefly, silent and unmoving. The tall figure turned and checked Mono. “Have you heard any of what I speek?”

 Mono nodded. He was listen. “D’es more? Like... n'story.” The corner of the Thin Man’s mouth twitched, and with a long, deep wheeze, the man in the hat buried his face deeper in his hands.

 Of course, nothing he did ever made the Thin Man happy. Mono dragged the towel with him over to the man in the hat, and wrapped it over his messed up arm. “Not hurt,” he reminded. “Aam good.” He tried to see past the long arm, to the face behind the hands.

 “Eer y’sad?” he tilted his head. “Aam’fix.”

 “G̶̰̓e̷͉͐t̴̘̿ ̷̭̍Ŝ̵͎ò̸̡m̷͖͒e̸͔͆ ̴̛̯R̷͎̿e̷͕͋s̵̘͗t̸̮̐,̶̱͠ ̵̙̅B̷̩͠o̵̳͒ȳ̸͍,̶̗̍” grated the voice. “We cannot linger here.”

 Humming a little to himself, Mono shut one eye in passive thought. The food was not horrible, and there was plenty to have later. A sound bounced from his throat, when the Thin Man wrapped a hand around his shoulders. “Not.” He tried to slip loose, but the fingers only tightened. Should’ve paid attention. NoNoNoNo. The only free hand he had, he latched onto the Thin Man’s suit side. “Hurt. Aam soft.”

 “D̸̛̹o̴͎͂ ̸͙͌N̵̙̓o̶̺̐ṫ̶ͅ ̴̳̈́Ă̶͓r̷̟͌g̶̡͌ǘ̷͙ė̸̢ ̴̺̓W̸̯͊ï̴̢t̶̜̽ḧ̵̦ ̸̞͝M̸̳͗e̴̺͛,̸̻̕” the Thin Man hissed. “The next time you collapse, you’ll lay there. I̴̤͘ ̵̺̊W̶̞̉ọ̸̚n̶͎̕’̷̰̒ẗ̶̳́ ̴̖̂S̷̮͠p̸͕̄a̷͉̎r̴̨͗ẻ̸̞ ̸͖̚A̷̧̐ ̸̼͆G̴͕̅l̴̬̉a̵̝͊ṋ̴͛c̵͍͂e̵͙͛.̶̗”

 Mono garbled some sort of noise and wriggled. This only managed a firmer grip and the Thin Man’s hushing, which only made him hiss and struggle more. He couldn’t endure the exertion for long, and with a groan, relinquished his fight. His fingernails still dug into the thick knit of the Thin Man’s coat, but the Thin Man did loosen the iron coils on his shoulders. Only by a fraction. He wouldn't leave the Thin Man.

 “E’go sum’where?” Mono murmured. He pulled himself up a bit by the coat he held, and checked the tall thin man’s face. The man in the hat held his gaze averted, sights fixed on a barricaded window. It was a long-long while before the stark figure responded… after a nip from Mono.

 “N̶͎͝o̷̟̅,̷̟͋” the Thin Man grated. “No. It just… isn’t safe, to shelter in one place for too long. You know that, don’t you?”

 Of course he did. Kept him alive for so long. No place was ever truly safe. Not for long. His pack... he missed them.

 Mono nodded. He pulled himself up into more of a seated position, and shrugged out of the Thin Man’s hold. The hand settled on the cushion beside him, but didn’t snare him. “Am here,” he reminded, tugging the Thin Man’s suit. “Look after.” Nestling in more, he leaned against the man in the hat and lost himself staring off into nothing.

 This was the strangest company Mono had ever done. The Thin Man wasn’t doing anything, but watch the window. Against the shattered patches of glass, the enduring storm lashed; wood and plaster anchoring the walls groaned, beaten by the unrelenting fury seeking to undo the occupants of the dwelling. The storm was bad, that could be it.

 “Am here,” Mono hummed. “Watch f’r.” However, it was more important to stay quiet and keep motionless. He did suspect it would have been better to find a book for the Thin Man, if he could get away. The notion that the Thin Man needed some quiet and do-nothing time, did occur to him. This was easy enough to do. Usually only when the man in the hat was in a sour mood, then, Mono preferred to hide somewhere else. He never was certain what the tall thin man might do, he could do things very fast without meaning to. The Thin Man could be fast when he wanted to be. Fast and deliberate.

 In the hours that the two sit in wait, it is the Thin Man who delved into dormancy. At first Mono is not aware, while he intently observed the patterns of shadows vibrating on a clean section of wall. The Thin Man’s knee twitched and a scratchy whine vibrated in his chest. Even the carved shades slipping across the wall become distorted and sharp, when the lamp fluttered.

 Mono blinked muddled, head still scrambled from the other time. “Shh. Shh,” he cooed, tugging on the coat side. He slipped his bandaged arm out from the towel and gripped the thick knit of the suit tighter. “Shh. Have you,” Mono rasped. He made other soft trills of speek, all of it had no meaning. It just sounded nice. "Okay. Aam have."

 With some persistent tugging and noises, the man in the hat ceased making frightening sounds. That was good. The tremors diminished as well. It was always scary when the Thin Man had dream haunts, at the same time, Mono wondered what it was which frightened an adult. The Tower? But the Thin Man feared nothing.

 For some time still, Mono clung to the suit's sides, stony faced and unyielding, knuckles white. At least, until he certified the man in the hat wouldn’t knock him off again.

 Exhaling a stale breath, Mono released the suit seams and shuffled carefully to the edge of the couch cushion. Very carefully. Cautious not to disturb or spook the Thin Man. The towel he wanted to take, but it was snagged under the Thin Man’s wrist. Maybe the Thin Man needed it more.

 When Mono dropped safely to the floor, he scurried to the other end of the couch and huddled at the base. In some time, he would go on his own and check the other rooms. Retrieve his hat too if possible, he was not doing very good with hat collecting (and keeping). It was important to hold stern vigil of the Thin Man, in case he had another dream haunt. The merciless night terrors always upset him, but they seemed to bother the man in the hat even more.

 Mono hiked the collar of his coat up a tad higher on his neck and coiled into himself. Shutting only one eye, he listened attentively for a gasp or shudder from the Thin Man. Noisy children always die.

Next

[lo-55]

Tilt The Hourglass Ch. 12

It occurred to Maul only when they were halfway to the mainland that he should probably tell Jango that they hadn’t died. 

Maul didn’t know why he was bothering, exactly. However much Jango might fancy himself a would-be-father for Maul he wasn’t. He wasn’t a father, or a master, or anyone that Maul owed true loyalty to. Maul owed him for patching him up, nothing more. He did not ask to be adopted and he did not need a parent or anyone to take care of him. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He had been for years. 

After this job that debt of his should be paid for, and Maul could go on about his life. He could find Kilindi and Daleen, fetch his brother from Dathomir before the witches could twist him into a tool for their use, and start building his shadow empire. 

That was his plan, wasn’t it?

"Plans are fragile things, and life often dashes expectations to the ground."

Maul’s head snapped around. He’d heard something again. A woman’s voice this time, one that whispered to him from a space between shadows. In his mind it was painted pale purple and white. 

Tiny, pin-pricked claws caught on his sleeve and one of the vornskr’s clambered up to rest on his shoulder, pushing her head against Maul’s cheek before she crawled inside his hood and lay herself around his neck. Her dark body was warm and fluffy with baby fur. 

She hadn’t reacted to the voice, nor had anyone else in the ship of freed slaves. Not even those few who stood close enough to hear a whisper away from him where he sat next to a control panel in the galley. 

Not a real voice then. Not one from a physical place. 

Maul touched his temple, beneath one of his crowning horns, and felt his stomach twist unpleasantly. Was it returning, now, the madness he had spent so long entrenched in? Mother Talzin’s magics had stitched together his fragmented mind with green energy and her own will, and after her death he had been forced to learn to hold it together himself. Sometimes the insanity threatened to creep back in. Sometimes he woke up and it was too dark and he could hear acid rain hissing and see the scratched paintings that a lunatic had put on the wall in fits of rage that kept him living and breathing but not truly there. 

It was a terrible thing, the madness. 

Being not himself, or worse when he was lucid enough to almost grasp onto concepts more solid than filling his mouth with blood and filling his heart with vengeance but could not quite grab hold of the flitting knowledge of who and what he was, or even what he hated so much that it kept his heart beating when the weaker would have perished.

He’d lost a decade of his life to that haze, in the squalor and the garbage and the fire. 

Thrown away like everything else on Lotho Minor. 

His nails dug hard into his thigh, biting into the skin there until it threatened to break and grounding him in the fact that he was not there. He had legs. They hurt. 

Maul took a breath, slowly, and wove the fear in his heart into a latticed shield that he’d been patching around his mind. It had done enough to keep him safe from the Jedi, but they hadn’t really been looking at him. They’d had no reason to prod his mind for more than superficial surface thoughts. 

Sidious had done more damage than Maul wanted to admit, and it would take more time than he had to completely fix it. If he ever could. There were scars in his skull, deep claw tracks that his master had left for him when he lanced through his thoughts and tore them asunder. 

He touched the small muzzle of his vornskr. Her companions, siblings, perhaps, found a place on his lap. 

The voice did not sound like the mad hissing and the frantic, cloying whispers of his shattered self. For one thing, he had never had a woman's voice. For another, it was not dripping with loathing and desperate pain. 

The scars on his palm itched. 

Once he was centered again, and sure of the world around him, Maul input Jango’s comm code. 

He answered a second later. 

“Who is this?” he demanded. His voice was short and sharp and there was the distinct sound of metal being ripped apart in the back ground. What was he doing? Maul had the feeling he’d missed something while he was on the platform with Kenobi. 

“Maul,” was all he said. 

Jango’s tone changed instantly. “Maul! Where are you? Why didn’t you answer the call?!” 

Maul rolled his eyes. Why was Jango so worked up? 

“I used an EMP to kill the explosive charges in a bunch of slave collars on the mine I found Kenobi on. It knocked out the comm along with everything else.” Maul wasn’t sure why he wasn’t just telling Jango that he hadn’t felt like it. 

“... You know what. I’ll ask when you get back. Where did you get the EMP?” 

“I made it.” 

Jango went quiet. Then, “Where did you come from?!”

Maul couldn't help it. He actually laughed. A rough, unused sound. 

“Orsis,” he said finally. “I trained on Orsis.” 

“Orsis. Fuck. That explains a lot. Okay. How did you make the EMP?” 

“Battery, door lock capacitor, wire coil.”

“Kriff.” 

“Why?” 

“Long story short? The di’kut jetii’s wayward student planted a bomb on a timer in the ionite mines. It’s going to blow up the planet.” 

Maul looked up to see Kenobi sitting across from him, horror on his face. “Cursed,” Maul said firmly. 

“Wait!” Kenobi jumped across the gap to slap his hands next to the ships com, nearly knocking his little lizard askew from its place clinging to his ginger hair. It’s tail slapped Kenobi in the cheek. Maul leaned away from him.

“Ionite! Ionite disrupts electronics, especially clocks and sensors. Miner’s are afraid of it,” Kenobi said quickly. 

“Ob’ika!” Jango sounded relieved. “You’re both safe?” 

“Yes,” he said, a strange smile on his face, “But the bomb-”

“We’ll handle it,” Jango promised. “Can the two of you meet us at our apartment?” 

“We can,” Maul assured, shouldering Kenobi behind him. “And Jango?” 

“Hmm?” There was the sound of rocks being thrown against something metallic. Jinn shouted something too far away to be heard. Hopefully he got hit with a rock.

“I have dibs on the dar’jetti.” 

“Absolutely not-!” 

Maul hung up the com and sat back in the seat to shoot a crooked grin at Kenobi. 

“What did you mean by that?” Kenobi asked curiously. 

“I mean that Xanatos has royally pissed me off, and I have no intention of letting him go now. If he was at the mines I have a starting point. Go back to the apartment.” 

“Not without you!” Kenobi grabbed his arm. “We go together.” 

Maul looked at him. His blue eyes were bright and true. Maul’s mouth thinned into a line. It would be dangerous for him but… Kenobi was stronger than he looked. If he had survived this on his own before, he must be. Maul underestimated him. 

“Very well. Together, then.”

Maul inclined his head to Kenobi, and ignored the way he burst into a grin. Force, he was so young. 

Maul had the newly freed slaves drop them off somewhere where Maul could ‘commander’ and speeder for them. Kenobi sat behind him, holding onto his poncho while the vonskr piled into the front of his shirt and Kenobi’s little lizard hid inside the jedi’s pocket. 

Maul turned them suddenly away from the mine. The Force, darkness whispering around his fingers, hissed at him that Xanatos was not there. 

“Where are we going?” Kenobi shouted in his ear. 

Maul didn’t respond. He sped faster, roaring through the crowded streets of Bando. If Xanatos had set a mine to blow up the planet then he wouldn’t still be around, and Maul had found the landing platform that Offworld used for its corporate members when he’d been poking around Xanatos’ files. 

They shot onto the landing platform from the street, bursting past the security teams and weaving between blaster fire until they went tumbling off the bike and directly into the cargo hold of a shiny nubien transport ship. It certain didn’t look like it came through an Ion storm. 

Kenobi landed on his feet and Maul at his side in a crouch. He forced the vornskr out of his clothes and shooed them off to the side. 

They were like him. Fighters, angry and vicious down in their bones, hunters with sleak bodies ready to grow into muscle and danger. Venom coated their pointed tails. 

“Stay,” Maul ordered harshly, pushing them between two boxes for their own safety. He could feel the little female in his mind, upset at being pushed aside. Their bond was already strong. 

Kenobi put his little pet in with Maul’s future hunters and the pair turned around right as the door slid open with a hiss and Xanatos came out, his cloak billowing. He was flanked by two assassin droids of a much more basic model than the CIS had used. He moved with a natural battle prowess, and looked down his nose at the children before him. 

Maul bared his teeth. Good. It would make it that much easier to kill him. 

Maul drew his blaster and fired without warning. Xanatos ripped his lightsaber out of his sleeve and flicked it on with a buzz. The red blade hummed ominous. Maul eyed it derisively. He could sense it from here. The crystal had been bled, but not properly. Xanatos was full of hatred, but not enough. 

Maul fired again and Kenobi ignited his own ‘saber. The little Jedi threw himself at the wash out with abandon. He was vicious and fast, the familiar forms he had used in the future nowhere to be found. 

Maul ignored the off footed feeling it left him with and kept shooting, careful not to his Kenobi while he was at it. The bolts shot back and hit the walls, scorching them and freeing crates from nets to go falling around them. It gave Maul the leverage to climb higher and hit Xanatos in the shoulder, thoroughly ruining his fine cloak. 

Good. It was gaudy anyways. 

The assassin droids came after them alongside their master with electro-staves, forcing Maul and Kenobi to fight three on two. Enraged by his loss of fashion Xanatos snarled and launched himself clean over Kenobi to slash down at Maul, who ducked and rolled out of the way. When Kenobi tried to held the droids intercepted him and tried to cut him down, forcing him on the defensive. 

He had to dodge and weave the slashes and jabs that Xanatos sent his way. He dropped and swept his foot out to knock Xanato’s feet out from under him. 

Maul fired at him twice and had both shots deflected.  

“Have you always had such sloppy footwork?” Maul asked dryly. 

Xanatos rose to his feet. Kenobi circled him on the other side.  Xanatos dodged between the two of them, trying to get them to slip up and strike eachother, but both of them managed to avoid it. The Force curled around Maul as his temper rose and impatience came with it, practically begging to be used. 

Maul shot just over Xanatos’ shoulder and steam erupted in the ship, screaming through the hold. The steam burned Xanatos’ arm, forcing a howl out of his mouth. 

Pathetic. 

Maul caught Kenobi’s eyes and jerked his chin towards the ex-Jedi. Kenobi caught his meaning and abandoned his opponents when he launched himself at Xanatos with a powerful overhead strike. 

Xanatos lashed out with the Force and slammed Kenobi into the wall so hard the metal dented. His lightsaber went out and fell to the ground with a clatter beside him while Kenobi’s body fell limp, just behind Maul. 

Rage coiled through Maul’s body. 

No, absolutely not. 

He didn’t hear the speeder roaring closer. He didn’t hear his comm, recovered from the EMP, going off. All he heard was the echoing of Kenobi’s body and his own blood rushing through his ears. 

“You shouldn’t have bothered with the Jedi,” Xanatos lectured, his voice slick. His Force slithered around Maul’s skull and tried to poke and prod him into listening. Maul snarled. “They don’t care about anyone or anything. They are cruel, and they will betray you in the end. They don’t understand true power.” 

“And you do?” Maul snapped, his voice harsh and echoing through the coiling steam. Xanatos’ smile was a sickening sight. Maul was going to cut his face off and rip the mouth apart. 

“I understand it better than any of them. Let me show you!” 

Xanatos threw his hand out, intending to strangle Maul, but Maul batted the Force choke away. Xanatos was strong in the darkside, for someone who hadn’t been trained in it. 

Maul was born to it. 

Raised in it. 

Suffered and bled and killed for it. 

The Darkside hummed through his veins. 

The ships ramp shook and clattered around the ground and the ship itself creaked as power filled it and pushed outwards, away from Maul. He lifted one hand and squeezed a fist to crush the droids on either side of Xanatos into nothing more than balls of scrap metal and wire. 

The former Jedi stepped back, his eyes wide. Fear flickered through them. 

Good. 

Maul touched the barrels of his blaster. He unhooked them from the base and pulled them free. They swung apart, a hinge in the middle keeping them together until the bases met. 

Red extended from one side, and crimson from the other. Maul held it in front of him, with Kenobi limp behind him and the darkness raging around the pair. 

“You-” Xanatos gasped. 

Maul met his eyes squarely. 

“You speak of power as if you have it. You have barely scratched the surface of the Darkside. So you covet one scar and one loss above all else? You are weak. Pathetic. The Darkside is born of fear and hate and you seek to control all things. But the Darkness can never be truly controlled. You are weak, ex-Jedi. You were never even a Knight. I have killed Padawan’s, Knights and Masters. I will kill you too.” 

Xanatos lifted his ‘saber up to block Maul’s first attack, but he was forced to defend. Each arching strike was powerful and intended to take his head. Each twisted and flash of red launched at his openings and weaknesses. 

Over, under, left, right, Maul came from all angles. Xanatos was good, but not good enough. He was no Jinn, no Kenobi, no Tano. 

Maul dodged and slash aimed at his shoulder and drove the edge of his ‘saber through Xanato’s chest. 

It was quick. Quicker than he deserved. 

Maul stepped back and let him fall to the ground with a hole smoking in his chest. 

He stood over him, his lightsaber singing in his grasp of vengeance and satisfaction. It had met its first blood with a fallen Jedi of the same lineage that Maul had spent a lifetime battling. Maul’s hood fell from his shoulders and he turned at last to his fallen battle-partner. 

He found pale blue eyes watching him. The pupils were dilated and Kenobi only uttered a weak groan. There was blood along his lips and his injured back had certainly been done no favors by the rough treatment at Xanatos’ hands. 

Maul walked towards him slowly. He turned off his ‘saber and folded it back in half just as Jinn and Jango came bursting through the doorway in a clatter of armor and boots. Maul picked up his blaster and carefully clicked the ‘saber back in its place before he joined Jango at Kenobi’s side. The Mandalorian was checking him over, testing his ribs and stomach for broken bones and internal bleeding. He head bled sluggishly from a cut along the back of it. 

“You found us,” Maul said, surprised.

Jango shot him a look. “I don’t know if you know this, but it’s my job to find people on the run. It doesn’t matter if their petty thieves or corporate hot shots. I’m very good at my job, Maul’ika.” 

Jango glanced at Maul’s blaster. So he had noticed after all. He was still acting like everything was the same. Like Maul wasn’t a sith. 

“Come on. Let’s get Ob’ika to a proper doctor. And stop shaking the ship.” 

Maul hadn’t even realized that it was still trembling under the force of his anger. The ship shuddered and the lights flickered when he draw the darkness back inside himself and tucked it carefully into the ocean of his being. 

He spared a glance at Jinn, who was cradling the body of Xanatos as if he hadn’t just tried to kill him and half a planet’s worth of people. 

Had Kenobi held Jinn like that after Maul had killed him? 

An armoured hand on his shoulder broke him from his thoughts. Maul looked up to see Jango standing over him with Obi Wan hefted onto his back. He still looked dazed, but with the weight of Maul’s anger lifted from him he was much more relaxed. 

“C’mon. Let the jetii mourn. I’m trusting you to watch my back on the way to the hospital.” 

Maul personally thought trusting a Sith was a terrible choice, but whatever. He nodded once to the Mandalorian before he went over to the shelter he had left their companions in. He came back holding three vornskr and Kenobi’s varactyl. 

Jango stopped walking when he saw Maul approach with a bundle of tiny animals. 

“... You’re cleaning up after them.” 

Maul scoffed. “Obviously.” 

The pair left Jinn to mourn his fallen apprentice. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Jango left Obi Wan to rest in Maul’s bedroom in their apartment before he made his way out to the kitchen, where Maul was feeding their new little guests. Three small feline creatures with puffy black fur and long tails that pointed at the end in a diamond shape. 

The three were all equipped with tiny, sharp claws and razor sharp baby teeth. 

Jango hadn’t even considered saying ‘no’ when Maul had pulled them out of a small space between crates in the cargo hold of Xanatos’ ship. The boy was a natural born hunter if he’d found the dar’jetii before either he or Jinn had arrived.

Jango hadn’t liked working with Jinn, and he liked even less tripping over him in close quarters combat with a coward who had no intention of fighting them straight. They had done more damage to each other than they had to Xanatos. 

In the end it hadn’t mattered. 

Jango’s kid had cut him down with a lightsaber of all things. 

Jango couldn't say he was surprised. 

The Manda had been very loud about the boy, and Jango had seen him building the strange blaster over the last few days. He’d known he’d been up to something curious, but he hadn’t been inclined to ask right off. Nothing had been put together in a way that looked like it would explode, and Maul had seemed to know what he was doing. 

Now Jango knew why. 

Orsis. Kriff. 

He’d heard of the academy there. The headmaster, Trezza, had recruited a Mandalorian years ago. Meltch Krakko may have been Kry’tsad but he was a formidable fighter. When he disappeared for nearly a decade it had been enough to warrant Jaster looking into it and Jango after. Now he was back with the Kyr’tsad and a royal thorn in Jango’s side. 

Had Maul been trained by Krakko? He’d been back for three years, and Maul looked much too young to belong to Orsis for that long. Yet, Maul was not a half trained student. He was well trained, a frightening thing. No child should be that good at killing. 

It also confirmed… certain things. 

Jango came to sit across the counter from where Maul was wrestling one of the felines with his hand, trying to ‘fight’ it for the small hunk of meat he was holding. The little varactyl that Maul said was Obi Wan’s was stretched out in front of a sunbeam that came through the window. Morning had already come and only Obi Wan had gotten any sleep. 

Jango set his helmet on the counter and ran his fingers through his hair. 

He was too young for this. He was too young for two kids and four animals, and more kids to come. He’d promised to help Maul fetch his brother. That would mean three kids. Four, maybe, Maul had used plural but he’d been vague. 

Jango didn’t know that he could raise all of them on his own. He was only twenty two, and he was Mand’alor as well. He didn’t even have a riduur to help him. How could he give the boys all the attention and care they deserved? 

Maul and Obi Wan were already independent for their age, and given when little Jango knew of them it wasn’t that much of a surprise. Apparently the jettii sucked at caring for their young. While that meant that he probably didn’t have to worry about making sure they got dinner and washed up it meant that he needed to be more present for other matters. 

For the compassion and care they had been denied before. To coax the both of them into trusting him and letting him take care of them when he could. Would it really be fair to ask that they put up with a buir that had so many responsibilities to the Haat’ade?

Jango had been so sure of himself before. And he hadn’t changed his mind. He wanted Maul as his son. He wanted Obi Wan too. 

But he had to think about what was best for the boys. 

On top of Jango’s own issues there was also the matter of the Force. 

Obi Wan had dreamed for so long of being a Knight, and his heart was crushed by the idea that it would never come true. Maul had already proven himself to be powerful in the magic, even more so tonight. 

Jango glanced at his blaster. 

He didn’t know what he’d expected when he arrived at Xanatos’ ship with Jinn, their alliance held together only by the common goal of ‘stop Xanatos’, but it certainly hadn’t been Maul standing protectively over a downed Obi Wan before he sprung into a fight so fast and vicious Jango hadn’t been able to keep up with it at the time. He’d been a blur of red and black rage that took Xanatos down in the time it took Jango and Jinn to cross the landing pad at a run. 

“You are taking this better than I expected,” Maul said suddenly. 

Jango pulled his gaze away from the blaster to look at the boy. 

“Taking what?” Jango asked, laying his hands on the counter. He’d noticed Maul was more comfortable when he could see everyone’s hand around him. It was just the smallest easing of his shoulders. Jango understood. 

“Me,” Maul said bluntly. Jango frowned. His confusion must have shown, or Maul felt it in the Force, because he elaborated. “My lightsaber. And the Force. You felt it there.” 

“Well yes,” Jango tilted his head. “I knew about it already.” 

Maul’s head snapped up and he sat straight, knocking his playmate on his back. The feline chirped angrily at him and snatched the meat. He went scampering over to his litttermates, and ended up getting knocked head over heels by the female. She was a scrapper, and she adored Maul. 

“You what?!” 

Jango’s heart softened. Maul hadn’t known. He’d been hiding it this whole time. Had he been afraid? Had he thought Jango was going to punish him for having such abilities? 

Jango recalled the scars that painted Maul’s body. 

It was very possible that that was what he expected, because that was what had happened in the past. The idea made Jango’s blood heat with anger. 

Jango tamped it down so he could speak calmly to Maul. 

“When I found you on that ship, the one that you were stowed away in, you lashed out when you were hurt. Every light in the ship exploded.” 

Maul grimaced. “I see. Then why didn’t you leave me there?” 

Jango didn’t even try to act like he wasn’t horrified. 

“You’re a child! I wasn’t leaving an ad alone in the middle of space in a dead ship!” 

“You have no obligation to me,” Maul snapped. “I’m not your son, you’ve sworn nothing to me. I’m not a Mandalorian-” 

“But you can be. You know you can be.” 

The weight of his words betrayed the secondary meaning behind them. Jango watched Maul’s breath catch and his eyes grow wide. His skin paled to pink and grey. Jango winced. He hadn’t meant to scare him that much. He hadn’t meant to scare him at all. 

“You saw that,” Maul hissed, scrambling to stand up. Jango made himself stay calm. He made himself stay relaxed, his hands in sight and his eyes open and genuine. 

“I did. It was the future, wasn’t it?” He waited for Maul to give a stiff, short nod. Jango stayed very still. “I heard that jetii sometimes see the future, and sometimes they read minds. Mandalorian’s who are more connected to it can sometimes receive information from the Manda, but it’s mostly feelings and intuition.” 

“Beskar muffles the Force,” Maul said quietly. 

“I didn’t have my buy’ce on when it started. I saw what could have happened, and I saw what you changed it too, with your friends. You’re going to look for the girls eventually too, right?” 

Maul nodded slowly. 

Jango quietly added two more to his growing list of responsibilities. If it took a clan to raise a child it was going to take the entire Haat’ade to raise Jango’s.  

 “You knew the whole time,” Maul realized, looking at Jango with new eyes. One of the barriers between them was starting to dissolve. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t want to scare you. If you wanted me to know you would tell me, eventually. You hate having to make yourself lesser.” 

Maul grimaced. “Yes. I do.” 

Jango leaned closer across the counter. 

“I would never ask you to do that, you know. I would never ask you to pretend to be anything that you aren’t. You’re a feral nexu, and too smart for your own good. You’re a fighter the likes of which I’ve rarely met. Even if I wish that you didn’t have to be. I wasn’t lying, or joking, and I’ve known what you are and what you could be the entire time. I want you as my son, Maul’ika. If you say yes.” 

Maul sat back. He looked lost, and confused, but Jango could see a new light in his eyes. 

“My brothers. If you take me you take them.” 

“I know,” Jango promised. He hesitated. “I wouldn’t try to keep you from family. My buir, Jaster Mereel, took me in. I was a foundling. My parents and my sister were killed by the Kyr’tsad.”  

“Oh.” 

The door to Obi Wan’s room hissed open and they both turned to see the boy standing there, looking pale and shaken but standing upright. Jango waved him over and Obi Wan came to sit by his side. His varactyle came running off and climbed quickly onto Obi Wan’s shoulder. Obi Wan smiled and pet her head, where a crown of messy feathers was starting to come in. 

“It’s good to see you’re up,” Jango said fondly. Obi Wan shot him a shy smile before he sat up straighter. He was far too adult for Jango’s liking. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you like that.” 

Jango’s heart broke. He dragged Obi Wan into his side. His armor lay on the corner, so he didn’t smack the boys head on his breast plate. 

“It wasn’t an inconvenience, but I wish you boys had waited for us, or at least told us the plan. I would have helped, you know.” 

Obi Wan flushed faintly with the simple affection, but he let Jango hug him for a minute more before being released to sit on the stool next to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But we won! Right?” He looked between the pair. “I.. don’t remember everything. It was dark, and cold, and kind of hard to see…” 

“Yes. We won,” Jango assured. “Xanatos is dead. Maul got him.” 

Obi Wan looked to Maul in surprise. The zabrak boy hunched his shoulders. Obi Wan’s eyes got wider. 

“The lightsaber. The red lightsaber, with two blades. It was real. It was yours.” 

Maul nodded, once. His lips curled, ready to bite. 

“Yes. It is.” 

“But, how? You aren’t a jedi, are you? You’re too young…” 

“I’m old enough,” Maul snapped, as he was wont to. Jango privately disagreed. From what he knew of zabraks, Maul hadn’t even hit puberty yet. He wouldn’t have even  been eligible for his verd’goten yet. 

“But you’re right,” Maul admitted. “I am no jedi. I am… I was, a sith apprentice.” 

Obi Wan sucked in a sharp breath. “But the sith are dead!” 

“Not dead,” Maul shook his head. “Hiding. A line of Banite sith have been in hiding for a thousand years, passing knowledge from Master to Apprentice.” 

“That’s- But- We have to tell the Jedi Council,” Obi Wan said suddenly. Maul lunged across the counter and grabbed his arm. 

“No!” He nearly shouted. The lights flickered and Obi Wan’s skin paled. Jango grasped both boys by the shoulders and pulled them apart. Maul spared him a brief glance. 

“No,” Maul said again, his voice low and sharp and urgent. “You can’t tell them. They wouldn’t believe you, there’s no proof of what I say and even if there was there’s nothing they can do about it. My- The Master is too powerful politically to be touched, and a religion is not illigal. The Jedi serve the Republic’s whims.” 

It was a messy, uneven argument, but it wasn’t wrong either. Besides that Jango had personal doubts about exactly how capable the Jedi Council was. Not just for Galidraan, but for Obi Wan too. 

They were fools. 

It was still a problem though. 

“That’s not all, is it?” Jango pressed, squeezing Maul’s shoulder. He frowned, but nodded, slowly. 

“No. It’s not.” 

“We can’t let a Sith Lord run free though,” Obi Wan argued. “The Sith are evil! They’ll hurt people.” He faltered and looked at Maul, remembering that he had just called himself a Sith Apprentice. 

Maul glared at the table. 

“No. We will not let him run free. I will kill him myself. For the pain he caused me. For the life he stole from me. For the people he ripped from my arms and the blood I painted myself in for him. I will kill him for it.”

Obi Wan frowned. 

“Revenge is dangerous. Master Yoda says it leads to the Darkside.” 

“I’m already entrenched in the Darkside,” Maul said irritably. He tilted his head. “Do you even know the Sith Code?” 

Obi Wan frowned. “Well, there’s only ever two of them. And they use that Darkside, and tried to take over the galaxy before. They’d angry and hateful, and evil.”

Again, he winced. Again, Maul didn’t take offense. 

“Peace is a lie. There is only Passion.

Through Passion I gain Strength.

Through Strength I gain Power.

Through Power I gain Victory.

Through Victory my chains are Broken.

The Force shall free me” 

Maul’s voice echoed with the words of a thousand Sith that came before him. Jango could feel it in his bones, the way the air shifted and the shadows lengthened in the corner of his eyes. 

Obi Wan frowned. “That… doesn’t sound that bad.” 

Maul inclined his head. “You’re not entirely wrong. My Master is evil. He’s cruel and vicious. And his own master still lives. He has broken the Rule of Two by teaching me. I will end the line of Bane. There is strength in the Darkside.” 

“Although,” he added, reluctantly. “The Lightside is not without its own merits.” 

“Don’t jetii preach about balance?” Jango wondered aloud. 

“They usually mean only for the Light to be prevalent,” Maul said with a grimace. 

“But, yes. We do,” Obi Wan said. His face fell. “They do. I’m not a real jedi now. And Master Jinn won’t take me and there’s no one else that would.” 

“I told you I would help you, Obi Wan,” Jango reminded him. He hated saying it. He really did, especially given what Galidraan could have been if they hadn’t had the warning from two years ago. “If you really want it, I’ll help you find a teacher too, if you’re willing to put up with us for a while more. There have to be a few Jedi who have less of a stick in their shebs than Jinn does.” 

Obi Wan looked at him with such fragile, heartbreaking hope Jango wanted to burn the Jedi temple to the ground. “Really? You think someone would take me?”

If they didn’t, Jango would. 

Jango nodded at him with as kind of a smile as he could muster. 

“I do. We’ll just have to start looking.” 

Maul made a small sound. 

“Actually,” he began, “I might have an idea where to start. There’s a reclusive Jedi Master…”

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

Thunderclash Ruins Normal Spike for TFA Roddy

So, by popular demand or at least high interest, I’ve written my tfa!Roddy and ll!Thunders fic idea

Content: size kink, tummy bulge, excessive cum, kindling feelings

Enjoy!

Shots fire over the battlefield with resounding explosions as they make impact on the gray stone around them. Rodimus Prime pushes his back against a low outcropping and checks his bow, cursing as he takes in the damage. It was going to need extensive repairs after this and as it is now, he probably would only be able to get a few more shots in. Well, better make them count. He whips around to aim above his cover, targeting towards the Decepticons charging at him at full speed. Shutting his optics for just a flicker of a moment, thanking Primus that at the very least his team had managed to getaway. He pulls back and is just about to release as a sudden flash of light and a thunderous boom shakes the thin atmosphere, startling him and making his shot fly wide. Everything goes still as the dust begins to settle and a large silhouette lifts from the ground. It’s a mech like none Rodimus has ever seen, large and powerful like a Decepticon but land-bound like an Autobot. All Rodimus can think this mech could be is back up for the Decepticons here but they were far from needing any. What was going on?

Thunderclash looks around, dazed and confused, trying to gather his bearings and make sense of what just happened. Oh, right, Brainstorm happened, his processor finally provides helpfully. He turns to spot some unusual looking transformers emblazoned with the Decepticon insignia making him go on guard immediately. The war may be over but that certainly didn’t seem to stop any Decepticons they’ve met so far from wanting to continue hostilities. Realizing they were already on the attack as he puts his stance wide, he traces their line of attack to find their quarry. His optics land on a small bot, a mini and at that moment Thunderclash recognizes his shape, his colors and realizes he must be in another universe for he’s staring at a small replica of Rodimus Prime. He doesn’t need to spare a moment more to think about it, whatever the current situation, these Decepticons were going down. He wasn’t about to let any incarnation of Rodimus come to harm, not even that one evil one they met.

Rodimus watches in slack-jawed awe as the new arrival swiftly knocks the front-most Decepticon back like he weighed nothing more than an annoying stack of datapads. The mech’s movements were practiced and elegant like he’d been doing this all his life, a true machine of war. It didn’t make any sense in Rodimus’s processor as to why this mech who should be among Megatron’s most elite was defending him and he knew this mech was defending him after seeing that look in his red optics. Before Rodimus can come to any kind of census in his processor, the Decepticons who had been on the verge of bringing him to his end are retreating with heavy wounds of terribly dented armor and rips through their plating leaking energon. The mech turns around now covered with blast marks and scratches that don’t even seem to phase him with the occasional splatter of energon here and there. None of the energon could be his with how there wasn’t a single significant wound on his body. The strange mech smiles down at him and Rodimus can feel his frame heat inexplicably.

Thunderclash slowly walks towards the small Rodimus and kneels down to reach his hand out to him.

“Are you alright?” Thunderclash calls softly to him, not wanting to startle him.

The mech has an Autobot brand on his chest but he’s so tall and big, Rodimus can’t fathom it. Without thinking, Rodimus reaches it out and places his hand on the mech’s outstretched one. Upon the light touch, the mech’s hand wraps around his completely, encasing it gently but firmly in a warm embrace before he’s helped up from kneeling. Rodimus stares up mech and feels very small as he stands to see he only reaches the mech’s spike cover which serves to fill his processor with very unseemly thoughts that make his faceplates heat up. He blames it on the high of battle and pushes the thought roughly away.

“Yes, thank you,” Rodimus keeps his optics firmly trained on his face.

Thunderclash smiles down at this mini Rodimus and then feels his face heat in embarrassment as he realizes he hasn’t even introduced himself yet, “Oh, uh, I’m Thunderclash by the way.”

“Thunderclash,” Rodimus repeats and clears his intake, embarrassed at how dreamy his voice sounds saying this mech’s name.

“You must be Rodimus Prime, the Rodimus Prime of this universe that is,” Thunderclash says and releases his hand when he notices he was still holding it.

Rodimus blinks up in surprise and nods, “Yes, you’re from another universe? Do you know my alternate there?”

“I am,” Thunderclash’s smiles warmly again making Rodimus’s spark stutter, “He’s my captain, the captain of the Lost Light. I’m rather proud of that claim.”

A burst of jealousy that Rodimus knows is completely unreasonable bubbles up in his spark as he puts on a smile for Thunderclash.

“That sounds nice,” Rodimus scratches the back of his helm nervously.

Suddenly, his communicator beeps and he sees the message is coming in from command. He looks up apologetically at Thundeclash who waves him off with understanding. Rodimus nods his thanks and walks a few steps away to answer his communicator.

“Rodimus Prime,” Ultra Magnus’s strong voice pops in with a burst of static, “What is your situation?”

“I remained behind to give my team a chance to escape,” Rodimus reports, chancing a glance at Thunderclash every so often seeing him on his own call, “The Decepticons retreated after I received some aid from…”

Rodimus stalls as the ridiculousness of Thunderclash’s existence crashes over him. He couldn’t just tell Ultra Magnus he’d got help from a giant Autobot from another universe, that would sound insane.

“Rodimus?” Ultra Magnus prompts him, sounding concerned.

Rodimus shakes his head and responds, “I received some aid from a surprisingly adept civilian who helped me beat back the Decepticons.”

“That is… surprising,” Ultra Magnus says over the comm, thankfully sounding more surprised than doubtful, “We will have to give this civilian a commendation. A transport is set to arrive at your destination in two cycles with a Red Alert. We anxiously await your return.”

“Thank you, sir,” and with that the call ends.

Thunderclash walks up to him, “I’ve been told that I’m going to be picked up in just a few hours. So, I guess I’m here until then. You?”

“Transport is on its way,” Rodimus shrugs then tilts his head, “Hours?”

Thunderclash shrugs, “Earth time. It caught on pretty quickly on our ship.”

“Okay…” Rodimus says not sure how else to respond.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to say. Thunderclash pats his legs for a moment and looks at an outcropping of rocks, thoughts flitting behind his optics.

“It’s going to be a while until I can get back, until either of us are going to get back,” Thunderclash points to the outcrop and looks back at Rodimus, “I’m going to go sit over there, maybe catch some recharge. Feel free to join me if you wish.”

Thunderclash walks over to the outcropping and slides down its surface so his back is to it and stretches his strong arms out before resting them on his knees. Rodimus watches him, feeling a sudden sense of indecision. There was a real possibility he was never going to see this mech again and Rodimus wanted… He didn’t know what he wanted really or, rather, he wanted to many things. He knew exactly what he wanted what was he kidding himself for? If they’re never going to see each other again after this then there was no harm in testing the waters or even taking the plunge. If he asked the worst that would happen is that he would be embarrassed for two whole cycles and that would be the end of it. Making a decision, Rodimus walks up to Thunderclash and rests a hand on his knee, getting Thunderclash to look up at him with an open expression.

“Uh, I would like to give you my thanks,” Rodimus drums his fingers on Thunderclash’s knee, “for saving me, I mean.”

Thunderclash smiles sweetly at him, genuinely touched, “It was no trouble.”

“No, I know,” Rodimus gets closer, moving his hand to Thunderclash’s shoulder, leaning in closer with his spark spinning a mile a minute, “I saw how you defeated them with barely straining a cable. I just want you to know…”

Thunderclash doesn’t move as Rodimus leans in, optics traveling to his derma and staying stock still, not entirely believing that this was happening. Rodimus leans in close and presses a kiss against his lips which Thunderclash would like to say that he had a bit more self-control and didn’t immediately melt into it but he did. Having this small version of Rodimus in his arms was like a dream. He doesn’t remember when he pulled Rodimus into his lap, but there he was, kneeling and kissing Thunderclash like his life depended on it. Thunderclash trails his hands over Rodimus’s frame, unable to resist the mech in front of him, feeling how small he is with his frame fit perfectly into Thunderclash’s hands. One of Rodimus’s knees rubs Thunderclash’s panel and it snaps open to let his spike pressurize between them. He tries to apologize to Rodimus but his words turn into a gasp as he feels Rodimus grab the head of his spike and run his thumb over it.

“Is this okay?” Rodimus pants out and Thunderclash just nods.

Thunderclash feels his processor practically melt as Rodimus starts stroking his spike, eyeing it with a hungry optic that Thunderclash had never even imagined on the face of his captain. Then, Rodimus uncovers his valve and lowers down in front of Thunderclash’s spike so he can push up against it with his wet valve. Making a choked off sound in his intake, Thunderclash grabs onto what he can of Rodimus as he balances on Thunderclash’s knees and starts grinding against Thunderclash’s spike. Thunderclash just moans and watches as Rodimus’s, this alternate Rodimus’s valve lips hug his spike as Rodimus moves his hips along it, gasping whenever his node rubbed against the head of Thunderclash’s spike. Rodimus’s legs begin to shake so Thunderclash takes him in his arms and moves to his knees so he can keep grinding his spike between the hot folds of Rodimus’s valve. He looks down at Rodimus whose optics are blazing with light and his face is practically split with how wide his smile is, optics firmly locked on Thunderclash’s spike.

Thunderclash moves his hips faster, getting Rodimus to cry out sweetly and pant, hot to the touch in Thunderclash’s hands. Then Rodimus grabs the head of his spike and squeezes, sending a jolt through Thunderclash that makes him stop cold, panting and moaning heavily.

“I want you to overload inside me,” Rodimus leans up and captures Thunderclash’s derma in a slow, gentle kiss before breaking it with a swipe of his glossa over Thunderclash’s lower lip.

“I don’t think…” Thunderclash vents out between pants only to screw his optics shut as Rodimus lines himself up with Thunderclash’s spike.

“Just go slow,” Rodimus trails his hand down Thunderclash’s length with one hand as grips Thunderclash’s arm with the other.

When Thunderclash still hesitates, Rodimus pushes himself down onto his spike some, the head of Thunderclash’s spike already stretching him obscenely so his node rubs against Thunderclash’s spike. Leaning down to steady himself on one hand, Thunderclash pushes in at a painfully slow pace, terrified of hurting this Rodimus. As the spike pushes deep inside of the wet heat of Rodimus’s valve, he relaxes to let more and more in. Rodimus moans as he sees how his plating shifts to let Thunderclash in, a bulge forming on his abdomen where Thunderclash’s spike is. Thunderclash feels himself shaking as he tenses every cable in his body to keep him from simply sinking into Rodimus, his valve impossibly tight around his spike. He can feel heat gather in his array and pressure build in his spike, waiting to be released.

Rodimus grips Thunderclash’s chestplate and tugs him down sharply to look him in the optic, “You’re not allowed to overload yet, not until you’re all the way in then you can.”

Something ignites along Thunderclash’s lines and he bites his derma as he continues to push in slowly, using every ounce of his willpower to hold back which comes harder as more of his spike pushes into Rodimus. Rodimus feels Thunderclash’s spike twitch in his valve as he’s stretched wide and filled so completely his hips twitch and spasm, unable to escape the almost overwhelming sensations. Finally, Thunderclash feels Rodimus’s valve lips press against his pelvic plates and sighs with relief, pausing as he vents heavily, heat and charge clouding his processor. Rodimus runs a hand over his lower plating over the shallow bulge and bites his derma as he writhes on the spike, gasping as the ridges rub against the walls of his valve.

“Well come on,” Rodimus pants excitedly, his optics flaring erraticly, “I know you’re desperate to overload. So, do it, I want to feel you overload inside me.”

Thunderclash chokes off a groan and practically overloading upon Rodimus’s command, filling him with hot transfluid, so that some pushes past his spike to drip onto the gray stone below. Rodimus cries out as he’s filled, overloading on Thunderclash’s spike, his valve unable to tighten anymore around Thunderclash’s spike that’s filling him so completely. They come down from their overloads rapidly rather than gradually and charge immediately begins to build again in Rodimus’s systems and he moves his hips however much he can.

“Keep going,” Rodimus begs, gripping desperately onto Thunderclash, “Please, I need more.”

Thunderclash swallows a moan and pants out, “Say that again.”

Rodimus groans in frustration and all but shouts, “Just frag me! I want you to use that spike of yours to- Ah!”

Thunderclash thrusts and Rodimus digs his fingers into Thunderclash’s arms, unable to form words, barely even able to think as Thunderclash’s spike fills him over and over. Unable to control himself any longer Thunderclash let’s loose, pounding into Rodimus as he keeps him still in one arm, his hand holding Rodimus’s hip tightly. It’s fast and rough, with the obscene sounds of Rodimus’s wet valve being used. Overload takes them both more violently this time, charge licking their frames in broad arches as Thunderclash spills again into Rodimus’s valve, making Rodimus feel warm and heavy in a way he’s never known before. They calm down completely this time and Rodimus winces slightly as Thunderclash’s spike depressurizes out of him, letting cold air hit his valve. Rodimus scrambles to hold onto something as Thunderclash stands up rapidly and walks him over to a taller bolder and sets him down gently. Pulling a clean rag out, Thunderclash begins cleaning him up, muttering under his vents.

Rodimus puts a hand on Thunderclash’s chest, getting him to stop for a moment.

“What is it?” Rodimus asks and Thunderclash looks incredibly chagrined.

“I should’ve had more control, now look at you, you’re all…” Thunderclash rubs his fingers into Rodimus’s abdomen plating soothingly, encouraging them to return to their normal extension.

“Stretched out?” Rodimus offers teasingly but Thunderclash only looks regretfully.

Rodimus pulls Thunderclash’s face down and kisses him again.

“I liked that a lot,” Rodimus smiles up at him, “I hope you did too.”

Thunderclash nods sheepishly and stares down at Rodimus, a faint pang forming in his spark. Wanting every moment he can have of this fantasy, he finishes cleaning them both up then pulls Rodimus to him, to hold him and kiss him sweetly until he gets a notice that just in a few minutes, he’ll be able to go home. The swirling blue vortex appears suddenly in the air and with one last farewell, one last kiss, Thunderclash walks through the hazy portal, returning to his own universe and leaving Rodimus alone.

Later, his transport arrives right on time with Cliffjumper and Red Alert in tow. He boards it with barely a word, feeling a strange kind of melancholy that he didn’t know how to describe. Red Alert guides him to the small medbay and checks him over. To lost in his own thoughts, he misses the concerned glances of the transport crew and the critical gaze of Cliffjumper. Red Alert smirks and that’s what catches his optic.

“What?” Rodimus asks, his tone reflecting his sour demeanor.

Red Alert just shakes her head, “Usually, mechs are a bit more cheerful after getting fragged to within an inch of their life. Have fun with our hero did we?”

Rodimus splutters and Red Alert waits patiently for him to form coherent words. He has to clear his intake of static, her comment throwing him so off guard.

“How do you mean?” he asks as flatly as he can even though he’s completely on edge now.

She points to his abdomen and explains simply, “Your plating is distended at quarter capacity. That only happens for two reasons and seeing as how I didn’t have to turn you the right way out again, you got fragged.”

Rodimus looks away, faceplate heating to a bright red, “Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” Red Alert chuckles, “I guess your hero got all the commendation they wanted then?”

Rodimus doesn’t say anything at first then very quietly says, “He was… nice.”

Red Alert stops and turns around at that to see the melancholy from before return. She walks over and pulls him into a tight hug.

“Oh, Rodimus, I’m sure, you’ll see him again.”

They journey back to Cybertron and Rodimus tries very hard to forget a mech with kind red optics, and a sweet smile.

[starsescape]

Jill fell quiet. She need time to think. She had only a limited understanding of the situation and making a decision based on that felt terrifying when countless of lives would be affected by it with there being a real possibility of all that she knew was either outdated or misinformation. Jill was suspended from the force and could be seen as a renegade for taking the matters into her own hands like this and being seen as such, especially if her choice would lead to a disaster, was dangerous. Not to mention that Jill had lead Juno on to believe she was still part of the police force by not telling about her suspension, though it was a slim chance that they hadn’t read the news about it.

“Fix the control panel here.” Jill said at last and reason it both for Juno and for herself. “If the others are still at the library we have to keep them safe until we can figure out a way to get them out of here.” The east corridor would be left without working safety shutters, but at least the west wing would be more safe for the time being.

Juno look Jill over once more and then nod with a smile “Sure, sounds good.” They extend their arm “Give me the cord, let’s get this over with.” It was a plan formed one step at the time and it suit her just fine. [Jill lost the replacement cord]. “Care to give something extra for my troubles? I feel a bit naked out here.” The joking tone didn’t mask the nervousness Juno show as they step out of the archives to the west corridor. They lack a proper weapon. Seemingly the police officers who put her up to this task either didn’t have any to spare.. Or they didn’t care if Juno would report back to them or not.

Could part with something... Jill was running low on ammo for her firearms, but she still prefer to keep them. “Take this.” She pass the stun gun to Juno before they start working on the control panel again. [Jill lost the stun gun].

[Randomized outcome]. A bang came from the door that lead back towards the main hall. Jill pull out her weapon and prepare herself to keep the infected back while Juno rip out the old cord and start to fit in the replacement. The handle turn violently and then the door swung open with two of the infected bursting in. “I will hold them back.”

Shit... Realizing Jill had only one bullet in her pistol she switch it up for the shotgun. Get close and take out both of them. She had only two shells left, but if she would fire at the last minute she should be able to take both of them down with one. [Skill challenge 3, Jill succeeds with firearms at 7]. The gun fire and the blast hit them from close range. [Randomized outcome] Both of the infected fly back and hit the floor, neither of them would be getting up. Jill lower her weapon.

Behind her came the sound of safety shutters closing down. It was a clanking sound that repeat with each shutter going down and locking itself to prevent the entry through the windows. Jill heard Juno laugh and she couldn’t help but to do the same. The relief was palpable even if she knew that the other infected heard the gun fire and would soon head this way. Jill turn around to see Juno and for a moment she had the urge to run up to them and hug them. The grin the other had made Jill think that the feeling was mutual. Still, they had to hurry.

“I’m going upstairs.” Jill huff out the last chuckle and turn serious again. “Will you come with me?” She suggest teaming up for the time being. Juno would have to report back to the officers in charge of her soon at the press room, but the moans of the infected coming from the main hall gave a good reason for Juno to follow Jill for a while until they would find a safer route there. They could go their separate ways after that.

There was pause as Juno thought of what she should do. Jill felt something was off, but didn’t know what it was nor did she ask. After a moment they nod “Don’t really want to throw down with the guys back there.” Juno look past Jill towards the open door where the moans echo through and got closer each passing second. Their eyes went low to stare at the two infected on the floor before they look back at Jill. “Let’s go.” They pick up their tool box and wait for Jill to take the lead.

They enter the second half of the west corridor where the windows were boarded up for the most part. There was no infected in sight, so all of them must have followed Jill when they first start the chase. “Go low and quiet.” Jill whisper and signal Juno to hunch down. “Keep next to the windows.” They would have to try sneak through. Hope we have better luck. The boarded windows slow down the infected and offer cover, but the corridor wasn’t safe as Jill had learn going through it the last time. They start to move.

“I fucking hate this..” Juno whisper back. It was unnerving to sneak right under the nose of the infected who lurk somewhere outside. They draw a breath and held it as they move past the window that no longer had boards on it.

Jill remember it well, it was the one which the infected break through after they notice Jill. [Skill challenge 8, Jill succeeds with intrigue at 8] Everything was going well, they were almost past the operations room. “Almost through.” [Randomized outcome - Juno succeeds] The luck was on their side. They made it out of the corridor without being seen. They were at the small corridor that lead to the stairway.

The door to the evidence room was left open since the infected had went through it to chase after Jill to the information office. The area around the stairway seem to be clear and it was safe to pass through into the dark room, even if the lonely window next to the stairs made Jill feel as if something was watching them. “Come on.” They enter the room and Jill had a chance to sort out her inventory.

Closing the door behind them Jill felt her whole body relax as the tension wash away with the knowledge of being in a safe room. Her heart still beat fast, but it would settle down soon. The adrenaline would soon wear off. It seem Juno felt the same with the way they sit up on the writing desk to rest their feet after checking the room.

Opening the item box Jill start to drop the unnecessary items. Then when she was about to drop of the bottle of brandy she hesitate. It could be sold or given out as a gift, but.. I Could really use a drink. They were safe for now, why not take a break and relax for a bit?

[Vote for what Jill should do]

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 262: A Fierce Bad Rabbit

Previously on BnHA: The hospital raid squad, which had two jobs consisting of (1) not letting Ujiko get away, and (2) not letting any of the Noumu break free to go ravage the countryside, impressively failed at both of these tasks (or so I assume) in a remarkably short amount of time. The EndeavorZawaMicLock squad were all occupied with having a very destructive fight in the hospital lobby, leaving my girl Miruko, Goddess of Courage and First of Her Name, to do pretty much all the heavy lifting, which, fine!! Except that Ujiko remembered that he had a bunch of High End Noumus just floating there waiting to be activated, and he was all “!!” and fucking activated them, and like five of them went after Miruko all at once and smashed her into a bunch of machinery and glass tubes, which frankly should have killed her but it didn’t because she’s a fucking boss. But now it’s just her (and Crust, who might do something too, but for now JURY’S STILL OUT) against all these guys while Ujiko speeds off to grab Tomura and abscond. So basically everything that could go wrong has already gone wrong so UH. OKAY.

Today on BnHA: Miruko kicks ass. Then she checks her watch and sees that there’s still time for her to kick more ass, so she does. Then there is still time, because this chapter is all about her kicking ass! So she kicks even more ass!! It’s great!! I have no complaints!! She decapitates a man with her thighs!! That’s a thing that really happens!! Also she loses an arm but WHO HASN’T LOST AND/OR BROKEN THEIR ARMS IN THIS SERIES, REALLY. Everyone is doing it. Somehow she manages to make it look cool because Miruko. Miruko can strangle a man with a cordless phone. She can kill two stones with one bird. Miruko makes onions cry. Death once had a near-Miruko experience. Mirukoooooooo. Anyway the chapter ends with Skeptic warning everyone at The Ol’ Villain Hotel that the heroes are coming, so basically WELCOME BACK, EVERYONE, this manga is back with a vengeance.

guys I’m gonna try to do this recap fast because I’m seeing Heroes Rising tonight at 7:30! and I’m so excited! and for those that asked, yes I do plan on doing some kind of write-up about it, though it’ll all be from memory after the fact so we’ll see how that goes. but !! I’ve waited 84 years for this ahhhhh but anyway so in the meantime let’s see what new and creative ways our heroes are finding to screw this up even more

(ETA: I did it but this thing isn’t edited for shit lol. after I get back I’ll give it a more thorough readthrough so sorry if I missed any really obvious errors! also there are probably way more exclamation points than usual which may or may not be a plus or minus.)

look at this helpful announcement

High End Noumu approaching, everyone. you have been warned. just in case you somehow failed to notice?? IT’S RIGHT THERE Y’ALL LOOK OUT

lmao FINALLY

MORE HEROES. YOU ALL CERTAINLY TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME, but hey welcome to the party. and none of that “I don’t see how that’s a party” sassy shit either. you all know what I’m talking about so get out there and have fun

so they’re standing there all “it’s a talking Noumu!” and YEAH. that’s what I’ve been fucking trying to tell you. thank god someone finally fucking said it out loud so that hopefully the EZML squad can finally take notice of this as well. like guys. bigger fish?! get to frying!!

so now Crust is all “there are more of them ahead, Miruko’s in danger!” which, again, thanks for finally letting everyone else in on this formerly exclusive scoop there pal. ‘preciate it

I... really do not understand Crust’s quirk at all. I’m just gonna own up to it

what is this. what does “zuga” mean fx-wise. why did those scale things on his arms get so big. what are they made of. what’s happening

oh it turns out that if you scroll and read more instead of pausing for ages to ask dumb questions, the thing you were asking about might actually be explained in great detail in the very next panel

but what are they made out of though. and why “Crust”?? ah well I suppose that’s a question for someone who actually cares more than I do

by the way the quality of this scan is actually really good so far, I gotta say. we’re only two pages in, true, but they either cleaned this up really nicely, or this was a much higher-quality scan than usual. either way I am appreciative!

lol this poor Noumu is shook

what did I name you two weeks ago, again? Rusty?? anyways he’s doing his best you guys. gambare my dude, though actually you do need to die, so that’s too bad though

Crust is all “you pitiful living corpse!” with tears in his eyes because he’s dramatic! but jokes aside I do appreciate that he has compassion for these monsters who are all still basically innocent victims at the end of the day

does anyone else actually hear that funny-sounding anime narrator guy in your head nowadays when you read panels like this lol

I can hear the voice so clearly and it’s great

only ten times the strength of a normal human, guys. that’s actually not that bad. I’m only half joking lol. because obviously your average hero is going to be much stronger than a so-called “normal” person too, yes? and I’m pretty sure Miruko has the strength of like 30 humans but I may be overestimating her just slightly but am I though

oh lol I apparently did not learn my lesson about doing commentary before I’m done reading hahaha

so High Ends are on a different tier of their own above even the “high” tier. well that’s just. yeah that sounds more like the “we’re still fucked” update that I was expecting

oh wait, seriously??

are you telling me that all of the High Ends were actually cultivated from villains? so maybe not completely innocent, then? is this Horikoshi’s way of trying to make us feel marginally better about the fact that the heroes are shortly henceforth going to have to exterminate these guys with great prejudice? I mean they’re still basically slaves to Ujiko’s programming now though so that sucks

also I missed this earlier but the narration here basically just confirmed that Noumu are all made from corpses. which I kind of suspected, but the still-very-much-alive Tomura would then be a glaring contradiction to that, no? or is that why he’s so special. anyway I do appreciate that we’re getting a lot of much-awaited answers in this Noumu arc, but some of this is also just raising more questions. gotta be patient I guess

speaking of Tomura, Ujiko’s back in the Tomura room, so. I assume some absconding is soon to occur

oh shit!! so there’s another panel explaining that “artificial transplant of quirks” requires surgery and then three months of stabilization time following that. sooooo I’m pretty sure this mofo just confirmed that he gave Tomura some shiny additional new quirks, so that’s nice! that’s real fucking great! I know we were all eyeing Tomura skeptically and thinking to ourselves “this is almost just right, but needs more death”

wait, what?

“I was already dead anyway” meaning that he knows there’s no way out for him? and so he doesn’t have a secret way out of the lab?? ??? can that really be true?? our intrepid heroes actually did their job right and the villains had no contingency plan?? oh my god I am so terrified of letting my guard down lmao I still refuse to believe this at all

and is that Tomura who’s at 70% stabilization? that would seem to fit with the timeline we were given. holy shit is he unboxing him early fsdfkjalsdk are we about to go from “fucked” to “exorbitantly fucked”

and why am I strangely excited about it sob!!

HAHAHAHA OH GOD

so this is how liberty dies. with a beep

also fuck you all, now it’s at 71%?! couldn’t leave it at a nice even number for us, could you? you just had to throw that extra percent in there at the last moment to fuck with us all

anyway did you all catch how fucking ripped he was there though? like boiiii whaaaaat. clearly his abs are already at 100%

OH MY GOD

DOES NOTHING FUCKING FAZE THIS BEAUTIFUL, RULE-BREAKING MOTH

HAHAHA

RIGHT??

HOLY FUCKING MOLY

friendly reminder that Dabi was all good and ready to throw down with both Endeavor and Hawks (who were admittedly weakened by that point) that one time a while back, but then Miruko showed up and he was all “lol nope I think the fuck not” and warped out of there. Dabi, whose quirk is so powerful that its only apparent downside is the fact that it roasts him alive as well. that Dabi took one look at Miruko and decided he likes having his spine intact and fucking vamoosed, because that is the smart fucking thing to do when this girl shows up smiling at you the way that she is smiling at these Noumu now

anyway. fucking Ujiko knew he needed at least five High Ends to even stand a chance of slowing her down, is all I’m saying. y’all better respect the FUCK out of Miruko, everyone. it’s the law

anyway. so. quirk: bunny. can smash rl gud

someone needs to ask Horikoshi the fuck kind of rabbits he has been hanging out with. applied that “and more!” part pretty fucking liberally huh. WHO DID YOU SAY TRIX WERE FOR AGAIN, CHILDREN??

NOBODY THROWS MIRUKO IN THE BRIAR PATCH AND GETS AWAY WITH IT

fffwhatttttttttt

that would be our good buddy Max Rebo. so that’s definitely not an elephant trunk-like thing then. we may need a new name for you

on a side note, I never thought we’d meet another character who looks more like Katsuki than Mitsuki does, and yet every damn week Miruko is proving me wrong. goddamn she is great

lmao wait maybe that wasn’t Max at all, but Jester. because this is clearly Max over here

so Girl!Noumu is a water bender, Jester can do... something weird with his hair, and Max can do anything an elephant can do if that elephant was also powered by steam. nice

HAHAHA BUT MIRUKO IS ALL “KICK!!!”

HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK!!!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. I WOULD READ AN ENTIRE MANGA OF JUST THIS LMAO THIS IS TOO MUCH ADRENALINE I CAN’T

JESTER’S WEIRD SPIKY ROCK HAIR IS SLICING HER ARM AND SHE’S ALL “THAT HURTS YOU JERK!!!!” AND GETTING READY TO FREAKING PILEDRIVE HIM I CAN’T, THOUGH!?

SDKFJLDKSJFLKJ

HER FATHER PEPPY TAUGHT HER THAT. BARREL ROLL ALL OVER THESE BITCHES!!

WHAT THE FUCK

FUCKING QUIRKS!!!! THOUGH!!!! WILLLLLLLLLD

SDKFJLAS;DHK OH MY GOD OH SHIT

real talk this is the scariest fucking quirk I’ve ever seen I was like what the fuck looking at her arm and then I saw him doing the twisty hand gesture and just. fuck. YOU’RE NOT CRIMSON RIOT AT ALL YOU’RE SOME PSYCHO TELEKINETIC BITCH AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!!

NO!!!!!

fuck fuck fuck. I’M SURE HER ARM’S GOING TO BE JUST FINE AND DANDY AFTER THIS GUYS, DON’T WORRY. THIS MANGA HAS SUCH A SERENE AND TRANQUIL HISTORY WITH ARMS. ISN’T THAT RIGHT DEKU

though on the plus side, if she does lose that arm we can count on her to somehow instantly become like 50x more attractive, which I’m pretty sure might cause the very fabric of the universe to unravel but it would be worth it

(ETA: SHE DID AND IT WAS!!)

MADAME PRESIDENT!! MY QUEEN

OH HELL YERRRRRR

fucking hell guys I’m running out of exclamation points and excited things to say here. AND SHE JUST KEEPS GOING! LIKE HER MOM THE ENERGIZER BUNNY BEFORE HER

I’M SORRY UJIKO DID YOU THINK FIVE HIGH ENDS WAS ENOUGH?! MAYBE NEXT TIME WE MAKE IT TEN, HOW ABOUT THAT. FUCK OFF

lmao holy shit I can’t stop laughingggg

well Crimson, at least you get to die happy. is she literally going to crush his face between her thighs. is this entire chapter just one big prank on me. if Miruko was the protagonist would this series have ended in the first chapter. trick question, the answer is it never would have started to begin with because she would have killed All for One years ago!! how much would it cost to hire Miruko to come kick away all of my problems for me

hello good afternoon everyone this is a real panel that really happened in this manga

I don’t even know what to say about anything anymore

sob she’s all “YEAH RIGHT” and SNAPPING HIS FUCKING NECK WITH A FUCKING TRIANGLE CHOKE, THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, FUCKING LOOK!! AT!! THIS!!!

we’re not even gonna make it to 300 chapters. Horikoshi held off for as long as he could, but eventually Miruko couldn’t be contained any longer and he had to unleash her and she instantly went and reckt every last fucking bad guy out there until there was nothing left. who are the kids even going to fight. nobody that’s who. go back to school kids

SON OF A BITCH WHAT IS HAPPENING

THIS IS THE MOST VIOLENT THING I HAVE EVER FUCKING SEEN AND YET SOMEHOW I SWEAR I CAN HEAR ANGELS SINGING. RESPLENDENT

SOBBING!!!!

“S’POSE I SHOULD GET THIS ANNOYING THING CHECKED OUT BEFORE I BLEED TO DEATH OR SOME BULLSHIT.” WHAT AN INCONVENIENCE. JUST A FUCKING FLESH WOUND. NOBODY USES ARMS THESE DAYS ANYWAY

“IF THE ONLY WAY TO STOP YOU IS BY CRUSHING YOUR HEADS THIS WILL BE WAY EASIER THAN HOLDING BACK ON A NORMAL VILLAIN.” SOB THIS IS MIRUKO’S WORLD AND WE’RE ALL JUST BEGRUDGINGLY ALLOWED TO EXIST IN IT. MY BARONESS

DID YOU JUST TOURNIQUET YOUR DISMEMBERED FUCKING LIMB WITH YOUR OWN FUCKING HAIR ONE-HANDED FFCKCK KCKCLK JUST MIRUKO THINGS

Miruko also saw Horikoshi getting ready to end the chapter after 17 pages and was like “EXCUSE YOU THERE” and he backed off because he actually likes having a fucking head thank you very much

LMAO AND NOW OF ALL TIMES WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE OL’ VILLAIN RESORT. SIGH

Skeptic seems to have finally cottoned on to them being in some kind of trouble. huh

how does he know it was Jin who screwed up?? did he realize that Hawks betrayed them oh shit!?!

OOP HE’S SOUNDING THE ALARM

AND THE CHAPTER IS ENDING. BUT I’M NOT DONE SCREAMING. AHHHHHH well anyways I’m off to watch my children kick lots of ass on the big screen. assuming I can get this posted in time with zero editing whatsoever lol I’ve got like... an hour. WE SHALL SEE!

(ETA: we did it lol just barely! this whole thing is probably a giant mess but oh well! Mirukoooooo)

[alarawriting]

Writeober 2020 #23: Space

Through the polarized faceplate of her suit, the sun was a round, sharply edged disk of brilliance, sitting low to the horizon, surrounded by a black sky.  The polarization blocked the stars if she looked sunward, but nightward, once she let the plate adjust, she could see the earthshine of the half-planet hovering ghostly on the horizon.  The solar plates were a forest of bright mirrors around her, glittering only slightly less brightly than they had a week ago at high noon.

“Lavonne, you moving on to Serenity this week?”

Serenity.  She smiled bitterly to herself.  She stood now in the Sea of Crisis, Mare Crisium, and she didn’t know when she’d be moving on to Serenity again. At least she hadn’t been working at Fecundity this moonday – the irony would have been a little over the top. “No, I’m seeing Mal.  Gonna help bring the water trucks in and then it’s my days off.”

The com in her suit had lousy sound quality, and it was audio only, but she still thought she could hear Jenia’s grin.  “Oh, yeah, I forgot.  He’s coming in this run, isn’t he?”

“Comes in every other night. One month out, one month back.”

“Girl, you should get you a man on a short-hauler.  Or a Loonie boy right here.  I tell you, I couldn’t deal with my man being gone two months at a time.”

“It’s good money.  And he’s just going out to the ‘roids, it’s not like he’s on a Saturn hauler or something.”

“Uh-uh.  Not for me.”

“Well, good, ‘cause I wasn’t planning to share.”

Jenia laughed.  “You make sure he takes you somewhere nice with all that good money, then.”

“Nearest fine restaurant’s in Tranquility.  I only got him for three spins, I’d rather eat in the commissary or my apartment and stay in, if you get me.”

More laughter.  “Well, you have a good time whatever way you want it, then.”  A faint beep. “Got shutdowns to do.  I’ll talk to you later, girlfriend.”

“Later.”  Maybe much, much later. She wasn’t saying anything yet, not until she talked to Mal, but this was not going to be a funtime, playing around kind of visit.  Her career on the Moon was probably over, and what happened next depended on what kind of man Mal really was.

***

By two earthdays later, night had fallen.  Most of the crew had moved on with the sun, to Serenity or Tranquility or one of the farther maria like Imbrium.  Lavonne had stayed behind as part of the unloading crew to help the truckers unload their cargo.  It was a legitimate job, part of her regular assignments, but she’d gotten herself assigned to it because of her year-long romance with a trucker.  

Nighttime on the Moon was when the majority of the trucks came in.  Short-haulers came in from Earth with holds full of liquid nitrogen, hydroponic fertilizer, or trade goods, and needed to be loaded up with the fuel cells the solar arrays were here to manufacture.  Medium-haulers came in from Mars or the asteroid belt with water ice or metals from the mines out there.  The water ice, in particular, was vital to the operations here; the solar arrays electrolyzed it into hydrogen for the fuel cells and oxygen for breathing mixes.  Long-haulers came in from Saturn or farther with methane ice, more valuable than water ice because it packed tighter and generated more hydrogen per molecule, but less common in the asteroid belt and a lot more volatile.  Lavonne worked with the medium-haulers, unloading the water ice into the bays where it would be melted and readied to be electrolyzed next lunar sunrise.  When the time rolled around that she expected Mal to be coming in, she took a break from the ice bays and went directly to the cargo hangar.

Malachi Lazaroff was a tall, skinny guy with the oddly elongated limbs of the spaceborn.  In fact, for spaceborn he was short, just under two meters.  He had shaggy black hair in a perpetual mess and skin that might be nicely tanned if it ever went near sunlight, but instead was pasty pale with a grayish tinge to it. He had thick implanted contacts that made his big brown eyes look bigger than they really were, and he moved in Moon gee with the economical fluidity of a man who’d never kicked a ball on Earth. “Lavonne!”  He jumped down from the edge of his truck’s hold and reached her in three steps, grabbing her in a big hug.  “I am so glad to see you, honey, you have no idea!”

They were in the hangar, under pressurization – the ice could theoretically be unloaded topside, since it was night, but iceteroids were jagged and could rip a spacesuit, so truckers and loaders both preferred to bring the trucks all the way into the hangar when they’d fit.  So Mal could afford to be a little exuberant, but Lavonne wasn’t in the mood.  She extricated herself as soon as she could. “What’s wrong, Vonne?”

“Nothing,” Lavonne said, which wasn’t true, and “It’s been a bad month, that’s all, and I’m all tense,” which was.  “Looks like you got most of your haul unloaded already?”

“Yeah, I got in half an hour early.  Some other guy took a hit and got delayed, so I got his window.”

“A hit?  He okay, you know?”

“The way I heard it, he lost half his air when a microid punched a hole in his hull, and he had to detour to Little Mars to resupply after he patched it, but yeah, he’s okay.   He’s just not going to make it to Crisis with his haul; he’ll probably have to come in at Imbrium or maybe even darkside.”

When things went right, travel in space went like clockwork.  You could predict to the minute when a medium-hauler currently leaving the asteroid belt with a cargo of iceteroids would reach Luna, and where it would come in, if you knew the weight of the cargo and the exact position of the truck. The iceteroid haulers who supplied HydroGenius’ fuel cell manufacturing operations would try to come in as close to nightfall as they could.  Iceteroids couldn’t be brought in sunside, or the heat would sublimate them in the cargo holds, and the pressure of 200 metric tons of ice turning to steam had been known to blow ships apart.  But they needed to be in place, in water form, ready to be electrolyzed, when day broke again and the solar panels started back up.  This meant that the best time to bring in a cargo was within a spin or two – a day on Earth -- after lunar night fell, when the biggest hauls still had time to be processed before daybreak.  The big rigs were assigned timeslots and locations based on their cargo size, and if everything went right there would be no deviation.

Usually, things going wrong meant someone had ended up dead.  The hauler whose slot Mal took had been lucky, Lavonne thought.  Trucks could survive a hit from a micro if the trucker was fast enough to patch the damage before he lost too much air. Miniteroids and anything larger hitting a truck would usually blow it to bits.

“So you’re nearly done, here.”

“Looks like it,” he agreed. “You want to go to dinner?”

Lavonne made a face. “Commissary food ain’t shit.  I’ve got a kitchen unit in my apartment; why don’t I cook us up some spaghetti?”

“Sounds good. I love your spaghetti.”

***

She was putting this conversation off.

The kitchen was too small for two people to work, but Mal helped by chopping tomatoes and peppers for her in the tiny dining area. Chopping vegetables under luna-g was a skill in itself. It was too easy to do the work; an Earther’s arm would be too light. A recipe for accidentally chopping off your own finger because force you were used to using on Earth was too strong on the moon, and with greater strength and speed came less accuracy. Spaceborn like Mal were much better at it.

In theory, lunarborn would be even better, but there were no lunarborn. A tangled mess of international law prevented the Moon from either being under the control of any one nation, or under its own control, so there were nothing but company towns up here. And in a company town, you worked, and you went back to Earth if you couldn’t.

Spaceborn couldn’t return to Earth – the gravity would be too much for their hearts – but for them, it wasn’t returning. People born on the stations and outposts and ships had never seen Earth, and a generation after space travel had solved Earth’s energy problems, neither had most of their parents. People who lived on the Moon didn’t live here. Their legal homes were back on Earth. There were no facilities here for children or people too sick or disabled to work; if you got hurt or sick and you couldn’t work, you got shipped back to Earth. It was your home. The Moon was just a job site.

Except that if you’d been working on the Moon for five years or more, the Moon wasn’t just a job site. It was where all your recent work experience was, too. People returning to Earth because they’d quit the job couldn’t get new ones nearly as well-paid, and on Earth, you didn’t get a free place to live as part of most people’s employment… and you were competing with truckers and haulers and technicians who weren’t exhausted by the return to earth-g. No one Lavonne knew who’d left the Moon had a decent standard of living, now.

She got the sauce with its spices, the fake hamburger, and the tomatoes and peppers into pressure cooker 1, and took the spaghetti, nicely boiled, out of pressure cooker 2. “Just waiting for the sauce,” she said.

Lavonne could start talking about this. She could tell Mal the choice she faced, see what he was willing to do to help, see if there was any solution he could think of beyond the paths she’d thought up, paths she didn’t want to take. But she didn’t want to have to interrupt herself when the sauce came up. Also, she wanted to put this off as much as she wanted to have it behind her.

Mal filled in the gaps, telling her about his last run, the methane iceteroid he almost managed to catch, gossip about his spaceborn friends and family. She’d never met any of them, but he talked about them so often, it was like they lived next door. “…and Noah’s having his bar mitzvah month after next, so I was thinking, maybe you could take some vacation days and come out to Mars Station with me, meet my family? I’ve told them all about you and they’re dying to meet you.”

Lavonne was brought up short by the sudden question. Normally when Mal rambled, she didn’t need to listen too hard, and she certainly didn’t need to answer. Last month her answer would have been “yes”, and if she had a choice it would still be “yes”, but she had yet to talk to him. “That’s, uh. That’s lovely. I mean, I’d love to, if things work out.”

The sauce was ready, thank God. She ladled generous amounts onto the two bowls of spaghetti, and walked carefully, almost shuffling but with long strides, around the side of the counter to the tiny dining area. In a hangar, she could walk normally, but in her tiny apartment, with two bowls of spaghetti in her hands, that was asking for trouble. Keep the feet mostly on the ground, that was the way to not go flying.

“What do you mean, if things work out? Is – Are we having a problem? I didn’t think we were having a problem, I thought everything was going okay…”

“It’s not a you and me problem… well, it is, but not in our relationship… well, it kind of is about our relationship, but it isn’t… oh, fuck it. I’m pregnant, Mal.”

Mal broke into a broad smile. “That’s wonderful!” And then he read her face. “Or… it’s not. You… I guess we’ve never had the kids talk, have we? You don’t want kids?”

Lavonne sat down, as heavily as luna-g would let her. “Mal. You’re spaceborn. You’ve got no folks back on Earth. If you and I went off to Mars Station to live together with a kid, there’s no downside to you. But I’m Earther. I got Earth family, and if I have a kid on Mars Station, that kid’s never gonna see his gramma, his aunties, his uncle, he’s never gonna meet his cousins… I’ve got a big family, too. I love ‘em, too. I don’t want to cut a kid off from his heritage.”

“But I can’t go to Earth,” Mal said, nodding slowly. “Well… I feel like that’s a thing we could solve, I mean, people on Mars Station have kids with people on Lagrange 2 have kids with people on Phobos Outpost, and you just shuttle around between the two families. Isn’t it like that on Earth?”

“If both families are on Earth, sure. But…” She took a deep breath. “If I quit my job to go back Earthside, there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to get it back again any time soon. And you can’t take a baby into space. I’d be stuck down there, without you, until the kid is three… and without my job, I don’t know how I’d afford to get back up into space. You know, down there, you don’t get to just shuttle around the solar system. You’re rich as hell, or you work for one of the lunar corps or a space corp, or you have a government grant, or you’re in NASA or one of the other national space agencies… and if none of that’s true, you’re gonna spend your whole life down there. Maybe you can afford one tourist vacation, in your lifetime, if you scrimp and save for it.”

“Ah, shit.” Mal sighed. “Okay. I’m seeing the dilemma.”

He didn’t ask why she was pregnant. The laws that restricted human behavior on the Moon were heavily influenced by a number of very conservative governments. Birth control couldn’t be shipped to the Moon. Lavonne had been sourcing her birth control from a black market network that came in from the spaceborn, but the supply sometimes dried up for exactly the wrong few weeks. They’d used condoms, the only form of birth control you could get on the Moon, but in luna-g they worked really, really badly.

“So. I go down for a medical procedure and I get rid of it – and you know if I take a flight down to Sweden or something, they’re gonna know something’s up – or, we have to decide which side of the kid’s family he’ll lose out on ever getting to meet. And if we leave out space, you, his dad, you won’t be able to be with him until he’s grown up enough to get his own moon job. But if we leave out Earth, he’ll be cut off from it forever.” It was also company policy that employees who could get pregnant could not get abortions, and doing so would be justified grounds for dismissal. The company wouldn’t be able to tell she was going down for that reason – but if she went home to the United States, she couldn’t get one without being rich, and if she went from there to Europe that would kill a good bit of her savings, but if she went directly down to the countries where it was legal, the company did know where her family lived, and that it wasn’t Europe. And because the company provided all the medical care up here, if they had good reason to suspect her, they could pull her medical records from Earth.

“That… is a really shitty choice to have to make,” Mal said. “I’m sorry. They should let people form a colony on the Moon. This whole ‘you can’t really live here, you can’t have kids on the moon’ thing is bullshit.”

“Tell me about it.”

He shook his head. “I know… I know my folks would be crushed if I had a kid and they couldn’t see him. But I’m guessing yours would too.”

The Jewish families in space were tight-knit, with a strong focus on families, because all over Earth the Jewish diaspora was like that, after generations of pogroms and antisemitic violence. The Black families in the United States were the same way, after hundreds of years of overpolicing and perverse incentives had destroyed the connection between Black men and the rest of their families, over so many generations. Both Mal’s parents and Lavonne’s would see the loss of a grandchild to a place they could never go as heartbreaking.

“Yeah,” Lavonne said. “I just don’t know what to do.”

[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 10: Pleck

Pleck’s heart was an aching hunk of lead in his chest, but this was alleviated somewhat by being crammed inside a storage closet with his best friend. His best friend who was a dehumidifier filled with sand. The absurdity of it was not lost on him.

Despite his best efforts, this droid would not quit on him. C-53 had stubbornly planted himself in a barely functional frame just to fit down the hallway and come talk to Pleck. His stomach had done a backflip when he saw him waiting outside his door.

Once C-53 had maneuvered his frame into the corner of his room, Pleck slid down beside him to squeeze himself between the droid and the wall. It was a tight fit and neither of them were comfortable. He kept the light off. It felt safer that way.

The dehumidifier hummed in a grainy sort of way beside him, and Pleck could feel the subtle vibration against his shoulder. “That doesn’t sound good,” he said.

“Yeah, well,” C-53 answered wryly. “It was kind of the only frame we had that would fit in here.”

Pleck flinched. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, getting shafted on bedroom options?” C-53 responded hotly. Then his voice lost its edge. “Sorry. I just… I miss you, okay?”

“I miss you, too,” Pleck said, softly, genuinely. He missed C-53 more than anything. Being away from him, after giving over so much of himself, felt like removing a limb.

“Then why are you hiding?” his friend asked. “Can we talk about it?”

Pleck tensed at the idea of divulging his impending doom to the droid beside him, but C-53 spoke up again before he could even begin to fabricate an excuse.

“Don’t think you can run away this time,” he said. “I’ll follow you all over Bargie and run into your knees. We’ll both hate it.”

Pleck chuckled halfheartedly at the threat. He kneaded the heel of his palm into his good eye and heaved a sigh.

“C-53, listen,” he began, “I’m… glad you came after me. Seriously, but,” he pressed his hand into his eye harder, watching starbursts of light pop behind his eyelid. “I really don’t wanna tell you about this.”

“Why?” C-53 asked. He sounded somewhat hurt, and it sent a pang through Pleck’s chest.

“Because-” he dropped his hand into his lap. “It’s – you’re gonna be mad.”

“I’m already mad.”

“I’m sorry,” Pleck repeated forlornly.

He pulled his legs up against his chest and crossed his arms over his knees. They were both silent. The lights on C-53’s control panel glowed softly in the darkness and Pleck found himself staring, transfixed, at their blinking pattern. He really was beautiful in every frame. Pleck wondered if the droid was aware of this, if it was something he even thought about.

Rodd, he missed him. His resolve was weak and his heart was hurting. C-53 had already taken every burden Pleck put on him without judgment, so he finally broke down and gave him one more.

“Derf told me that to defeat the Allwheat I need to go inside it,” he said. “And that I’ll probably die in the process.”

There. It was out. He buried his face in his arms.

A loud, mechanical grating sound came from within C-53’s frame. “Go inside it?” he echoed, vocal modulator climbing in volume.

“After I master the Stuff, yeah,” Pleck clarified, his response muffled by the fabric of his robe.

“After you – Pleck, are you serious?”

“I mean-”

“No,” the droid cut him off. Pleck could feel the surface of the dehumidifier heating up against his shoulder. “No, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he answered, raising his head to shoot C-53 a defensive look. “I think it’s my only idea.”

“It’s not your only idea, it’s Derf’s only idea. There’s a big difference there.”

“Derf has never been wrong before!”

“Oh, I can think of a pretty long list of times Derf has been wrong.” There was acid in C-53’s voice. “What the juck is your problem? You think we’re just going to let you throw yourself into a black hole?”

“If it means saving the galaxy, yes!” Pleck shot back.

“No,” the droid repeated stubbornly. “Whether something like that saves the galaxy or not doesn’t matter. This isn’t all on you.”

“Yes, it is.” Pleck insisted.

“ Why ?”

“Because it’s my fault!” Pleck’s voice broke as the words ripped violently out of him. His throat locked and his eye welled up. This time, he didn’t bother holding back his tears. “It’s my fault,” he choked out quietly. “It’s my fault everything’s like this. It has to be me.”

C-53 made a deep, low hum that vibrated his whole frame. Pleck wasn’t sure what it meant. He was so warm where he sat next to him – he hoped the conversation wouldn’t make him overheat.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Pleck said, tears still slipping down his cheek. “I know you put a lot of effort into helping me, but I have to do this. I don’t wanna waste your time anymore if I’m just gonna end up dying in a few months.”

When C-53 spoke, his voice was harsh with emotion. “Pleck, you idiot,” he ground out. “Did it ever occur to you that I spent all that time with you because I like you?”

Pleck blinked, momentarily derailed from his pity party. “Well, sure you do, you’re my best friend,” he said, a little lost.

“Not,” the droid sighed, “like that.” He sounded pained.

“Oh.” He was quiet for a moment. Then his brain caught up to his ears, and he was suddenly blindsided by shock. “Wait, really ?”

“Yeah, now he gets it.”

“You-” Pleck flushed from head to toe, feeling like Bargie was doing somersaults in space, tilting the floor beneath him. A giddy, bewildered laugh hiccupped out of him. All this time he’d spent pining for his best friend, and he actually returned his feelings? It sounded impossible, like the droid had taken a daydream out of Pleck’s head and made it real. “You really – I – Me ?”

“Yes, you.” Fondness bled into C-53’s voice. It sounded the same way it always did when they shared quiet moments together. Pleck couldn’t believe he had never picked up on it.

He squirmed sideways so he could face C-53 better. In the limited space, he had to curl his body slightly around the dehumidifier to make the position work. His frame was still very warm, though now he wasn’t sure if it was from residual frustration or simply from being next to Pleck, who positively felt like a radiator.

“But I’m me,” he said softly. He found it hard to grasp that someone so wonderful could have feelings for someone like him. Pleck Decksetter. Tellurian disaster.

“I am very aware of this,” C-53 acknowledged. He sounded amused now. “Are there any other obvious things you’d like to point out?”

Pleck leaned in to rest his forehead against his frame. “Well, I mean,” he inhaled, rallying himself. “I kinda like you, too.”

It was still hard to get out, even with the safety net of C-53’s affection to leap into. His fingertips were trembling. He pressed his hands against his frame to steady them. “Actually, y’know what? No. I like you a lot ,” he spilled breathlessly. “Like, a ridiculous amount.”

“I know.” C-53 answered gently.

He raised his head, surprised. “You do?”

“The whole crew knows, apparently.”

Pleck started laughing, embarrassed at how transparent he was. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I was incredibly delayed in realizing my feelings, but Dar and Bargie have seen this coming for a very long time.”

“Oh my Rodd.” Pleck shook his head, still smiling slightly. “I mean, I guess that makes sense. I’ve kinda been crushing on you for a long time.”

C-53’s processor hummed curiously. “How long?”

“Oh,” he blushed, if possible, even harder. “Since uh, back when you had your restraining bolt off for the first time, I think?”

Now C-53 was the one who was surprised. The incredulous trill in his voice was something that always made Pleck’s stomach flutter when he heard it. “ That was when you realized?” he asked. “I was relentlessly hostile to you.”

“It was cute,” Pleck laughed.

“Was not,” C-53 argued. “I belittled you mercilessly.”

“It was really cute,” he insisted.

He felt light and happy, like his heart was a tender bird finally freed from a cage. It was a relief to be able to say everything aloud. To share every affectionate thought that crossed his mind with the droid, finally, finally , after all this time. His palms were still shaking.

“Can you feel my hands right now?” he asked.

A short pause as C-53 analyzed his surroundings. “Unfortunately, I can only sense the moisture in the room,” he answered. “You’ve expelled a great deal of vapor while talking and you seem… rather sweaty.”

“Gross,” Pleck wrinkled his nose, but he was grinning.

“Not exactly the most romantic way this encounter could have gone,” the droid agreed.

Pleck settled in closer anyway, tracing the edges of C-53’s frame with light fingertips. He still couldn’t believe this was real. He wanted to hold him and hold him and hold him and never let go. He didn’t even care if his legs fell asleep, tucked against him as they were.

“Do you think you’ll reconsider killing yourself for the greater good?” C-53 broke the silence carefully.

His hand stilled, buoyant mood reeling back in. “I mean,” he hesitated. “If we can find another way, maybe…”

C-53 made that humming sound deep in his frame. It vibrated against him pleasantly. “We really need to work on your martyr complex,” he said.

“I don’t have a martyr complex,” Pleck replied defensively, but there was no edge to his words. He was feeling too soft to bother arguing.

“Sure,” C-53 went on. “Next time we run a heist, try not sacrificing yourself so the crew can escape. Then we’ll talk.”

He laughed weakly. “Okay, that’s- yeah, you got me there.”

Pleck would try, though. He would try for the droid beside him. Maybe there was another way. If there existed a chance to stay with C-53, he could fight and reach and claw for it.

“We all miss you,” C-53 continued. “Are you ready to go back out there? I’ll come with you.”

Pleck missed the crew, too. He felt fragile, though, like the gentlest breeze could break him. His heart was raw and sore as he held his best friend in the dark.

“Not yet,” he answered. “Soon, but - well, right now, I just want to stay here. With you. If you want?”

C-53 met him with the same constant grace he always reserved just for him. “Of course.”

And stay he did.

Chapter 9 <---

[solaneceae]

Crash

TW: Blood, major injury, major character death

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21035054/chapters/50771236

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

Everything hurt.

Dave slowly came back into clearheadedness, groaning in discomfort; he couldn’t get a good intake of air, his lungs constricted by the straps around his chest. A dozen or so alarms blared all around him, adding to his already dizzying headache. The cabin smelled of burning leather and plastic, the chemical scent so strong it almost made him gag. Good thing the windshield was broken, or else he’d probably choke on the fumes rising from the control panel before him.

“Dave? Dave, Mateo, you okay?” Linda’s voice rang out from somewhere behind him; it was raspy and strained, but it filled him with relief: she was alive. Oh thank fuck, she was alive.

“I’m fine,” he managed to wheeze out before devolving into a coughing fit. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his nose felt stuffed; the blood vessels must’ve burst during their rapid descent. “I- I think my seatbelt is stuck.”

He felt the plane shift slightly, shaken by uneven footsteps, then a warm hand settling on his right arm. “Hold on,” Linda said, emerging from behind his seat. She looked a bit worse for wear, her clothes ripped and sprouting a pretty bad limp, but other that that she seemed fine. “I have a pocket knife somewhere. I’ll get you out.”

As the nurse took out her utility knife from one of her pockets and started cutting through the strap, A strangled gasp rang out from somewhere in their right. “Linda? Dave? You guys here? I can’t see shit!”

“Mateo!” Dave called out, straining his neck in an attempt to check on his friend; but his shoulders were tightly bound against the seat, so the only thing he could see was the cracked glass windshield right in front of his colleague’s seat. He groaned in frustration. “We’re okay! ...I think. You?”

A short silence, then a pained intake of air. “I… dunno? I don’t feel hurt so I guess that’s good, but I’m also blind as a bat right now…”

“Might be the shock.” Linda responded, voice steady and strong, her gaze not deviating from her task. She really was nothing short of amazing, always keeping her cool while the world around them fell apart. “I’ll check on you in a minute, in the meantime don’t move an inch, you don’t want to dislodge something and risk getting hurt.”

Dave shook his head, trying to get his breathing under control. God, his head pounded like mad. “Linda,” he croaked out, “Linda, I- we crashed, we fucking crashed, how the fuck are we still alive-”

“Honestly? Could be Mateo’s piloting skills, or sheer dumb luck, but it’s a fucking miracle none of us passed out from the impact, and I’m not gonna question it.” the nurse spat, a few seconds before the security belt finally snapped in two, freeing Dave from the restrictive pressure.

The man took a deep, grateful breath before shakily getting up on his feet; the cabin tilted forward, the metal floor unsteady beneath him. He turned around to thank Linda, but a wet cough from Mateo cut him off and made his chest seize with anxiety. Something’s wrong, he could hear his instincts screaming at him.

He looked up past the nurse’s head, past the busted control panel, and his almost felt his heart stop at the sight that awaited him.

Mateo was slumped in the pilot’s seat, his head lolling forward, unseeing eyes blinking owlishly. Crimson liquid dribbled steadily from his lips, open in a stunned gasp; his hands roaming his chest frantically before settling on a sharp wooden branch.

The wooden branch poking from between his ribs, going through his shirt and all the way outside the plane through the broken windshield.

Dave’s blood ran cold. He barely heard Linda’s shocked gasp, the screeches and whines of the alarms fading into the background; his limbs started to shake uncontrollably as he took a step towards his best friend, a litany of no’s heaving out of his mouth, first whispered, then growing in volume until he was all but screaming.

He tripped on his way over to Mateo, barely catching himself on the armrest; he reached out at the treacherous branch stabbing the taller man -oh god, and now he could see the tip peeking out of the leather seat behind him, oh god oh fuck - from front to back, his fingers stopping about an inch away from it in fear of making it worse.

“Ah, fuck.” the latino growled, disbelief lacing his tone. “Y-Yeah, I can feel it now.”

His voice had a weird wheeze to it, growing stronger with every breath. Linda joined them at a brisk pace, looking horrified. She looked at the red stain slowly blooming around the wound. She shook her head, eyes wide and rimmed with red. “I… I think it went right through your left lung- we can’t get it out, you’d bleed out in seconds…”

Mateo nodded, wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries; blood steadily dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt, joining the ever-growing red stain. “Figures.” he whispered, showing his blood-soaked teeth in a stiff grin. “Well, at least I won’t go all sleep-zombie on you two.”

Dave was frozen, hands reaching up to pull at his hair. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. First Katie, now his best friend?

“Hey.”

Dave’s head jerked back up; Mateo was smiling down at him, his chest heaving in painful intakes of air. “It’s fine, Davie. I, uh, kinda knew something like this would happen. ‘Sides, it barely even hurts anymore. Think my body’s quitting on me, heh.”

The smaller male opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He just stared at his friend, watching as his strength left him, as his breaths became few and far between, as his eyes lost more and more of their focus. He didn’t move when Mateo slowly reached out to him, gently pawing at his shoulder, neck, and settling on his tear-tracked cheeks.

Was he crying? He couldn’t tell. Everything felt so cold and numb.

“Sorry,” Mateo chuckled, grimacing through the pain the motions stirred in him. “but I can’t exactly see your face right now, so…”

His calloused fingers delicately traced Dave’s features, brushing along his jawline, his nose, his brow-

“Guess this is the closest thing.”

“Mateo,” Dave choked, the knot in his throat finally loosening, “Fuck, I- I can’t fucking do this. Not without Katie, not without you- ”

The latino rolled his eyes. How was he still so flippant with a tree in his chest? “Bullshit. Pretty sure… you’re the only one here who can… figure out whatever the fuck really went down. So... you go and find that whale thing.”

Dave grabbed Mateo’s still roaming hands, clutching them so hard his joints became white. He grit his teeth, his frame wrecked with silent sobs. “I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

“The fuck you will… or else I’ll find a way to come back and kick your ass…”

“Mateo… I’m so sorry.” Linda said quietly, her voice a bit too steady for it to be natural. “Do you want something for the pain?”

Dave’s head shot up, eyeing her in disbelief. She couldn’t possibly mean-

“Nah,” Mateo brushed her off, his head lolling to the side. “Can’t feel much anymore, it’s fine.” He yawned. “M’gonna conk out soon anyway. But hey,” he smirked, “whatever’s doing this... can’t kill me if I’m already dead, yeah?”

Dave shook his head. “Don’t fucking say that shit…”

Mateo only hummed. “You’re a dumbass... you know that?” he whispered. “Oblivious as all fuck.”

The night guard’s eyes blinked, red from crying. He didn’t understand.

Mateo sighed. “Imma say it again, kay? And you better get it this time.”

“What-”

He yelped as Mateo mustered his remaining strength to pull his face close, resting Dave’s forehead against his own. He looked at him - really looked at him somehow despite his current blindness- and spoke, slow and deliberate.

“I love you.”

Mateo’s voice -despite the rasp and the wheeze from his pieced lung- was impossibly soft. His face betrayed something Dave had only seen in Katie until now. Something warm, careful, both immensely strong and frighteningly fragile.

Fond. Adoring.

Dave gasped as the realization hit him, and Mateo’s grin widened. “And now you get it.”

And with that, his eyelids fell shut, body going limp. His hands slid off Dave’s face, leaving crimson smudges in their wake.

“No!” Dave screamed, jumping on his feet to grab Mateo’s shoulders. “Fuck! Mateo!”

Linda turned away, her hand covering her mouth as her companion shook the taller man. “FUCK YOU!” Dave bellowed, his voice breaking. “You fucking asshole! You can’t drop this shit on me and then fucking leave! Come back you fuck! COME BACK!”

He kept screaming at the body pinned to the seat in front of him, tears now flowing and rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the blood sticking to his skin.

Dave begged. Mateo didn’t move.

He wailed. Mateo didn’t breathe.

He broke down. Mateo didn’t make a sound.

He called for help. But nobody came.

And Mateo didn’t come back.

---------

uuuuugh i rushed this one so much i kinda hate it. but i HAD to get this out before the last episode dropped.

@caustic-synishade @shrinkthisviolet @teosbc @thepurple-n @mother-dweller

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

My Much Better Half - Duncan x fem!reader

Hi Guys! Remember when I talked about the fact that I would write something about Xavier today?

Well here is a big old pile of Duncan Shepherd fluff.

Suggestions are more than welcome :)

Description: After feeling under the weather for a few days, you discover that you are expecting yours and Duncan’s first child. His reaction? Take you to Paris to celebrate.

Warnings: I wrote some much fluff that I might actually be ill. Also flashback smut. and then more fluff? And somehow it’s 4.6k+ words. Did I mention fluff?

Flashback sequences are in bold italic. Present day is in regular font.

You stepped in the elevator door, tugging nervously on your own fingers as you pressed the button to reach the top floor. Everyone you walked past gave you a respectful nod accompanied with a “Miss Y/L/N”. You had hoped this little visit to your boyfriend of 4 years would be a discreet one but for some reason, this time around, it looked like all eyes were on you and your legs nearly gave out under the weight of the crushing pressure.

You would usually enter the premises with your fingers intertwined in Duncan’s, his smile taking all of the attention off of the heavy title that was “Mr. Shepherd’s other half”. When it comes to exiting, the brunette would guide you straight to the underground parking where you would both jump in a car and get driven home to arrange his lunch and yours.

 Such appearances were rare and the need to leave in secrecy was nearly a must since every time your name was mentioned, a flock of paparazzi would welcome you at the entrance of the skyscraper and the anxiety and stress of being in all sorts of tabloids was not something you were looking forward to it. It was a lesson the both of you learned the hardest of way.

 A groggy Duncan woke you up as he slid out of your shared bed and you immediately informed him of your state. You had been feeling sick for a couple of days and silently prayed it was only due to undercook chicken from the take away down the road but when it carried through Monday, you noticed the clockwork pattern. Whimpering out of bed, you quickly dialled your boss, informing them you would not be able to come in today right before you spewed your bile in the porcelain bowl.

A look of concern shrouded you as Duncan swiftly came and rubbed your back, now covered in a thin coat of sweat. He had been supportive to your need to remain home and he promised he would keep his phone on loud so he would be able to quickly pick up your calls and rush home in case you needed him. “We’ll go to the doctor tomorrow if you don’t feel any better, okay, darling?”

 The ring of the elevator pulled you out of your stupor, a fresh gulf of air and busy office noise filling your ears and lungs. Any time you had to come in with your partner, you were always well dressed and your hair was neatly pulled together however you did not have the time for glamourous looks today.

You gingerly stepped out into the open plan office, stepping as confidently as possible to the large wooden door and heavily knocking on it. “Come in?” you heard from the other side. Your fingers wrapped around the metal handle of the door, pushing it open. One arm rested against the edge with the large windows of his office, the other wrapped around a glass of scotch.

 The creaking of the door twisted Duncan around, his usual relaxed expression lighting up his face once you passed the doorway, pushing the wooden panel closed behind you. Worry grew deep in your belly as you stepped towards your lover “Y/N! I wasn't expecting you!”, his lips delicately wrapped you in a tender kiss, dismissing the half full glass of whiskey to gingerly surround your cheeks, still cold for the outside.

Expecting was the only word you were hoping the brunette would avoid. “What brings you in my office, sweetheart? Is everything alright? Still feeling ill?” he perched himself on the edge of his desk, sipping on his scotch once more. “I need to talk to you about something” you bit your lip, trying to hoist yourself next to him. His dark brows drew closer in confusion and worry.

 “What's going on, honey, he asked, framing your face once more.

- We have a problem and I'm scared of your reaction...

- W-What do you mean? Are you- leaving me, he enquired, standing up and lodging himself around your thighs, his hands resting on your hips.

- Oh no! You replied. Duncan, I'm late.

- Oh, honey, It's okay, I'll call a cab for y-hang on...”

 It took a lot for you to not laugh at his naïve remark. His bright blue eyes widen in shock, his hands dropping from their perch as he gingerly stepped back. Worry grew inside your gut once more as he was withdrawing from you. “Y-You're pregnant?” he asked, trembling still. Averting your gaze from him, nodding. Gritting your teeth to keep your jaw from quivering in terror that this might be the reason why he leaves you. “I did three tests and they all came back positive”.

“And, it's- it's mine, right?” he asked again, taking a confident step forward to inch himself closer to you. “Of course, you idiot” you scoffed slightly, lifting your eyes to dive deep into the ocean blue of his own gaze. You trapped your bottom lip between your teeth, not surprised that he still had that effect on you even after he made you his so long ago. His beauty would never cease to mesmerise you and you couldn’t understand how in Heaven or Hell he ended up being yours.

“Honey, if you don’t feel ready, we can… wait…” you tried, the feeling of him slipping off of your grip still lingering in your thoughts. “So that means I'm going to be a father...?” he gasped, ignoring your remark, a timid smile crept across his face as you nodded just as sheepishly as he grinned. Duncan paced around his office, muttering some sort of plan of action on how he would break the news to his mother and mainly to the world.

He then paused his erratic prowling just as you noticed the tears staining his cheeks. He looked up at you and, not as good as you were at hiding your emotions, he burst out in a stream of tears, rushing against you to hold you tight and close in his warm embrace.

 “Have you ever been to Paris?” he asked and the next thing you knew, he was escorting you out of the large Shepherd Freedom Foundation building he had just spent the last 35 minutes blabbering about baby names and how you would decide on the education of your child and when you would start planning your next one.

It took all your efforts to bring him back down to Earth, where life was still going day by day. He excused himself as you both jumped in a cab straight to your flat.

You had approximated the night it had happened. You were both really goods with protection. You were on the pill and in dark times of needs, Duncan made a small stash of condoms. You vividly remembered a couple of weeks back, on your anniversary, when you had been busier cooking up a meal for the both of you than taking the small medicine.

 The sound of the door opening sent an excited shiver down your spine. Tonight would be special regardless of the outcome of your spinach lasagne. Tonight, you celebrated 4 long years of love and dedication to one another. Duncan's smile grew wide as his eyes met yours. You wore his favourite little black dress underneath the “kiss the cook” apron he had gifted you for your birthday a couple of months back.

A full dinner and one and a half bottle of your favourite red wine later, he was on you, ripping breathes and gasps out of your lungs. He had you exactly where he wanted you, in the largest crook of his heart and each passing day, you were gaining more and more of him.

It felt like the first time again. Your fingers trembling, the both of you heavily inebriated except that this time, you had gone through many more dates. This time, you had loved and fucked each other down to the bone.

And with a man as stressed and frustrated as Duncan, you found him pounding into you more often than not.

 This time, he took the occasion present in front of him and his fingers explored you all over again. “I’m going to make love to you so good we’ll need tomorrow off” he whispered in the shell of your ear, a slight groan mixed to the sounds of his voice. With a drunken and mischievous expression, you quickly took off, running all the way to the bedroom in a fit of tipsy giggle. His footfall were on your tail, a soft laugh escaping from his chest.

In your usual clumsy habit, you slipped against the wooden floor of the bedroom, caught on your way by the toned arms of your lover, a string of chuckles still pumping out of your chest. In a careful, but still buzzed, swoop, he lifted you on your bed and crashed a loving kiss against your plump lips. His hands trailed from the base of your ankle as your tongue fought his for dominance. Duncan’s digits grazed the fabric of your stockings all the way up to the thick elastic band concealed underneath the cotton of your dress.

“Fuck… The garter belt, my only weakness” he groaned, amused, pushing another few laughs from you as you innocently shrugged.

The naïve façade only lasted a second as you felt the sharp sting of the garter coming off and slapping your skin, pulling your lip between your teeth in a soft moan. He played with them, toying with your impatience, his kisses becoming more desperate by the second while you allowed him to peel off the stockings then freeing you from the soft pair of panties.

 He took in the view, a heavy sigh filling his chest. “You make me so happy Y/N, I hope you know that”, he planted his lips against the supple skin of your inner thigh, then again, half an inch closer to your core, and another one. You mentally counted the kisses, expecting his kiss to meet your heat but he instead repeated the painfully slow ritual of kissing his way down your thigh, this time on the other side.

“So do you, Duncan” you gently moaned as he brought his lips closer to where you needed him the most. You lost your fingers in his brown locks right before the pushed his tongue, flat, and incredibly hot, through the length of your cunt, tasting you like he had done so many times before.

 A loud drunken moan escaped your lips as he went against you again, this time pushing his stroke past your folds to caress the throbbing bundle of nerves between your thighs. A contempt sigh left him as he started to suckle on your labia, one after the other. Countless time, you reminded him to be gentle, that the slow and soft drove you up the wall, and he learned his lessons.

Practically making out with your clit, he languidly looked up at you as you twisted and arched under the pressure he was applying. A mixture of torture and absolute ecstasy. Your gaze met his as your coil started to wrap in your belly. His pace gently quickened while his hands drew incoherent shapes on the skin of your outer thighs.

As you were brought closer and closer to the edge with mix mixture of strokes, nips and suckling from Duncan, he pushed two of his fingers deep inside of you. His lips were gentle but his fingers were exempt of the rules, roughly pounding against your sweet spot and in a string of moans, the thread holding you tight released, the tension suddenly ceasing in a chain of twitches and trembles.

Shaking heavily underneath the brunette, fully surrendering to his mercy while his lips jumped up against your jaw, the pad of his fingers helping you ride out your climax. He groaned and grunted as your toes curled, your hand tightly gripping the sheet only to let them go and immediately grab at them again.

 “So god damn beautiful” he whispered, his rough brushes steadily stopping and withdrawing from you. Making quick work of your clothes, you were both rendered naked, exposed to each other once again. Still short of breath, your fingers drove down his chest, caressing every inch of his toned body. Getting lost in the darkness of the room, your delicate fingers curled around his throbbing shaft, pushing out a sigh from Duncan. “Tonight, I’m making love to you” he muttered in your ear, gingerly pushing your hand away before he lined himself up with your glistening entrance.

“Tonight, I’m worshipping you” he said again, easing himself between your supple thighs. Broken I love Yous stemmed in the middle of your pleads for touch. The harsh stubble of your brunette scratched the sensitive skin of your neck before small pecks covered your throat and shoulders. His hips brushed against yours while his hands languidly wrapped around your waist, holding you nice and close to him.

 Delicate and gentle, he thrusted inside of you, brushing your walls in a crackling of whimpers. You rarely heard these squeals coming from Duncan but whenever these sounds crawled out of his throats, you were encourage to remember you were the only one capable of making him crumble.

Pushing your fingers in his dark locks and drowning in the blue of his eyes, nothing else mattered. You just wanted him for all eternity and you prayed every day you would keep him that way. The sweat shrouding both of your figures as he languidly pumped in and out of your heat sobered the both of you. A spark of realisation burst in his eyes but you could not put your finger on it.

That look usually blooms when he realises he forgot to put a timer on the over or he left the light of the bathroom on all day. Whatever he forgot to do that night was quickly dismissed as the only thing that broke the intense gaze linking both of your minds was a deep and loving kiss. Full of passion, you both drunk the syrupy taste of your affection.

 His thrusts quickened while that bubble grew in your belly once more. Contracting the muscles in your legs first, the sensation intensified, then you clutched his back, pushing you one step closer to the edge.

Duncan became a blabbering and whimpering mess, mewling your name and profanities as he climbed his own slope of ecstasy. “I’m so in love with you Y/N” he moaned again and that was the only push you required to have you tumble down the cliff of your release. The coil snapped and your walls fluttered tightly against his hard shaft, squeezing him so hard it was nearly painful.

 His harm reached up to grab the already broken wooden headboard of your bed, his digits grappling the material and violently yanking on it, shattering a new piece that would be tossed to the floor as his large cock spilled heavily inside of you. Heavy panting and loud moaning pulling the both of you to ride your climaxes.

 The driver looked back at you in the rear view mirror, apparently waiting for you to do something. “Y/N? Are you alright, darling?” Duncan pulled you out of your day dream and gently out of the car, holding your hand securely. “I was… Thinking, sorry” you excused yourself shyly while following the brunette to your apartment. Leading you into the foyer of your flat, he closed the door behind his back, lingering there as his eyes trailed against your, watching you walk into the living room.

 “Baby, he announced as he quickly stepped in the room behind you, if you don’t feel ready or if you are worried about it, I need to know.

-I-I’m fine, Duncan, I promise. But I still need to wrap my head around it.

- I’m right here if you need, okay? I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with the decision and the change but ultimately, I will support anything you chose to do.”

 His eyes planted into yours, your let the cold blues wash over you as you gently smiled and nodded. If this were to happen with anyone else but Duncan, you would second guess the outcomes however, you were sure about the choice you were both going to make in welcoming a new life in the world.

Before you knew it, you were already buckled in a plane, flying over the large body of water separating America from Europe. You had never been to Paris before and you didn’t think you ever would due to the multitude of unexpected calls both you and your lover would be subjected to but when it came to celebrating, your partner knew how to surprise you.

And before you knew it, the bumpy landing of the plane rattled your bones awake. Fatigue was definitely one of the symptoms you were experiencing in the very early stages of your pregnancy so sleeping through the flight was no issues for your tired body working so hard to make your womb the safest place it could be.

 You didn’t realise how lit up Paris was. It wasn’t called The City of Light for nothing after all. Duncan had apparently planned it all out. He brought his mother along with the both of you, expecting to announce the beautiful news of the pregnancy to her in an over the top manner like he was used to doing even if you had the sneaking suspicion, he had something else planned during the short trip you engaged in.

The night you both came out to the public after over a year of dating behind closed doors, he had taken you on a red carpet for a gala you were the furthest from being interested in. As if parading you around and introducing you to his peers as “This is Y/N, my much better half” was not good enough to announce to the world the blossoming passion between the two of you, he had organised the most beautiful fireworks you had ever seen.

It’s on that night he knew he loved you, his eyes devouring your from head to toe and it had not escaped his mother’s watchful eyes.

 Watching him grow closer to his mother was a beautiful change you were happy to have made blossom. The three of you made your way out of the small plane, entering the privately hired car Annette had taken care of. It was like the both of them had plotted this long ago.

Exploring the small streets of Paris all the way to the hotel room you would reside in, a series of hushed speeches took place between Duncan and his mother. Unbothered by it, you gentle slipped in and out of consciousness as sleep gained the better of you. You woke up in Duncan’s arms as he gingerly carried you through the halls of the hotel to rest you on the large bed before peeling your shoes off and tucking you in.

 “She must be drained if this is the first long distance flight she experience, Annette whispered.

-That’s why I didn’t want to wake her up, the male hushed, pushing a few strands of hair away from your face before standing up and walking towards his mother. Thank you for helping me organise this, mom.

-Don’t mention it, Duncan. I just hope you’re sure about it and that you are ready.

- I am, mom. I’ve never been more sure.”

 You dozed off again, the words broken and blurry in your ears. The soft kisses of Duncan across your shoulders woke you up as the gentle sunlight warmed your intertwined bodies. He had swapped your travelling outfit for some of your comfortable pyjamas while you rested peacefully. His toned arms pushed your back closer to his chest, breathing the soft scent of your skin. You could feel his smiling lips against your lips. “Rise and shine, beautiful. We have a busy day ahead” he whispered, painfully releasing your limbs from his embrace.

Oh how you loved how close he would hold you down in the morning. The tickling of his stubble teased you awake most of the time and you would remain laced within each other for as long as you could. The love you had for each other was so pure and beautiful.

 Walking from shops to shops, Duncan showered you in attention and gifts. When his mother joined the both of you for lunch, you offered for her to join the both of you in a few shops, hoping to watch your boyfriend and his mother bond some more in this beautiful.

 “That would be lovely, Y/N, Annette smiled warmly,

-We should be on our way already if we want to visit the last couple of shops on our way. Mom booked a table for dinner, Duncan stroked your hands as he motioned to the waiter for the bill.”

 You made your way out of the small restaurant, ready for some more shopping with your boyfriend, his mother hooked to his arm. It took about an hour for him to invite you in the large stores he had in mind but there was one he planned on bringing his mother to. Walking up the busy street, the brunette pointed at the neon sign in top of the shop. “Petit Bateau”. Annette look at the façade then back at him in confusion.

“Let’s have a look and pick something, shall we?” he enquired, smiling wide at his mother. Her brows drew closer, perplexed by his question. “I think you’re past the age of wearing bibs, Duncan” she scoffed, unsure on what to think. That’s only when he looked back at you, his smile growing only wider that his question started to click in her mind. He held out his palm to you, inviting you to join his side and you sheepishly stood by him, clutching his fingers with your clammy ones.

 “What does this mean” she wondered again, taking a careful step back as the tall frame of your boyfriend gingerly pulled you closer to the store. “Y/N is expecting” he announced in a small chuckle, her eyes growing further in disbelief. “Come on” he carried on, walking you inside of the store, his mother in tow, still shocked.

Your fingers unlaced from your man’s as you went alone for your own little wonder. Looking back shortly after, your gaze fell upon the tender embrace of Annette and her son, tears spilling from both of them. A silent exchange of words then took place before the tall brunette eagerly shook his head, wiping his teary eyes. His attention turned to you and he smiled fondly at you.

 You had not bought anything today and if you were to spend anything, this store was the one. You looked at the multitude of tiny coloured socks, browsing through swaddles and onesies while your fingers absentmindedly brushed against your belly.

The comforting arms of Duncan wrapped around you as you turned around, holding what you thought was the most adorable little ensemble to proudly show it to him. “That’s lovely, sweetheart, but I’m afraid we are starting to run short on time” he hushed you. You placed the new born outfit back and settled for a soft pyjama. As you walked towards the cashier, Annette met you with a tight embrace, whispering gentle words of encouragements and congratulations before taking the small hanger from your hands.

 Besides your protest, she purchased it, seemingly beaming of happiness and pride as she looked back at her son, the same look plastered on his face as he admired you. Slowly making your way to the car in a comfortable silence, you laced your fingers with your boyfriend, exchanging mischievous looks and cheeky smiles. The destination was a total mystery to you but as you watched the Iron Lady growing taller in the horizon, you started to wonder why you had not imagined that Annette would book at table on top of the Eiffel Tower. Guiding you to the small lift and grabbing at your hands, you felt your lover grow nervous, his eyes lost in the breath taking view of Paris’ horizon.

 Puzzled by the clamminess of his hands, you brought your palm to his cheek, feeling him melt into your loving touch. His gaze fell onto you and he took a deep breath as he read through your soft features. “You are so beautiful” he said as the lift reached the peak of the tower. Keeping your digits in his grasp, he invited you to step out of the elevator, following below you. Annette was waiting by a table, looking at your entrance. She motioned towards a corner that had no tables. “Let me take a picture of you two in front of the view!” she rejoiced, holding her phone up.

Your lover’s hands held on your waist as you walked to the decorated corner. Some soft music was playing in the background and you stood in position to let his mother snap a picture with you. She gave a discreet nod to her son as he slowly turned towards you, grabbing your delicate hands and bringing your knuckles for a kiss.

 “Y/N” he began, the clamminess of his hands had returned, if not worse this time around. “You are the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. I have never loved anyone as much as I’ve loved you and I knew from the moment I saw you watching the fireworks on that night we made it official that I had fallen in love with you and the privilege of having you now carry my child is the biggest honour I could receive” tears slowly piled at the edges of your eyes in realisation. You looked at him, watching his cheeks getting stained by salty streams of his own. “But I have another favour to ask you today, darling” he spoke in a halted breath before dropping to one knee, quickly retrieving a velvet box from his back pocket. His fingers reached up to yours again, his eyes now pleading and loving. “Y/N, will you do me the honour of become my wife?” he softly asked, displaying the stunning ring sitting in the cushioned box he now had opened.

 The ring was dainty and gentle, radiant with beauty. Lost in his eyes, you quickly wondered, how in the world would you even be able to say no? Nodding vigorously as your cries got muffled against his lips in a passionate kiss, he pulled away from you shakily reaching for the ring inside the box to slip it on your finger, a happy sod ripping through his chest as he smiled even wider.

His face turned to his mother, who was covering her mouth to muffle her own tears, and he gave her the dorkiest thumbs up.

She lowered her phone, which had been recording and rushed to hug the both of you tightly, letting a small weep escape her throat. “Welcome to the Shepherd’s family, Y/N” she said, touching your cheek warmly.

 “Oh, Annette, I’ve felt like part of your family from the day Duncan took me on our first date” you chuckled, looking at the ring then back at your, now, fiancé. Leaning in to drop a gentle kiss on your forehead, he bit his lower lips to hold back his grin. He had secretly worked on this whole trip for over a year and he meant to unfold it all for your anniversary but forgot about it’s date however, that was a secret he was willing to take to the tomb.