#someone please take away my access to any sort of writing devices

[dantesmelancholicshitpost]

I was just now debating who should receive my therapy bills for the kiss scene in ep6...

Ofc there is David Tennant, full of desperation, grasping at straws. We cannot see his eyes, but we know damn well that they are watery and full of fear and awareness that this may be his last chance.

But then there is Michael Sheen whose conflicted attitude already prompted me to write a (not so) short analysis in my notes. Aziraphale whose yearning and longing for Crowley is so palpable, whose hands look for some sort of contact and embrace, whose pain we can see so clearly when he pushes Crowley away and whose entire body language is just filled with dilemmas, with antonyms, whose internal conflict is so tangible.

And then there is Neil, the mastermind. The one who is there pulling the strings. The one who made this scene a parallel of the scene from s1 where Crowley pushes Aziraphale to the wall, saying "I'm not nice", but this time he just wants him to understand, that Aziraphale is nice, more than nice, moreover that Crowley MAY BE nice, but they are just not fit for Heaven, they belong only in eachother. And the hurt after Aziraphale doesn't accept this unspoken but so clearly communicated argument...

In conclusion, they should just split it

[datesinredink]

could you possibly write headcanons you have of how the rise yanderes would like psychologically manipulate/punish their darling? i’m all for physical violence but what do they do to mess their darling up in the head?

ty very much for reading this if you do :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH RAGHHHHHH!!!!! Since this is such a fun question to answer im gonna order these from most to least awful. The ranking is just my opinion and i would LOVE to see what other people think jhwhnwiurfj i decided to chug a soda to write this and i think that was a great decision because i immediately came up with smth for donnie because of it.

I decided to search up some ACTUAL psychological torture methods that have been/are used in real life and let normal manipulation take more of a backseat so that this didn’t end up too repetitive- honestly would recommend researching it, it’s a fun topic.

Trigger warnings: Very unfun use of technology in your arm, Drugging, More drugging, Even more drugging, Withholding of food/water (+ a more mild example of doing so but it still happens), Mild descriptions of gore, Mentions of blood, general yandere stuff like kidnapping, and likely others- please ask me to tag anything else triggering, because unfortunately I am not perfect.

1- Donnie.

This might be surprising to some of you. Yes, Leo is the manipulator- he’s the face man, the people guy, but I think that in terms of sheer awfulness- Donnie is going to win here simply because of the potential with his tech.

He’s a genius with access to mystic powers who has incredible skill with both designing and creating various machines and gadgets. I think that he’d be very creative, just considering how much he thought to fit into just his bō staff.

My first thought was that he could come up with a small device (which might be able to double as a tracker) to embed under your skin that could move around. It would skitter up and down your arm like a beetle (likely your dominant arm, just to be worse) and be a nice cherry on top of anything else he could come up with.

To pair with that, he could force some type of hallucinogenic drug down your throat- after some googling, LSD would be a likely candidate. While apparently it usually only causes “pseudo-hallucinations” (where you know that they aren’t real, whereas true hallucinations would be where you think they are), true hallucinations can happen, and the pseudo-hallucinations combined with the environment alone would be enough to cause a panic attack. Not even to mention the kind of drugs that the mystic city might have. (edit: i just found out about datura??? GODDAMN THAT’S A STRONG DRUG.)

Also, I think that Donnie would actually take decent care of you prior to any sort of escape attempt or broken rule. He’d hate for you to waste away in a dark room for the rest of your now shared life, so he would take you outside to some private space for a set amount of time everyday while you’re chained to him and probably gagged so you don’t call for help- you need time in the sun and exercise, after all. That’s why I think he’d also stop doing that if you broke a rule. You don’t want to be anywhere near him, and he supposes that he’s fine with that- but if you really don’t want anything to do with Donnie anymore, then you’ll just have to deal with losing all the luxuries that came with him being so caring.

He’ll lower the temperature in your room and take the hoodie that he so graciously gave you and waltz on out. He still brings you food and water, but now it’s less frequent and more random since now he’s prioritizing his brilliant inventions. Sorry dear, but weren’t you the one who begged him to leave you alone? Now he is. What’s the problem?

2- Leo.

Even if you haven’t done anything wrong (yet), being kept in his room would probably be a nightmare. I feel in my adhd soul that he would NOT be good at keeping it clean. It’d be living in a constant mess, and as someone who has lived in a perpetually messy house, it will definitely take a toll on your mental health. Not to mention the additional noise from whatever he and his brothers are doing. You wouldn’t be allowed outside of it either, not for a while at least, so you’d never know what day or time it is.

Other than the already constant sensory of his room, I think that Leo would mainly use threats- of which he goes through with. Not against you, though, but against your family, (what’s left of) your friends, and any other loved ones you might have. He’ll drag their unconscious body into whatever room he’s keeping you in, and wait with you for them to wake up.

While you two are waiting, he’ll lay out everything he’s planning to do to them in awful detail- and lucky you, he even left out some things as a nice surprise!

You’ll be tied to a chair and forced to watch as their guts fall to the ground from the clean slice in their now empty abdomen while Leo picks up and talks about their functions one by one. You silently wish that you never told him that you admired his skills as the team medic.

When he’s finally done rambling about the various viscera laying on the cold floor, he’ll force you to help him clean up- “so that Raph doesn’t get mad about the mess”, as he says. He’ll hold you in his arms when the two of you are done, whispering in your ear about how sorry he is that he had to do that, but you really did force his hand, and you know that, right? If only you had listened…

When the list of people you can bring yourself to care about finally has 0 names, Leo starts to instead take things away from you. He starts small, gradually taking and taking like the parasite you’ve learned he is until all you have left are the clothes you wear and him. He’ll even deprive you of food and water for periods of time, and you can no longer tell if you wish he would shut up for once or if you’re grateful for at least anything to distract you from the constant pain in your empty stomach.

Mikey and Raph landed themselves towards the bottom because I think that they’re both more lenient with punishments (Raph would be afraid of hurting you beyond repair physically OR mentally and Mikey has generally been shown to be very patient and forgiving with people he cares about), but I also think that they might be more exhausting to be stuck with GENERALLY, wearing you down slowly in day-to-day life rather than harsh punishments for breaking whatever rules might be in place for you.

3- Raph.

Raph would try to instill learned helplessness into his darling, to make them understand why he always has to be so careful!

It’ll happen the next morning after a particularly bad argument between you two, and when he’s suddenly letting you handle sharp objects again- but oh no! For some reason you feel so sluggish and dizzy today that you messed up and sliced open your arm. It’s ok- Raph’s here for you! He’ll either patch up your arm himself or take you to Leo, and after it’s taken care of he’ll scold you and say that it’s fine, maybe he’ll give you another chance next week. And he keeps his word- once again, you’re allowed to try your hand at chopping some veggies with him or Mikey- and again, you feel dizzy and accidentally cut yourself.

This will happen many more times- or not, if you give in easily enough- at least until Raph finally decides that he just can’t keep doing this. He brought you to the lair to keep you away from harm, and despite it being to teach you a lesson, he just can’t bear to watch blood drip down your pretty skin.

So instead, he further seals you away- locking you in his room and wrapping one of his hoodies around your head. He’ll keep you like this until you finally learn.

He won’t starve you, at least. He’d hate to watch you waste away after everything, so you’ll be fine physically, but it’ll be hell to not be able to see or properly hear anything. It’ll also be more difficult to breathe properly through the fabric, so I wish you luck with that.

He’s infuriatingly nice throughout the whole thing. Of course he’s angry when you argue with him- when you hurl insults and and completely unfounded whining (yeah right) at him. Sometimes he hurriedly leaves the room so he doesn’t do anything he regrets- but when he comes back- despite your wishes that he wouldn’t- he just wraps that damned hoodie around your skull and chides you for your hostility, leaving you to wonder if this could really be better than death.

You feel insane rambling to his plushies, of which you now know the individual names of, but it’s an admittedly nice bit of company to have when your only other option is Raph. Honestly, you’d rather deal with Ms Cuddles by this point, and she even managed to wring a scream out of Donnie.

At least it’s something you can actually have even an ounce of fun doing that he won’t take away for being “too dangerous”. As long as you can tolerate his absolutely smitten behavior when he finds you talking to them.

Be careful about how loudly you complain, though- it might just land you being completely swaddled in blankets and left to go insane on his bed.

4-  Mikey.

I think that if you were to try and escape from Mikey, he’d conclude that his love simply needs to spend more time with him! Maybe if he shows them how wonderful life is with him, they’ll stop trying to run away!

Unfortunately, I doubt his sleep schedule is very consistent. He keeps you up late at night to try out new spraypaints, recipes, games, anything he can find to do with you will be done. You hardly get the chance to sleep well, and the peace you get in dreams is frequently interrupted.

When he does take a break, he insists on sleeping in the same bed, and it’s much harder to fall asleep with him staring holes into you, as though he were trying to memorize every single detail.

It takes a damn long time to get Mikey to knock it off, too. You have to guess that stubbornness runs in the family, if his brothers are anything to go by. Unfortunately, said brothers’ coddling of their youngest has resulted in quite the persistent guy, and you’re quickly losing the energy to refute him. You wonder how long you’ll need to sleep for the giant spider in the corner of your vision to go away.

When the box turtle finally does realize how much of a toll his shenanigans have taken on poor you, he decides that as the person responsible for you, it’s his job to make sure that you get plenty of rest- and if you refuse, Dr Delicate Touch and Dr Feelings are always here to make sure you’re convinced!

He does a sort of 180- where he once forced you to do everything, he now forces you to do nothing at all, even when your mind screams at you to get up and move. He’ll slip something he stole from the pharmacy into your food and carry your sleeping figure back to his room for your seemingly infinite nap.

In between consciousness, you’ve learned to just stay in bed, maybe draw or write something related to all the adventures you go on in dreamworld.

Fun fact, over sleeping has a couple negative side effects- it increases the risk of diabetes, obesity, headaches, back pain, depression (like you don’t have that already, being kidnapped and all), and heart disease! I wish you the best of luck.

When he finally believes your rest to be sufficient, everything will go back to normal. Except, of course, the lingering paranoia of when it’ll happen all over again will continue to haunt you.

Who knows, maybe he’ll continue drugging you just to keep you a little more complacent. Can’t have you running away all the time, right?

[ghooostbaby]

deeeep dive into why and how wei wuxian and lan wangji love each other, complete each other, are the inverse reflection of each other’s deeply hidden internal selves mirrored through the other’s external self, lan wangji’s inner wildness that he has to conceal and protect recognizing and loving wei wuxian’s outer wildness, wei wuxian’s deep, fuddy-duddy morality and values that he conceals with an elaborate subterfuge of jokes, mischief, and bravado, seeing and loving in lan wangji the ability to say no that it was never safe for him to express directly, “between you and me there is no need for thank you and sorry”

oh and a slight diversion midway through into a manifesto on WEI WUXIAN IS NOT INSECURE the whole story is about a society where being liked is ESSENTIAL for survival and it is actually completely perilous not to be liked, and his “people pleasing” is a skill and tool for his survival especially as an orphan and proven to be a necessary one when he stops doing it and STOPS SURVIVING

after the cut discussing the very interesting dynamics of consent in general in the novel, but not going into the consensual non-consent kink stuff till the last paragraph if you need to avoid for any reason.

I've been thinking about how Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian the exterior, unfettered expression of the wildness Lan WangJi holds in him and protects with rigid codes of conduct, propriety and outward dignity.

I have had this sense that these two are mirrors, either one reflecting the hidden, interior (and unallowed) self of the other. but it seemed more clear from Lan WangJi's side, especially knowing about his history with his mother and the spicy side that emerges when he drinks and in the extras.

I also - just... the way this whole story shows how romantic love is truly this longing for your self, to become yourself, to become the thing you're not allowed to be, seeing in that person the expression of whatever it is you can't become and longing for it, protecting it, joining with it as closely as you can without ever being able to let it live inside your own body.

On the surface it seems a lot more difficult for Wei WuXian to find a piece of his soul in Lan Wangji. I think its a bit too simplistic to see whatever draws Wei WuXian to Lan Wangji as a reverse-psychology sort of craving of acceptance from the only one who won't give it, pushing and pushing against this impenetrable boundary that he needs to break to feel assurance that no matter what he can make anyone accept him.

And he is SO drawn - in a mind boggling way, in the teenage flashbacks Lan WangJi rudely and aggressively throws him off over and over and Wei WuXian cannot keep away! Even when he talks about how boring Lan WangJi is, he never stops trying to be around him and talk to him.

I've seen discussions of the way Wei WuXian has always relied on the goodwill of others to survive, and that his placating of others to survive is a character flaw. Although that seems only halfway true. 

As a young child he didn't have anyone's goodwill for a while and he survived, and it seems like he can always find a way to survive from whatever means and sometimes very limited resources he has at his disposal. Doing what he has to do to become powerful enough to survive losing his core and being thrown into the burial mounds slowly costs him the goodwill of everyone around him - and what happens to him as a result shows how much placation was a truly necessary for someone without the protection of biological/hereditary family bonds.

(Don’t get me started on how his loss of his golden core and his development of demonic cultivation to give himself power by ‘unnatural methods’ through the use of a musical instrument is a metaphor for disability and the way ableist society sees the use of accessibility devices and tools. Actually please DO get my started haha.)

Wei WuXian is so charismatic and seems very used to getting what he wants and needs on the strength of that. He pushes a lot of boundaries and seems pretty confident and flexibly prepared to handle the consequences, whether beatings or harsh words. But he does work so hard to make others feel good, good with him, good with themselves.

When he is in the cave with Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian is described as "like one who forgets all past pain as soon as the wound heals". He can't resist coming up beside Lan WangJi and talking to him again and again after every time Lan WangJi pushes him off, only finally staying away when Lan WangJi bites him (and he still keeps trying to talk to him after a little bit!) and then calls him an awful person (!!! Bad Wangji! :(((( ). In the end, when Lan WangJi (very minimally) discloses what happened to his sect and his father, and even cries, because of all the defences/assaults Lan WangJi has put up Wei WuXian can't do anything or say anything to help and feels miserable.

Lan WangJi just absolutely refuses to allow Wei WuXian to take care of him - and I began to wonder maybe that’s what Wei WuXian actually really likes about him? Why he is unable to resist coming up to Lan WangJi again and again? Maybe because Lan WangJi refuses to let Wei WuXian appease him. He’s not trying to crack Lan WangJi to get to this impenetrable place of approval and acceptance. In a way he can’t quite understand, Lan WangJi is a respite for Wei WuXian from the constant work to be the one who pleases.

And  how different this is to how Wei WuXian is (or has to be) with Jiang Cheng when he wakes up in Lotus Pier after the cave. Jiang Cheng gets so down and really really needs Wei WuXian to do what he does so well (and wasn’t allowed to do with Lan WangJi) - chasing Jiang Cheng down while being injured and reassuring him about all his insecurities about his father's acceptance and becoming a sect leader and Wei WuXian's own abilities excelling his - and at first Jiang Cheng is pushing him away, but he really does need Wei WuXian to do all this to feel better.

Wei WuXian is described as not wanting to be lonely, and not wanting to see other people unhappy, and he keeps trying to push and pull with whatever he has to not be lonely and lift the mood for those around him. I don't think it's a kind of codependency or insecurity. It’s not that Wei WuXian is afraid to say no, in fact I would say he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, but he must always do it creatively, with humour. Similarly to Nie Huaisang, he uses a persona of foolishness to give himself a covert agency.

I also think I'm writing this because I don't like seeing this discussed as a sad bean character flaw for him to always need to be liked - its a strategy, its a tool, its how he survives and excels. Doesn’t the whole story prove how essential being liked is to a human’s survival? And he is so so good at being liked, in making others happy, even when he is refusing to do what others want from him that he doesn't want to do, he does it in a way that deflects criticism, with a smiling bravado that never says what it truly means and has people writing him off as shameless or foolish or just endearing himself toward them despite themselves.

He is always at work really, with jokes and flattery or mischief and teasing, to get the resources he wants and needs. Case and point, when he makes a big coquettish show for mianmian, definitely not being "people pleasing" for her, but the group of girls around them all find it funny and cute and in the end she gives him a perfume sachet which ends up being a valuable resource for later. Or the time he outright tells Jiang Cheng that if you give the girls some lotus seeds they'll remember you and return the favour in the future. (Also notice how his interactions with girls seen as flirtatious are actually strategic resource-gathering acts.) These are the skills he has developed to meet his own needs. (THIS IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW. I REPEAT.) He takes what he needs and steals from the Lotus Pier markets knowing it'll be paid for, he lives like he never know when his next windfall will come from so he'll take what he can when he can find it. Like Jiang Fengmian said, if there is no guarantee of a meal in the future then today's meal should still be enjoyed. It’s how Wei WuXian said to Nie Huaisang at Cloud Recesses, you have to find ways to make your own fun out of whatever you have. So he gets kicked out of class, goes fishing, gets alcohol, he pursues his own pleasure. He actually is quite insistent of his own agency and right to choose, he just can never directly say no.

And that little detail that Wei WuXian always tucks coins into his clothes just in case, that makes him able to buy food when he and Jiang Cheng are on the run... breaks my heart and reveals so much about the way Wei WuXian is constantly at work on ensuring his own survival and never takes for granted whether he is safe (he knows he never is). 

I've seen some people talking about Wei WuXian sacrificing so much for his brother and sister out of a need to be accepted out of a chronic sense of insecurity. But isn’t this just true? Doesn't he live in a world where being accepted is absolutely essential for survival? Doesn’t this whole story show the cruelty of a social system based on networks of hereditary/biological family that closes out and scapegoats any outsiders, and that without biological family connections that can enclose around you, you can never truly be safe if not constantly working to earn acceptance? (And then beautifully ends with the way a gay romantic relationship that queers marriage/family/etc disrupts all this and creates safety and inclusion for Wei WuXian without needing a normative family.) (AKA romantic love does not resolve some internal personal problem in Wei WuXian but disrupts and refuses and rebels against the problem of SOCIETY.) (*breathes heavily*)

And that’s why Lan WangJi is magnetizing to Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi is always saying no. Although what Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian is an exterior wildness, Wei WuXian is not really out of control so much as he is playing and caring and supplicating and showing off and pleasing people to get the resources and the acceptance he needs to live his life. He has firm values and desires that he can never outwardly state, only creatively spinning plates to distract and deflect while he refuses what goes against his values, protects who he cares for, or takes what he needs to in order to survive/thrive. Lan WangJi embodies an exterior of resoluteness and direct agency that Wei WuXian doesn't have the luxury of. And he's so drawn to him for his ability to repeatedly say no, to refuse to get along, or make others laugh, make other people happy, but just simply follow what he thinks is right.

Wei WuXian’s outward wild movement protects an inward stillness. He is an exterior of people-pleasing around an interior of refusal. He is an exterior of youthful rebellion around an interior of unflinching morality. He sees in Lan WangJi the outward expression of his stillness, his morality, his resistance that he can't express, that he's had to protect.

FYI after the cut gets more into the dynamics of consent in the story, and the last paragraph directly talks about consensual non-consent kink play in wangxian’s relationship.

When Wei WuXian is with Lan WangJi, there is no work to be done. Lan WangJi cannot be swayed by him, and so there's no point vying for resources or favors. Lan WangJi will either give him everything or refuse him everything based on who he is, it does not matter what Wei WuXian does and he can't do anything that will change Lan WangJi’s mind. Someone he literally can't win over. After the resurrection, they are often in an adorable tug of war, where Wei WuXian tries to take care of Lan WangJi, while Lan WangJi won't allow him to but demands to care of Wei WuXian right back. Actually, Lan WangJi insists that Wei WuXian take everything he wants or needs from him and is even angry when he doesn't take or when Wei WuXian tries to offer a gesture in return, even something as simple as a thank you Lan WangJi won't accept. It’s kind of adorable how frustrated Wei WuXian is in doing this thing he's learned that he needs to do, and just... so confused by Lan WangJi, and has to find a way to please this person who aggressively refuses to be pleased and is ONLY pleased by Wei WuXian being pleased.

(Not to mention the way Wei WuXian delights in finding that Lan WangJi can’t say what he wants, and they have sort of these chaotic cohesive both-being-so-pleased-by-working-hard-to-please each-other moments where Wei WuXian is letting Lan WangJi please him by finding out what pleases Lan WangJi and giving it to him.)

The wildness Lan WangJi had always hidden within himself is something he sees as just as dangerous as Wei WuXian thinks of his desire to refuse. He saw his mother be socially alienated, shunned, and eventually die because of her wildness. His ability to survive in the world, aka to be accepted by his family, is contingent on him being able to control this inner wildness. From a young age (re: Phoenix Mountain kiss) he could only understand his sexual desires for Wei WuXian as something repulsive or dangerous that had to be repressed and controlled, and that the only way he could imagine his desires as possible was as non-consensual. His secret gay desires were never available to him as anything but something monstrous.

Importantly, it’s not like everyone else other than Lan WangJi are all vampires cruelly demanding Wei WuXian’s constant sacrifice. Wei WuXian is always vibrantly, charismatically offering so much, before anyone has asked. It’s Wei WuXian who creates this kind of relationship for himself again and again. It’s Lan WangJi who simply refuses - he refuses to charmed, to be cared for. And so in the end Lan WangJi becomes the one person who Wei WuXian feels doesn't need anything from him. When he says he's eating the corpse's fruit to save Lan WangJi money and Lan WangJi says that will never be necessary. Or when Wei WuXian asks what toy he should win for Lan WangJi at the market game, and Lan WangJi says anything Wei WuXian gets will be the one he wants. (XD stahhhhp it’s too sweet !!!) He really just wants Wei WuXian to be, to exist, to spend his life discovering his own desires and allow Lan WangJi to help satisfy them, he doesn't want anything from Wei WuXian other than him living - happy and safe.

It takes someone like Lan WangJi to refuse Wei WuXian’s aggressive generosity, it’s definitely not an easy thing to say no to Wei WuXian, dazzling or annoying people so chaotically before they even realize there’s something to say no to. The sacrifice he gives to Jiang Cheng, he never even offers a choice - and perhaps it would have been too much for Jiang Cheng to accept if he had the chance.

Lan WangJi’s statement "Between us there is no need for thank you and sorry" seems like one of the most important sentences in the novel, and you can’t help but noticed the way “sorry” and “thank you” is littered meaningfully through the book. What is owed, what the characters owe to each other, the give and take, touches every part of the story (down to wangxian's erotic explorations!).

When Jiang Cheng talks to Wei WuXian at the Guanyin temple he makes a lot of contradictory statements about what Wei WuXian owes, what he was given, what he took, what he (Wei WuXian still) is owed in return. Wei WuXian, according to Jiang Cheng, took everything from the Jiang clan, and paid them back with their deaths. The Jiang clan give him his life when they took him in, and he owed Jiang Cheng service for the rest of his life as the right hand to the sect leader, that’s what Wei WuXian had promised anyway. At the same time, Wei WuXian sacrificed everything (his golden core) to Jiang Cheng, by giving everything he was taking one more thing - Jiang Cheng’s right to even be angry at him. Jiang Cheng had taken everything from Wei WuXian. Everything that happened around Wei WuXian after could be said to be because of the loss of his golden core, which Jiang Cheng might be said to be responsible for. But he never asked for it, maybe he never would have wanted it. He wishes Wei WuXian told him, but Jiang Cheng never told Wei WuXian his golden core was melted while he was sacrificing himself to save Wei WuXian. He wants Wei wuxian to say sorry, but that makes him feel pathetic. And Jiang Cheng says sorry too. It’s a mess of paradoxes, and in the end somehow it seems like the scales are balanced in the most hollow, dismal way.

What is owed, what is given, what is taken ... Wei WuXian has never been part of a family. He has always had to say thank you and sorry for everything he's taken. Wei WuXian himself admits that he used "thank you" as a way to enforce distance between himself and Lan WangJi. Lan WangJi's point i think is that they belong to each other, Wei WuXian is his, and he is Wei WuXian's, unconditionally. The way that Jiang Cheng speaks of him in the Guanyin temple (admittedly I read a fan translation and this is very nuanced, related to slight variations of grammar), even when Jiang Cheng clearly is so broken by the loss of Wei WuXian from his life, he talks about Wei WuXian as an outsider. It is what MY family gave to YOU, never what you took from our family. But at one point Wei WuXian was part of their family - but he takes too much, and becomes an ex-disciple, not a brother. Wei WuXian’s inclusion as a Jiang was always conditional. 

Even when Wen Qing and Wen Ning leave him to go take the blame for qiongqing path they tell him "thank you and sorry", drawing a line between them and him, so he doesn’t even belong to these people who he sacrificed everything for. The way Wei WuXian acted when he was younger, he was always keenly aware of this - he always knew that he didn’t belong to anyone, no one is going to protect him unconditionally. And after first escaping the Burial Mounds, he is done pretending. When Lan WangJi warns him about what a demonic cultivation path will do to his heart, Wei WuXian replies: “After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?” He is done pleasing. Nothing has changed really, he still belongs to no one and is alone, but now he is angry about it, and instead of saying thank you and sorry he is going to become too powerful to be at anyone's mercy. And then we see in the story afterward what happens to people who don't say thank you and sorry.

The whole point I think is the impossibility of choice, the impossibility of consent in this society. If he didn't forgo the behaviour his social acceptance was conditional on, he wouldn't have survived the burial mounds. But once he becomes powerful enough to survive and get revenge on the Wens, he is socially outcast. Except he was already outcast from the beginning.

And so how do Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi find a way through all that to a life together where all their desires are possible, where Wei WuXian can say no while also being pleasing (safe) to others, and Lan WangJi can indulge in his wild desires while still being good? The answer is kinky sex!

It is kind of miraculous and beautiful how Wei WuXian finds a way to say no, while simultaneously pleasing Lan WangJi, giving pleasure, while taking it, saying no, and knowing his refusal is not just tolerated, but gives Lan WangJi pleasure, knowing Lan wangji and knowing the painful belief Lan WangJi holds within that his desires are unacceptable and unspeakable, and that Wei WuXian can take care of Lan Wangji in a secret little way and please him and give everything to him by craving this wildness in Lan WangJi while at the same time he gets to say no again and again , and it won't push Lan WangJi away, he can refuse everything while at the same time be totally pleasing and thus safe, and also for Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian's pleasure at saying "no" while still being held onto, that he genuinely wants to be fucked even while begging Lan WangJi to stop (and the many ways he does give his consent for this throughout, especially their first time), allows Lan WangJi the ecstatic feeling that this idea that his sexual desires are only possible through force are not just something his lover forgives him for but something his lover is SO turned on by, and that he has consent for his fantasies of non-consent, Wei WuXian has the same fantasies from the other side, he is doing what he is supposed to while doing what he shouldn't, and actually these monstrous feelings in him allow him to take care of Wei WuXian in a way that he needs - that they both need - and all these impulses that are so wrong with Wei WuXian become very right and a way to do good. And they are just both so perfect and perfect for each other and I love them and I am so happy for them to have a long kinky life together.

[miekasa]

any spare levi headcanons tonight????? 😁😁😁😁

Sure, why not, he is the love of my life after all. These are pretty random, and fit in some sort of generalized modern boyfriend au. Hopelessly domestic, as that is the nature of nearly everything I write for Levi, anyway. Also still terribly obsessed with the idea of him with a motorcycle, so there’s that.

He owns at least six black blazers. They’re nearly identical; slight differences in texture and cut, one with lapels, one that’s boldly all leather that you swear you’ve never seen him wear. They’re kind of his go-to staple, other than a sweater.

That being said, he doesn’t exclusively wear all black. His closet leans towards more neutrals, sure, but he’s not allergic to color. You might not catch him wearing neon orange on the average day, but he’s not averse to a nice shade of green, any shade of purple that suits his mood, even a softer pink.

He has towels and rags he sets aside especially for you when he comes over. He always washes them and put them back in place when you leave so that they’re ready to go for next time.

Claims to not have any attachment to the shows/dramas you watch, but he’s totally backseat watching. Halfway into every single series, he starts sitting down when you turn it on, and scoffs at dumb decisions the characters make.

He splurged on one of those frame TVs that look like a painting when they’re idle. It was a good investment in his opinion.

He doesn’t hate Starbucks drinks—there’s worse things out there in terms of quality of tea. What he despises about the establishment is the way they call out names for you to pick up your order. He’s learned that mobile order ahead is the way to go.

Has slippers for around the house, so consequently, you have slippers for walking around his house. He keeps both pairs (and a few extra for friends and guests) tucked neatly beside the door for easy access; yours always go next to his.

Does not understand the purpose of a robe. Buy him one tho and he will suddenly find an excuse to wear it: making breakfast, lounging around watching TV, doing some light cleaning and dusting. It’s comfy, alright, he can admit that much.

The little puppy you got him that he swore he was not going to warm up to now gets the royal treatment. The best doggie goods and treats, top rated shampoos, cutest drying towels, even a miniature couch he constructed just for the pup. They’re best friends, there’s no breaking that bond now.

Speaking of the puppy, affectionately named Captain, Levi can be found walking him every day shortly after work. They have a few different routes, but they always pass by the local vendors/market, who enthusiastically anticipate their appearance every day. Some of the older ladies running stands have even taken to bringing a few treats with them for Captain—after bundling up some goods for Levi, too, of course.

Captain also has a special doggy backpack Levi uses for when he’s on his motorcycle. If you follow anybody on TikTok in his area, you’re bound to see at least one video of the pup while Levi’s out riding. He’s become viral on social media without even knowing it.

(When you show him a video someone posted of him and Captain with well over 100k likes, and a million views, he only rolled his eyes. But remembers that particularly day; remembers the folks had a kid who politely asked to pet the dog, so he let him. He also maybe asks you to send the link to him).

On the subject of the motorcycle, there was a good few weeks he wouldn’t let you on it. Always found an excuse, a smart reply that was punctuated with gentle push on your forehead and calling you too clumsy for it. Later, you found out it’s because he’d ordered you a helmet; didn’t want to risk you riding without one.

He always keeps it in the storage compartment should he make a stop to pick you up while he’s riding; and he usually wears at least two layers to have a spare to wrap you in before you get on.

When he cooks, he always makes sure there’s enough for leftovers and/or to give you some later. He also bakes frequently, and at least once a week, he stops by with some kind of treat for you—“Trying out a new recipe, let me know if you think it’s missing anything.”

On the subject of food, he won’t police what you eat to annoying extent; he knows that not everybody has the time or will to make pasta from scratch like he does. But, he will smack your wrist if you consider ordering fast food when you’re over at this place. Give him 30 minutes and a single pan, he’ll make something much better than whatever you can find on Uber Eats.

Really, though, he doesn’t mean to obnoxious about the homemade food thing, it’s more habit for him. Growing up, he had to learn to be resourceful, so buying fast-food isn’t ever at the forefront of his mind. Cooking for you also turns out to be something somewhat intimate that he enjoys, so just let him.

Once bought an Apple Watch because he liked the look of them, it wasn’t insanely expensive like other high end watches, and it could connect to his other devices, so why not? A week later he returned it, the ping of his notifications were in one too many places for his liking.

You tried to convince him to keep it—“At least for when you’re jogging! It can track your activity and calories!”—but he clicks his teeth. He’ll survive without keeping track of them.

He learned the hard way that jogging with Captain is no good. His legs are too tiny and Levi ended up carrying the puppy the entire time. Captain is more of a walk dog… or ride on the back of his bike dog.

If you changed anything in his phone settings—like the ringtone for you contact, or the sound his keyboard makes—he wouldn’t go back in and try to figure out how to reset it. Unless it was something obnoxious, like adding an autocorrect shortcut to say something lewd.

He doesn’t really listen to music when he’s just walking. When he’s on a run, that’s fine, but he somewhat prefers to just… hear the environment around him when he’s on a stroll or a break from work. The only reason he’d have headphones on in public is to take a phone call, but even then, he’d prefer to wait until he’s somewhere more private.

He likes having you over at his apartment and has contemplated asking you to move in. He doesn’t want to rush anything, though, so he’s content with your sleepovers for now. (Though he really cannot fathom that you call them “sleepovers” like you’re 14. Please).

He speaks to his mother at least once a week, and she always asks about you. Levi tells her that you’re fine, gives her small updates about you, but Kuchel really just wants to know when the wedding is. He pretends to be busy whenever she starts asking and conveniently ends the call.

Occasionally, he’ll stop by and take you out for lunch. Depends on how much time he has during the day for himself, but he always enjoys sharing a meal with you.

Whenever you’re out with your friends drinking, Levi will pick you up. Even if you already told him that you’d Uber home; as soon as you text him that you’re going to leave soon, he’s already on his way.

He makes pretty good cocktails himself. Teases you for running his alcohol supply dry when the truth is he has more of your favorites in his cabinet than his own. He secretly likes the way you flirt with him when you’re tipsy.

You don’t always cuddle on top of each other when you sleep together. You can just lay by each other and that’s enough; but sometimes, you catch Levi turning towards you in his sleep, reaching for your hand. His body seems to search for yours subconsciously, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile on his sleeping face when you put your hand within reach.

Do not try to pay for dinner when you’re out with him. He’ll pull the “I’m going to use the restroom” move and pay the bill behind your back if he needs to. Open your own doors, maybe; pull out your own chairs, sure if you want; but not this.

He flosses very diligently every night. Mostly because he fucking hates the dentist, so if he takes the extra steps and is extra careful with his teeth, he doesn’t have to go as often, right?—Wrong, it’s the one time the roles are reversed, and you and Hange have to wrestle him into the doctor’s office.

On the flip side, if there are any doctors you routinely avoid and/or forget to schedule check ups for, fear not, because Levi will do it for you. He’ll drive you there, too—the only caveat being, that he usually doesn’t tell you where you’re going until you’re almost there. You think he’s doing the mysterious man surprise date thing and then boom, he’s pulling up to the ophthalmologist. Good luck.

He’s purchased a physical, paper copy of the news on every one of your anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions. He keeps them all neatly tucked away in a drawer. Sometimes, he looks back on them—sees what was happening in the world around you on that day. Maybe someday he’ll cut them up and bind them together in a book for you.

He doesn’t like having headphones in when you’re home with him, and preferred if you didn’t either—unless it was for work or school. He welcomes you to use his speakers and play your music aloud; he likes listening to what you listen to. If you look closely, you can catch him humming along or tapping his foot when he really likes a song.

Saves pictures you send him in an album in his camera roll. Occasionally can be found scrolling through them—particularly if you’ve been away on a trip, or he hasn’t gotten the chance to see you because of conflicting schedules.

He takes relatively short showers and doesn’t have a strong preference for the water temperature, so he lets you shower first. Unless you want him to join you, of course.

It’s not hard to tell when Levi wants you. He becomes noticeably more touchy, even if that margin isn’t too wide by anyone else’s standards; and he rarely tries to hide it. It only happens in the privacy of your apartments; but he’ll come on to you—leaning a bit further into conversations, a hand on your knee, a kind of cloudy look in his eyes.

Sometimes he forgoes the attempts at being subtle, just kisses you out the blue, carefully backs you up against the wall, puts his hands on your hips. He can be awfully direct when given the opportunity.

[eatyourchancletas]

SUMMARY |  y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | we’re back! sorry for the long break, hopefully we can get into the flow of things! monnie’s already started chapter 5 off amazingly too :p written by both of us this time (mainly edited by monnie)! please leave feedback, like, reblog, whatever you can to let us know whether you enjoyed it or not!  (re-edited because dongwoo and changsik were switched up)

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe​  if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

y/n was usually called outstanding, hard-working, smart. but in reality, he was an idiot when he was outside the workforce. 

being a workaholic meant showing your skills, growing them, improving them, and practicing them constantly. sometimes it seemed to be all he knew— it’s what all the people around him saw. 

yet again, outside of it he’s quite a gullible man; which brings him to his current situation… 

“looking for something?” 

he looked away from the bandages he was previously examining to come face to face with a man that looked around his age. “not really, just restocking my clinic. or—trying to find things to restock it with.” the man nods, glancing around suspiciously, although y/n didn’t didn’t seem to take notice of this particular action. 

“this pharmacy is pretty small, but it has lots of good supplies… lots of hidden gems. want me to show you where i get my tools?”

“oh,” y/n blinked in surprise, “you’re in the medical field?”

the man made eye contact with him, managing a convincing smile. “yeah, there’s a clinic down the road from here, about fifteen minutes by foot, this is the nearest pharmacy, so we stock up from here most of the time. i work there as an assistant.”

y/n nodded, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “wow, then please! show me what you suggest.”

at the approval, the man nodded, “name’s changsik, by the way. what do you work as? i’m assuming you’re also in the medical field.”

they walked along the aisle of the cough syrups, ointments, and the few other medicines to turn and make their way to the exit door. y/n furrowed his brows, about to ask why they were exiting until changsik made another turn, walking towards the staff room. 

“your assumption is correct, i’m a surgeon…” he replied belatedly, trailing off as he stepped foot inside the room. his eyes trailed on the shelves full of unopened boxes, more prescription pills, and—bingo! the supplies he’d written down on his list. 

for a split second, the memory of san handing it to him flashes across his mind, blinking it away as he turned to changsik. “wait, how are you able to access this?”

“i’m a regular.” he glanced across at him, looking past the window. “and also the perks of having a pharmaceutical license,” a hefty laugh left his mouth, “took some convincing though.” 

“huh,” y/n squatted down, inspecting a box that was on the floor, “i guess that makes sense.”

“just put what you need in a box and take it out. i’ll just say you’re helping me take it back.” changsik smiled, watching y/n nod and do so.

after a few minutes, y/n finished and announced he was ready to check out. changsik’s eyes met one of the cctv cameras before settling on y/n. 

“alright, let’s go check out.” 

as they walked toward the front, they reached the hallway that led to the exit. just as y/n was going to walk past, toward the checkout counter, a hand forcefully grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. he looked behind him, in a startled manner, thinking changsik had just forgotten something. however, a deeper fear struck when changsik’s hand moved to clench at the back of his collar. 

“don’t make a sound.”

the second the cold blade touched the skin of y/n’s neck, the surgeon knew to stay quiet. there was a burning in his throat as he struggled to swallow, scared to trigger any abrupt movement. his frantic mind jumbled about, words of scolding placed toward himself and the situation while trying to get a grip. he thought of using the in-ear to alert jongho, but it would risk exposure of the communication device: in any case… he’d be dead by then.

“what is taking him so long?” jongho grunted, tapping his foot in impatience. it’d already been about 10 minutes since y/n entered the store—it shouldn’t take that long for a surgieron to find equipment that’s of medicinal standard!

tapping his in-ear and calling out the doctor’s name, he got no response. placing his face mask on, he rushed into the store, beckoning the cashier. “have you seen a man, about 6’3” with h/c hair?”

the cashier stared at him with a shocked look, “yes, but he went back toward the restrooms. is he dangerous?”

jongho shook his head before running toward the back of the store. he shoved against the restroom door, shouting out the older’s name as he threw open each stall door. finally admitting the fact that the older had disappeared, he tapped his in-ear once more, calling out for anyone.

“jongho, what’s going on?” hongjoong had intercepted the connection, hearing jongho’s worried voice.

the bodyguard had no time to register the primal fear that would settle itself in his bones once faced with the leader, “it’s y/n, hyung. he ran away.” 

jongho returned to the headquarters after scoping out the area once more and had just entered through the front door when he was met with the sight of the whole group. 

hongjoong was staring at him with his jaw clenched and an almost empty whiskey glass settled in his lax hand. jongho had never seen a look so severe in hongjoong’s eyes—he’d never messed up this bad. and apparently, the leader wasn’t the only one emotionally affected by his mistake, because before hongjoong could even physically express his own anger, san had snatched the glass from his hand and launched it at jongho, missing his head by less than an inch.

everyone was shocked at his silent outburst, san even going as far to ignore the immense pain in his abdomen and on his shoulder, but hongjoong simply sent the younger a look, causing him to cower back in the slightest. jongho, however, was enraged at what had just happened. what gave san, who had no superiority over him, the right to do that?

“what the fuck was that?” he had stormed over to the boy, grabbing his shirt with both fists. san didn’t back down, sticking his jaw out toward the youngest.

“how could you lose y/n?”

“i was told no matter what to avoid cameras, so i stayed outside! i didn’t exactly think the fucker would have the balls to run away!” 

everyone watched the two, eyeing when to step in and pull them apart. but hongjoong let them run their mouths. the longer someone talks, the more something is revealed. what he was looking to be revealed, he didn’t know; but something would come up.

san pushed back against jongho, “y/n hyung wouldn’t run away. he’d never do that!” 

‘oh,’ hongjoong perked in interest.

the younger scoffed, “what makes you so sure?”

san’s next words came as a bit of a shock, leaving the others with silent questions, “he promised he’d come back.”

bingo!

an awkward silence filled the room as they all stared, speechless at how hopelessly fond their brother had become for their hostage. as much as some of them hated to admit it, y/n was only a hostage to them at the end of the day. and for san to fall into a reversal stockholm syndrome of sorts was nothing short of  a disappointment. however, that couldn’t be the main focus, y/n was missing and they didn’t know how strong his resolve would be in the event of torturing.

“run us back on what happened, will you?” hongjoong told jongho, trying to get a clear picture on what went down because the first thing they needed to know was why y/n was taken, much less, who took him. was it by the same person who’d been running their mouths in the streets? 

and right in the middle of his explanation, an alarm went off on yeosang’s phone; it was a message. the others kept talking, figuring yeosang could handle whatever message he’d received. 

it was when he promptly stood up that all attention had been placed on him. 

“it’s him! it’s dongwoo!”

a soft whimper sounded as y/n was thrown to the ground, hands bound and eyes blinded by some piece of cloth.

“boss,” y/n’s kidnapper spoke in a submissive wave, causing y/n to assume the guy had straightened his spine and was saluting him in some way.

a moment later, a gruff voice broke through the eerie silence in the room, “and who is this?” his voice wasn’t angered or bewildered at all, and that’s what scared y/n. he sounded intrigued; like even he wasn’t expecting to be a part of this situation.

“someone with connections to ateez— saw that bodyguard walking around with him.” 

the other man hummed, “the bodyguard didn’t follow you, did he?”

“no, no. i found them by the pharmacy; i know the area pretty well because i do the runs for sowon— i knew the camera blindspots!” his abductor seemed to be a bit on the simpler side when it came to this “boss” of his, y/n concluded. this was a completely different personality than when he was being abducted at the scene…

“good job. and you know what, changsik-ah,” his voice seemed to be getting more intrigued, y/n’s heart beating even faster in response, “since you bought in such a valuable hostage, i’ll let you have the honors of obtaining information from him.”

y/n felt the air beside him shift, changsik bowing a full 90 degrees at his boss’s blessing, “thank you!”

a sickeningly hearty laugh resonated and the creaking of a chair sounded before the boss’s next words seemed to be the final straw for y/n’s pounding heart.

“i want him alive.” 

“he better be alive,” san growled at jongho.

“we might get to him alive if you two would quit bickering. we’re wasting time because of you two, so shut it and sit down!” hongjoong had had enough of the two. he knew it was a sensitive time for san and jongho, different reasons for both, of course, but they would only get nowhere if they weren’t level-headed.

the two boys bowed their heads at their leader, san still sending a side-eyed glare at the younger before sitting down in his chair. 

it’d been two days since y/n was kidnapped and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to get y/n back. 

wooyoung tried to trace where the text message came from within the first minute it was received, but surprise, surprise! it was a burner phone— so back to square one; checking all of the cctv footage in the area and trying to spot a suspect that wasn’t even visible from the first frame. 

the cameras in the pharmacy showed only y/n, the pharmacist, clerk, and four other customers. of those four, only one person never entered through the front door. and within those 48 hours, he’d managed to single out a vehicle that had arrived in the frame of one of the street cams showing the alleyway behind the pharmacy, and left the same way not even 5 minutes later. it was a suspicious vehicle too; white van, no windows in the back, and paper license plates. the paper plates hinted that they were most likely changed recently or are changed frequently.

and so after hours of having to witness his best friend be so uncharacteristically frantic and down, wooyoung, unfortunately, decided to do what he thought was smartest—save y/n himself to make his best friend happy again.

his intentions may have been well, but in stories like these, doesn’t something always go wrong?

“help me set the table guys,” seonghwa cleared his throat, hand on his hip as he stirred the soup on the stove. the steam from the boiling liquid sent another cloud to his tired face, a sheen of sweat and condensation forming.

“i really don’t understand why we are acting like we have the time to set a table and eat home cooked meals when we don’t!” san exasperated, pacing around the dining room. 

mingi gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back before going to help seonghwa. 

while mingi was more on the understanding side of san’s worries, jongho disagreed, “how exactly do you expect us to find him if we don’t take care of ourselves?”

“all i’m saying is food and sleep shouldn’t be this consistently on your minds when we’re all in this situation!”

jongho scoffed, finding the utmost absurdities in san’s words, “why are you acting like he’s so important? he doesn’t know anything about us or our weaknesses— for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we can’t just get another doc—”

a fist had flown toward jongho’s cheek, cutting off his words, before san’s thrashing body was being pulled back by mingi and yeosang.

“go to hell choi jongho!” san screamed, trying to force his way through the barrier the two had made with their bodies. the boy could feel his stitches tearing as he fought, but he didn’t care. jongho had been a bitch since the very first moment y/n was around, and for what reason?

“cut it out, san!” yeosang hollered, voice brute as he pushed against the boy.

“no, let me at him. he wants to keep being a little shit, i’ll show him shitty!”

“stop it! you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

san didn’t stop trying to break the barrier, focusing on getting to jongho and the other’s words, “notice what?”

“wooyoung’s missing,” yeosang began, san whipping his head toward him and trying to disagree, but yeosang was having none of it, “and you haven’t done anything but antagonize everyone here for not doing their jobs at your pace!”

“oh, excuse me for trying to be as quick as possible in finding him!”

“yeah, and who ever said quick was the efficient route to go? we’re dealing with people we know nothing about, but they seem to know a little too much about us, no? so stop getting on everyone’s asses and—”

“shut the hell up! please!” seonghwa had slammed his hands down on the table, screaming at the top of his lungs. every person in the room had immediately gone silent, words left on the tips of their tongues in a desperate attempt to fly about.

“you’re all going to shut it, sit down, and eat this meal like the civilized people we are and come up with a plan to get y/n back as safely as possible,” he gave a quick glare at everyone, blowing a puff of air at the lock of hair that had settled over his eyelids.

“am i clear?”

"yes, sir."

[ikeromantic]

Fake It Til You Make It

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Adrift

Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.

“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”

The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”

Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.

The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.

“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.

“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”

The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.

Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!

The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.

And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.

***

Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.

His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”

Mitsuhide nodded.

“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”

He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”

She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”

“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.

And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.

Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.

“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”

“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”

His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”

Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”

Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”

Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”

“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”

“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.

“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.

The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.

“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”

The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.

The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.

Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.

In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.

Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.

Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.

He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.

Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.

She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”

“Where to, my love?”

“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.

They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.

“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”

Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.

After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.

“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”

Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.

Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”

“Please, continue.”

“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.

Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”

She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”

He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”

“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.

Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.

Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.

He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”

“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.

���And that?”

“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.

The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .

“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”

“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.

He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.

The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.

Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.

His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.

He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.

“I love you too.”

She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.

Next: Kitsune's Day Out

[jamespotterthefirst]

Heartbreak

Open Heart, Book 1, Chapter 10 (Part 2)

Retold through social media posts and messages

All posts here

Posted Saturday 

10:53 PM

23 minutes before 

______________________________

Received Saturday

10:56 PM

20 minutes before

______________________________ 

Posted Saturday

10:57 PM

19 minutes before

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

10:59 PM

17 minutes before

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:15 PM

1 minute before

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:18 PM

2 minutes after

from: Sienna Trinh

to: Lilac Allende

Transcript of voicemail:

Hey you! Sorry I called you late! I was baking my world famous German chocolate brownies and lost track of time. You know how I get. You weren't answering so I'm guessing you fell asleep. I'll talk to you later, okay? I can't wait to hear all about this trip! 

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:31 PM

15 minutes after

Hi Carrie, 

Are you ready to murder me yet? Given my lack of response in the last few days and the frequency of your emails, I would imagine you are. 

I'm alive. 

And in Miami, seeking inspiration in the turquoise sea and in the overpriced bottles of red wine this hotel insists on passing off as top shelf. Probably not something I should be admitting to my agent but here we are. 

The manuscript is going well. Actually, I should say the manuscript was going well… Until I decided to scrap it and steer it in a completely different direction. Before you stop reading here to pass out or call me twenty five times, please hear me out. 

Untitled_Mystery_Doc will still be a mystery at its core, except now the two leads will surrender to a forbidden romance. Detective Prescott must fall fiercely and hopelessly in love with Selene Obispo. It was something the writing was demanding of me all along, but I lacked the inspiration to bring their tension to fruition. That changed thanks to the Celestial's lavish oceanside balcony view. 

Earlier tonight, I was leaning over the railing of my balcony, glass of that aforementioned wine in my hand, watching the last remains of a reception of some sort in the distance. A delighted, lilting laugh from a nearby balcony broke my concentration. It was from a young woman who looked to be no older than you are. Even from a distance, I could tell she was a vivacious creature, radiating the type of effortless beauty that would have even the strongest of beings hanging by her every word. In an inky blue dress, she looked so captivating, it was no wonder the man at her side could hardly keep his eyes away from her. 

This man, Carrie. 

He was, without a doubt, the handsomest specimen I have ever seen. A true Romantic hero come to life from the pages of every classic novel in the catalog. Tall with piercing eyes and a jaw so sharp, it could slice through even the strongest of convictions. He possessed the type of good looks that were striking, like the powerful fissure of lighting. 

The pair seemed to alternate between conversation and companionable silence as they enjoyed a drink. Every so often, when he was certain she wasn't looking, he would glance at her almost desperately, as though rushing to take in as much of her before the precious seconds ran out. He was not aware that in those moments when he contemplated the vast ocean before them, she would do the same. 

After another lull in their conversation, the young woman looked at her phone, a pensive crease on her brow as she searched for something. Seconds later, the notes of a song began to drift from the speaker of her device. The man scoffed, inspiring more cheerful laughter from her. Despite his annoyed front, his expression softened as he watched her. 

More silence and then they started what sounded like a solemn conversation. As they spoke, he looked conflicted, his fingers gripping his glass as though reason and restrain were slowly ebbing away. 

Fragments of what they were saying reached me.

“…higher I aspire, the more I stand to lose.”

“I...certainly understand that.”

He stood then, with the conviction of someone seeking to run away from the ineluctable. 

When he stopped at the railing of their balcony, however, he turned to her, shoulders deflating as though realizing he didn't want to run anymore. Finding her there at his side was confirmation that she was an inevitability, a constant in his existence like his binary star. 

It was confirmation that she was done running too. 

He was saying something then, the words coming out in a desperate rush. She didn't seem to mind though, patiently listening and offering reassurance. 

“... Your risk paid off.”

Those words seemed to be the denouement of their time together because his gaze took her in with undeniable clarity. 

“It did...and I’m beginning to realize…” 

The way he looked at her then, with over-spilling yearning, would have inspired poets throughout the ages. Even if I had a hundred years to write, I could never capture the utterly lovelorn way in which he regarded her.  

“There are some things that are worth any risk.”

And then he kissed her. Their bodies gravitated closer to one another, reveling in the novelty of having her in his arms at long last. And even though this kiss erupted with the euphoric urgency of the first time, there was familiarity in the way he caressed her, in the way she stroked his jaw. As though they had spent long, agonizing moments before this memorizing one another. 

All of this was painted clearly before me in the seconds before I stepped away. 

I could not justify stealing any more of this moment from them. Particularly when the desperation in their movements acknowledged the race against the clock. They both knew that this stolen moment would eventually conclude. 

I am inspired, Carrie. 

Even from afar, I could tell these two yearned for each other. Their kiss was the inevitable culmination of forbidden longing, beautiful yet heartbreaking all at once. 

It's exactly what was missing from my manuscript. 

Let me know your thoughts. 

How's Gigi? Did you like the groomer I recommend? 

Sincerely, 

Andrea  

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:32 PM

16 minutes after

To Whom It May Concern;

My name is Lisa Burkett in room 4087. This evening, my husband and I witnessed a couple in a nearby room making out. They were extremely loud and explicit. The woman even climbed on top of the man at some point. 

This is appalling since we're here with our children. Luckily they didn't see this happening. 

Please put me in contact with a manager. This is unacceptable for a resort that advertises being family friendly. 

Attached you will a picture of the incident. That's how exposed and close to us they were. 

Sincerely,

Lisa Burkett

Attachment: 

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:39 PM

23 minutes after

______________________________ 

Sent Saturday

11:41 PM

25 minutes after

______________________________ 

Searched for on Saturday

Googled by Ethan Ramsey

11:56 PM

40 minutes after

______________________________ 

Searched for on Sunday

Googled by Lilac Allende

12:03 AM

47 minutes after

______________________________ 

Searched for on Sunday

Googled by Lilac Allende

12:06 AM

50 minutes after

______________________________ 

Listened to on Sunday

Audible library accessed by Ethan Ramsey

12:46 AM

______________________________ 

Searched on Sunday

Googled by Ethan Ramsey

1:03 AM

From “Student Doctor Network” accessed at 1:11 am

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

Sibling group chat titled “Y’all look familiar”

Members: Laurel Allende, Lilac Allende, Jaime Allende

1:36 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

from: Naveen Banerji

to: Ethan Ramsey

1:59 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

2:17 AM

______________________________ 

2:46 AM 

The Celestial Incident Report 

Camera footage transcript 

Hall 4000

Written by: Anthony Romero

Re: Guest Complaint 

Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, exits his suite, careful to shut the door as noiselessly as possible. 

This man has seen better days. 

His hair is disheveled and stubble mars the jawline that wreaked havoc among The Celestial's guests and staff alike. The doctor looks downright exhausted, as though he hasn't slept a wink all night. Full disclosure, I'm a measly hotel employee, writing an incident report no one will ever read so I don't know how to put this delicately. But here goes nothing: the man looks as though his lack of sleep is not from the reckless fun Mrs. Burkett complained about but rather the lack of it. 

Dr. Ramsey hesitates mid-stride, looking at the door as though it poses a mystifying dilemma. Jaw working, he seems to decide something, jolting forward to take hold of the doorknob.

Reason seems to catch up to him because he exhales noticeably and releases the doorknob as though it scorched his skin. Looking angry but determined, he strides down the hall toward the elevator. 

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

3:18 AM

______________________________

Received on Sunday

3:54 AM

_____________________________

Accessed via Ethan Ramsey’s camera roll

4:13 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

7:20 AM

______________________________ 

Failed Login on Sunday

Nurses’ Station desktop | Third Floor 

7:53 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

from: Bryce Lahela

to: Brittany Ryan

8:01 AM

______________________________ 

Searched on Sunday

Googled by Sienna Trinh

 8:01 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

from: Sienna Trinh

to: Wayne Bradley Torning

8:19 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

8:35 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

8:51 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

9:02 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

9:15 AM

______________________________ 

9:32 AM 

The Celestial Incident Report

Camera footage transcript

Hall 4000

Written by: Anthony Romero

Re: Guest Complaint

Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, dressed in pool attire, grapples with the key card to his room, the technology somehow perplexing to a man who went to med school. The struggle is short lived because the door swings open from the inside, revealing the second guest on file, Dr. Lilac Allende. 

Again, no one reads these anyway so I can confidently say that if I wasn't a goddamn professional, I would've promptly slid into her DMs. She would've rejected me, of course, but you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, am I right? 

Dr. Ramsey freezes as his eyes land on her, the muscles of his back tensing. Dr. Allende instinctively does the same, eyes going wide, much like a defenseless bunny facing the snarling snout of a wolf. They stay motionless in stunned silence for so long, I had to check the footage to make sure it hadn't frozen. 

After what seems like an eternity, Dr. Ramsey clears his throat and averts his eyes, as though interested in the carpet's God awful pattern. This reaction is definitely the wrong one because Dr. Allende pulls herself to her full height, eyes alight with fire. 

Goddamn. My bunny analogy was way off because this girl looks anything but defenseless when she is this pissed. 

“I came back to change,” he explains, probably feeling her glare burning into his face. 

“We need ice,” she says at the same time, lifting the empty ice bucket she holds.

They definitely don't need any. The ice in her voice and demeanor is enough to stock the poolside bar during spring break. 

Dr. Ramsey looks at her then and when their eyes meet, an unspoken conversation passes between them. Slowly, her resolute anger begins to melt. Unmistakable hurt flits through her features and this time, she's the one to look away. 

What the hell happened with these two? 

Before Dr. Ramsey says anything, she moves around him and strides down the hall with unstoppable determination. He moves to follow her, but with considerable effort he forces himself to stop, watching her disappear instead. 

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

10:22 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

10:51 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

10:59 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

11:36 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

11:41 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

11:58 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

12:04 PM

______________________________ 

Edenbrook Hospital on Yelp

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

1:23 PM

Full transcript of review:

This review is regarding the "care" I received from one Dr. Lilac Allende. Is it normal to almost die at the hands of your doctor? I didn't think so either. Yet here we are. I went in because I had a horrible chest pain that got worse with each day. They assigned Dr. Allende, an intern, to me which was already kind of subpar but it's reduced cost medical care right? I should have trusted my gut because she diagnosed pneumonia and prescribed macrolide antibiotics azithromycin…. which I am allergic to!!! Don't they have charts for this reason? 

Or maybe she can't read English given the language barrier. Do they need to start printing patient charts in whatever foreign language she speaks to avoid death? 

I don't need to give you the gory details of what happened next, right ? 

Anaphylactic Shock. Code blue. Defibrillator. I found out I wasn't the first patient this happened to under her care. There was an almost identical incident on her first day. When I tried to complain to management, they brushed it aside. Word around the hospital is that her boss favorites her. Figures. 

______________________________

Received on Sunday

1:49 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

1:56 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

1:57 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

1:58 PM

______________________________ 

Drafted on Sunday

status: NOT SENT

1:59 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

3:23 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

4:03 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

4:13 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

5:26 PM

from Sienna Trinh

to Wayne Bradley Torning

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

5:41 PM

from: Sienna Trinh

to: Danny Cardinal 

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

6:32 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

6:36 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

6:45 PM

______________________________

Sent on Sunday

6:52 PM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

7:10 PM

______________________________ 

7:26 PM

The Celestial Incident Report 

Camera footage transcript 

Hall 4000

Written by: Anthony Romero

Re: Guest Complaint 

Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey looks like a tortured man as he paces in front of their door. He runs restless hands through his hair, completely unaware of the effect this has on the majority of the staff reviewing this footage. He pauses in front of the door, pinching the bridge of his nose and raising his gaze upward, as though sending a silent prayer to anyone listening. 

Jesus, Buddha, Beyoncé—whoever is up there, help this poor man out. 

The door opens, causing him to flinch slightly. In the threshold stands Dr. Allende, wearing one of the hotel's fluffy, white robes. Though she is fully covered, save for her legs, Dr. Ramsey still blushes, as though aware of what lies beneath the fabric. 

Dr. Allende, meanwhile, crosses her arms, leaning against the doorway as she studies him. This time, when their eyes scan one another, it's not with the frustration or resentment from the morning. 

“Come inside.”

Her voice is quiet. 

Dr. Ramsey's jaw clenches. 

“Lilac—” 

“We can't.” Acceptance ripples through her voice. “I know.”

Dr. Ramsey looks at her with an acute mixture of misery and longing. 

“We can't ignore each other forever though.”

“I know. That's not what I want either.”

She nods once in response. 

More silence.

“You're not angry anymore?” 

The question is unexpected because her gaze snaps up to his. 

“I wasn't angry at you, Ethan,” she says after a pensive pause. “I was angry at myself for refusing to let go of what happened. I just want to put it behind me without a backward glance, like you did.”

Those last three words get a reaction out of him. His jaw clenches and strains with effort, his shoulders looking equally as tense. He looks away from her, perhaps afraid that if he continues to look into her beautiful, earnest face, he will contradict her. 

The way he had been pacing in front of her door only minutes prior, the way he looked at her this morning, the way his hand gripped the door knob the night before—all of it suggested her assessment as wrong. He was just as trapped in the previous night as she was. 

“Lilac, I'm sorry about last night.”

She looks stunned for a brief second. When she recovers, she shakes her head in a tiny movement.

 “I'm not.”

He takes in a long breath, allowing hope to filter through his expression. 

“Now, come on. We have an early flight and my boss is making me go into work right after we land.”

“Sounds like an asshole.”

“The worst,” she agrees with a hum. 

His quiet chuckle and the way he shakes his head is the last thing the camera captures before he follows her inside. 

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

8:34 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

10:01 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Monday

3:56 AM

_____________________

Posted on Monday

4:23 AM

_____________________

Posted on Monday

8:03 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Monday

8:16 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Monday

9:11 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Monday

9:56 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Monday

9:57 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Monday

10:03 AM

______________________________ 

Status change on Monday

10:21 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Monday

11:33 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Monday

11:50 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Monday

12:33 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Monday

12:40 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Monday

12:49 PM

_____________________________

A/N: I really hope you liked this because I poured my whole heart and two brain cells into it! Did you find my little Easter egg?

A few things:

I was going to include the song playing on MC’s phone in the balcony but decided that everyone has a different one. And I love that. Mine is Nirvana by Sam Smith. What’s yours?

That Yelp ordeal happened in real life at my old job. It was the shadiest shit I have ever seen. Even the meanest bitch at work was so shocked that someone would be this much of a snake. Someone printed the “review” about a coworker and posted it everywhere for everyone to see like Regina George. It was awful.

 People also wrote computer passwords everywhere and just left them lying around. These computers had highly confidential info but people didn’t give a single fuck.

 I picture Ethan picking up the Hamilton book because MC is obsessed with the musical. Plus, he’s a history nerd. But listening to it reminds him of her when he’s trying his damndest to forget about her. LOL good luck bro 

I really debated having MC text him a risky picture after the kiss. But then I figured a) this is self-indulgent and b) once he kissed her, all reason and all restraints went out the window.

 Thank you to everyone for being so patient while waiting for this! Thank you to @aestheticartsx for finding some of these amazing pics. She is the best! 

 I love you all.

-Bree 

________________________

tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself,  @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth​, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07​, @schnitzelbutterfingers​, @doilooklikeiknow​, @snesdudes​, @kingliam2019​, @perriewinklenerdie​, @cinnamonspongecake​, @choicesstan1​, @queencarb​, @ethxnrxmsey​, @missmiimiie​, @jens-diamondchoices​, @adamsdumortain​, @apphia12​, @kalogh​, @lucy-268​, @binny1985​, @queenbirbs​, @honeyandsunfl0wers​, @newcolonies​, @lilyvalentine​, @rigatonireid​, @interobanginyourmom​, @parkerattano​, @custaroonie​, @nikki-2406​, @lilypills​, @chasingrobbie​, @nooruleman​,  @lonely-mxxnlight​, @ruinedbypixels​, @shadynaturehilariouscookie​, @tsrookie​, @mvalentine​, @professorkingslay​, @drakewalkerfantasy​, @casey-v​, @helloblueeyedcat​, @mysticaurathings​, @blossomanarchy​, @thegreentwin​, @togetherwearerapture​, @rookieoh​, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie​, @natashajaniphilchoices​, @mysticalgalaxysstuff​, @hatescapsicum​, @choices-lurker​, @kiara-36​, @junehiratas​, @danijimenezv​, @macy-ray85​, @adrex04​, @canigetanawwjunk​, @sanchita012​, @overwhelminglyaquarius​ , @scorpiochick8​, @skylarklyon​, @starrystarrytrouble​, @mercury84choices​, @drariellevalentine​, @ethanrcmsey​, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost​, @kaavyaethanramsey​ , @udishaman​, @a-crepusculo​, @quacksonlover​,

@varikasnuori​, @dimitriwife​, @genevievemd​, @shanzay44​, @fabi-en-ciel​, @trebondialanna​, @emotionalswift2, @lady-calypso​, 

(If I forgot anyone, please DM me!)

[killyourpoet]

What to expect on 12th September? (NEET 2021)

Hey everybody, if you're appearing for the NEET 2021 exam this Sunday (12th September 2021), I've compiled a list of some important things you might want to keep in mind.

The National Entrance-cum-Eligibility Test (NEET) is the national medical entrance exam in India. It is the only gateway into all medical schools in the country. It is conducted annually around May, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, it has been postponed to September in 2020 and 2021. This year, 1.6 million students will be appearing for the exam.

[This list is by no means exhaustive, I only speak from my experience and the advice of friends and teachers. Feel free to add anything I might have missed out!]

How to make the most of this last week before the exam?

Do not experiment with anything new. Doing so might disturb the delicate subconscious programming that your brain has undergone through all these months of studying and practicing. By experimentation, I mean anything other than the routine that you've built while solving question papers. If you're used to starting with Biology, then moving on to Chemistry and ending with Physics, do not attempt to spice up your 3 hours by indulging in adventure sports like staring with Physics first. This will end in disaster.

Look through all the important things at least once. I know, I know. That's 10 fat books in one week. But remember that this is not the first time you're reading it. Skim. When you catch on something you're not too familiar with, only then should you actually read.

NCERT = holy book. Idk if you've heard but actually reading the books prescribed by the examining body will most definitely give you an edge over someone who hasn't. I cannot stress this enough. They will LITERALLY take out things from the NCERT and slap that onto the paper and call it a day. Remember that the examiners have to cater to those who do not have access to / cannot afford any sort of study material other than the NCERT. While study guides can help you interpret the NCERT, they cannot substitute it.

Have a plan. It doesn't have to be grand or very detailed. Just clearly defining what you intend to do with your time will suffice.

Set your internal clock. Practice at least one exam a day from 2:00 pm to 5:00 pm IST because that's when the actual exam is held. You want to maximize concentration and attention at that time of the day.

Practice answering on OMR sheets. This year, because of COVID, all your mock tests were probably online. In that case, take a few hours to practice exams on the OMR. The time management on that is very different from online exams.

Eat well. Remember to drink plenty of water. Try to eat things that have come directly from the earth and onto your plate. I know it's hard and the anxiety is enough to make you under eat / overeat but messing up because of something as trivial as meal choices would kinda suck tbh. Please do not eat an entire large pizza all by yourself the day before the exam. Stay the hell away from carbonated drinks for at least this one week. I am begging you. You might not notice but they seriously mess with your head. Whole foods are the way 2 go babes

What to expect on the day of the examination?

The NTA will be releasing the admit cards 3 days before the exam. Your exam centre and time slot to show up will be mentioned on it. This is most probably done to (a) prevent unfair practices and (b) give students enough time to visit the centre.

Know your exam centre beforehand. If you're living with your parents who will be driving you to the centre, you could even ask them to visit the centre the day before just so you don't waste time searching for the centre on the day of the exam. Believe me, a lot of people have lost an entire year because of this.

The peeing. Listen. They'll allow you to go to the washroom in the middle of the exam, of course. But if you ask me, try to avoid getting up to pee. Try to time your water such that you wouldn't have to pee during the exam. Please make sure you pee right before the exam. Idk about you but the exam pee has always been a real problem for me and together with my anxiety, it has ruined a lot of exams. It also breaks your momentum and you'll have to re-orient yourself when you get back. NEET isn't like JEE - it's not about how smart you are, it's about how efficient and accurate you are, because that's what a doctor needs to be.

Eat a light, nutritious meal. Something that'll give you energy but isn't too hard to digest. You don't want to nod off during the exam. That would be highly inconvenient.

Be on time. If you don't turn up on time, no matter what, you will not be allowed inside. Again, a lot of people I know have messed up here.

Security check. You will be checked before entering the centre. Do not wear anything dark (black, dark blue, dark brown etc). Do not wear jeans or any tight clothes. All your clothes must fit loosely and they must be light. This is done to prevent people from sneaking in transmission devices. If you wear long sleeves, you will be asked to cut them then and there. Do not wear heavily embroidered clothes. Do not have any metal on you. Take off all jewelry at home. If you wear a bra, remember to wear a sports bra or one that doesn't have any metal hooks. You can't wear shoes - your feet must be visible. Wear flip-flops or thin sandals. People have been made to take off their shoes before and write the exam barefoot. They will provide a fresh mask at the centre and gloves. This time, due to COVID-19 restrictions, they will not be doing body pat frisking, they will not be checking your ears and mouth. There will be bluetooth jammers in the exam hall to prevent any transmissions and the entire exam will be videographed.

Stay calm. I know it looks like a high security airport check and you'll probably be scanned several times and subjected to several layers of screening but remember - this is done so that nobody has an unfair advantage over you. India has incredibly clever people, but sometimes for the wrong reasons.

While writing the exam:

Don't panic. If you see a question that looks hard do! not! panic! because we always know more than we think we do!! Wait a second, linger for a moment and the answer should come to you.

Know what to leave. If you aren't aiming to get a perfect 720/720 then you should leave time consuming questions and try to do as many questions you know as possible. If you are aiming for a perfect score, do the same but remember that you need to leave sufficient time at the end to come back to them.

Repeat. Remember - this is just another one of the hundreds of exams you've done. Follow the same strategy you're used to. Most definitely DO NOT experiment in the final exam.

Lastly, always remember that ur super cool and smart and amazing and one mistake won't define you. Your worth is inherent and not determined by an exam. Your timeline is very different from someone else's. This is not a race, it's about doing things right. Your physical and mental health are more important than anything else in life. Do your best today and try again tomorrow. And then the day after that.

If you have any questions, feel free to message me :))

Best of luck!!

— Svante

[modern-inheritance]

I don’t really know where I’m going with this but do you have any Oromis/Morzan headcanons? Before or during the fall, or Oromis’ feelings towards Morzan afterwards?

I have a few! More than a few apparently, I'm just finishing this up and uh...yeah that got longer than I thought!

I’m going to do my best to leave Glaedr and Morzan’s dragon out of these because while they’re large parts of each other's lives and even maybe personalities considering how deeply bonded Riders and their dragons can be, I want to be sure I’m keeping the characters separate. Kinda like how you shouldn’t constantly group identical twins together as a single entity, ya know?

Alright let's start off with Morzan. Time for some backstory!

Modern Inheritance!Morzan

Morzan was born into a family of low level nobles. By the time Morzan was about six or seven though, the family had fallen out of favor and was struggling to keep up appearances, spending money they didn’t necessarily have on lavish items and acting increasingly narcissistic in a desperate attempt to hold onto the standing and power they once had.

Morzan probably started showing antisocial behavior around this time, mainly impulsive petty theft, inserting himself in dangerous situations, and manipulation through charm with adults and intimidation and violence with other children. Due to his family’s last shreds of political strength and their long time in the area, most of these incidents were swept under the rug or outright ignored by his family. This generally left a very angry, disgusted-with-others, burgeoning narcissistic young Morzan to his own devices.

When Morzan was chosen by his dragon, his parents were quietly glad that he wouldn’t be their responsibility anymore. They didn’t disclose any of his troubling behaviors and Morzan was quick to understand that he would need to tamp the more obvious ones down and manipulate others into hiding his transgressions.

Despite all this, Morzan and his dragon do deeply care for each other. Due to Morzan’s mind linking with the hatchling, there was a sort of evening out of his behaviors as some were ‘shared’ do the hatchling and some of the hatchling’s personality was ‘shared’ with Morzan. This is what helped Morzan fly under the radar for so much longer until his eventual betrayal.

On a lighter note, Morzan shot up like a weed when he hit puberty, once growing nearly five inches (~12.7 cm) over the span of a year. It took a year or so for his muscles to visibly bulk up, so he was this tall gangly teenager for a while. His clothes constantly needed altering.

Initially Morzan doesn’t really know what to think of Oromis and Glaedr. His family was always distracted from giving him the attention and nurturing he needed, and suddenly he has not only this baby dragon who he can share his frustrations and emotions with but also parental figures.

Eventually he warmed up to them, but more in the sense that he became attached to their attention and the praise he got when he did well in magic and other lessons. He didn’t showboat as much, but would push himself to get more compliments, praise and attention from Oromis. Oromis saw this more as Morzan taking his training seriously. There were a few instances of Morzan and his dragon being pointed out as instigators of some scuffles or small acts of possible, unproven acts of sabotage harming or tripping up other Riders-in-training, but these were generally believed to be accidents or bad luck.

Morzan’s bullying and belittling of Brom was the result of Morzan feeling like his unfettered access to Oromis and Glaedr’s attention was being threatened. He knew he couldn’t get away with physically injuring Brom and Saphira I, so his physical actions never really went past ‘accidental’ full force hits in sparring and roughhousing. If Brom got praise or compliments from Oromis, Morzan would seethe quietly, eventually exploding in rage at some later point after it built up. Again, Oromis merely thought this was just adolescent growing pains.

Wooo! That is getting LONG, eh? I’ve got more, but for now I’m going to move on to Oromis and his feelings around Morzan’s betrayal and link you to whatever extra stuff I add later. I’m really unsure about the timeline of when Morzan betrayed the Riders and when it was known that he had, so I’m mostly going to skip that chunk. Let's go!

Modern Inheritance!Oromis

Even without 100% knowing/being sure of Morzan’s betrayal, I think there was a whirlwind of confusion and general chaos when Galbatorix murdered Shurikan’s original Rider. Who was a child. A Rider had murdered a child Rider and while everyone knew Galbatorix was unstable I don’t think anyone would have expected that. Oromis was swept up in all this and didn’t have time to really ask where Morzan was. I mean, Morzan was a grown man at that point and well beyond Oromis’s control.

Morzan’s involvement was probably confirmed without a doubt at the initial attack on Ilirea, and Oromis and Glaedr didn’t have time to process this until after their brief capture.

Oromis felt some really strong guilt. That’s putting it bluntly.  Let’s expand it, shall we?

First off, I think Oromis felt some guilt over not being able to help in the sort of final big battle at Ilirea. He was previously quite powerful since he was on the council that refused Galbatorix a new dragon (that’s a whole other topic to look at later on btw), and despite his age and wisdom I think it’s safe to assume that any sudden event causing massive life changes can be pretty shocking. Oromis felt powerless and after the deaths that occured in Galbatorix’s initial attack with the Forsworn on the Riders, I think he knew that there would be more. And all he and Glaedr could do was hide in Ellesméra and tend to their wounds and new maladies.

As they healed I’m pretty sure Oromis spent a lot of time thinking ‘how could I have stopped this?’ Hindsight is...well, whatever-elves-have/20, and Oromis would have put all the signs together that were telling him that there was something off about Morzan from the start. He probably thought subconsciously that he was fixing Morzan and didn’t want to acknowledge just how dangerous that little 10 year old boy and scrawny hatchling he had met all those years ago had become as he grew. There was also a lot of guilt post-Ilirea’s final fall around not protecting Brom from Morzan enough, and feeling like a lot of Brom’s pain was Oromis’s own fault because of this.

Oh man, Oromis also has heaps of survivors guilt about the Riders that, while he does work through it and focuses on extending his life to train the next Rider, never really fades completely. He understands that he could not fight in his condition, but there’s always the nagging ‘what if’ questions that can rear up unexpectedly.

Once he learns of Murtagh and Thorn and their forced fealty to Galbatorix, I think Oromis’s guilt probably pushed him over to definitely join the fight at Gil’ead. It’s likely that he feels that if he had separated Brom and Morzan, had taken the signs of Morzan’s growing antisocial disorder seriously and gotten him proper help, and hadn’t been so blind during the Golden Age, then in some strange way he may have prevented everything from happening. Morzan wouldn’t have let Galbatorix into Ilirea, Shruikan wouldn’t have been stolen, the Forsworn wouldn’t have been influenced by Galbatorix and Morzan (who used his manipulative charm to sway some), and it all comes to, in the end, Murtagh and Thorn, both relatively innocent in this and dragged in only due to parentage and some situations which they have no control over, would have never been forced through torture and cruelty to join Galbatorix and fight people they once saw as friends and family.

Overall I think Oromis, while having processed/processing and come to terms with the Riders Fall and the hand he inadvertently had in it due to his connection to and, in some ways, his failures surrounding Morzan, he still carries this deep feeling of guilt. He doesn’t let it simply sit there though, as he pushes himself to be able to train the next generation, but it’s always there.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH okay that’s what I’ve got for now. Holy shit that’s a lot of bulletpoints, huh? 

I spent some time researching antisocial behavior and Antisocial Personality Disorder, but per usual I want to state that I am by no means an expert, and the behaviors and traits portrayed here are not the only results, symptoms, or scenarios that can occur when someone has antisocial behavior or ASPD. Mental health is a difficult subject to write about, especially when I have no personal or second hand experience with the specifics, and I’m always open to educating myself on these topics. I am doing my best to learn so that I don’t stereotype or offend. If there are comments/concerns/critique please please don’t ever feel bad about messaging me privately, via the comments, via reblog, or through the ask box point out what I got wrong or if you simply want to share your experiences or concerns. 

I’ll probably have more Morzan specific backstory and ideas later on, but for now I need to make some dinner and get to work on the other ask. Cheers!

Thank you again to @siriusly-misunderstood-creatures​ for the ask! I always appreciate asks and comments, they make my brain work!!

[starkeristheendgame]

If you are okay with it, I was wondering if you could do a body switch soulmate au. When you first make eye contact with your soulmate you switch bodies. You stay in each other's bodies for 24 hours. I feel like this could cause some shenanigans on both sides. Tony hasn't had to be taught anything in awhile and Peter doesn't know how to run a company.

I was a little apprehensive about this idea at first but honestly? I adore it. I am afraid, however, I took this away from the ‘humor’ pathway and plopped it straight down into ‘light angst’. Please accept my apologies for that - And I’d be happy to write something more lighthearted if this doesn’t hit the spot. Keeping your own emotions and mindset out of what you write is hard sometimes. 

Slight AU in that they meet differently to CW. 

TW: Light angst | Slight hurt 

He was going to lose his fucking mind. He could feel each one of his IQ points disintegrating as he stared at the board (an actual digital board, what fucking year were they in? 2015?) and tapped his pen restlessly on the desk. He hadn’t been to school since he was eighteen. The last time he’d been in a classroom was January, giving a motivational speech to Princeton graduates. 

He felt too small and too stifled and if this woman pronounced Epinephrine wrong one more time, he was going to launch his desk at her and snap that stupid board in half. 

Because he could do that, now. Displays of sheer power. Because Peter Parker had been bitten by a genetically modified spider and Tony was currently occupying Peter’s body. 

Soulmates were so, so overrated. 

“Hey, wonder kid. Tap that pen one more time” the girl to his left whispered, and Tony shot her a cool side-eye. MJ quirked a brow at him, equally unimpressed, and nodded to the board. Tony scowled but knew the effect was ruined by the soft, pretty baby-face he currently wore. Curse Peter and his lopsided brows and his huge eyes. Curse soulmates for existing. 

MJ was thus far the only one who’d noticed The Switch. It was only sheer coincidence that Peter and Tony both had brown eyes of a similar enough shade that the telling switch of eye colour between soulmates hadn’t given them away. MJ, however, was astoundingly attuned into her best friend, and it had only taken three minutes in her presence for her scowl at him and ask who the fuck was wearing her friend’s meatsuit. Tony had to begrudgingly admit that he could see why her and Peter were good friends. She’d looked unimpressed at his claim until he’d pulled out his (Peter’s) phone to show the frantic texts from that morning, and then she’d huffed, rolled her eyes, and dragged him to first period. 

He thought lunch would be a reprieve when it came, but instead he found himself staring with growing dismay at a tray of food that he’d refuse even if he was a prisoner, blanching in disgust when a sloppy excuse for a mac’n’cheese was dumped into one of the slots. “I’m going to die” he complained, ushered along by an unsympathetic MJ. “This is cruel. This is inhumane. Dogs don’t even get fed this”. 

“Yeah, well. You’re a billionaire, so. Put up or shut up. I have no sympathy for capitalist elitists”. And, wow, rude. But understandable. He sank down onto one of the bench seats and tried to stop his stomach from rolling at the way the meal wobbled when it was set down. He’d been poking at it for several moments, largely ignored by MJ, when a shadow fell over his table. He looked up and stared with disinterest at the sneering figure above him, before he sighed. 

“Which one are you, then? Neb? Flake?” 

“Flash” the form above him frowned, and Tony waved a dismissive hand. 

“Yeah, whatever. Class killed off half my IQ points and I’m not wasting the rest on you. Off you pop”. He turned back to his pitiful excuse of a meal, prodding the macaroni distrustfully with his fork. The boy besides him gaped, flustered, before turning on his heel and stomping off. When Tony glanced up, the girl was looking appraisingly over her book at him. 

“Maybe you should leave your balls behind. Peter could do with them” she noted, before dropping her gaze again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“How much money does he actually have?” 

“Sir’s total net worth including assets, liabilities and investments are currently estimated at just short of a trillion, Mr. Parker. In terms of ‘real time currently’ Sir has £515,268,385,012 as of the current hour”. 

Peter was gonna pass out. He was wearing the body of a man with five-hundred billion in the bank. He’d known Tony Stark was rich, obscenely and un-necessarily so, but that was a whole other level. Vaguely unsteady, he sank down on the plush couch, feeling a little green. It had already been a few hours since waking, but he had yet to get used to the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, Tony Stark. 

“Does that bother you?” The artificial voice asked after a moment, sounding impossibly curious. Peter hadn’t thought AI of this level possible, but here he was, talking to a voice that was more realistic than some of the living people he knew. 

“Its...A shock, I guess. I mean, it does bother me, I suppose. Nobody needs that much money. That much cold cash alone could eradicate homelessness in America. But...I don’t know. Its his money, he earns it. He saves the world and stuff. I don’t know how you could put a value on some of the things he’s done”. 

The AI was quiet for a moment, pensive. “Sir’s ‘profession’ is high cost also, Mr. Parker. The worth of the Mark IVII alone is £6,000,500,000”. Peter thought about it for a moment, then gave in, humming softly. He supposed in that sense, having that much money kind of didn’t matter, then, when a huge chunk of it was consumed by saving the world. He’d seen how often that suit got dinged up, and had no doubt repairs and replacing parts was costly. 

“Am I allowed to get something to eat?” He asked after a moment, stomach rumbling a little. He’d spent so much time this morning freaking out and being consoled by JARVIS that he’d missed breakfast and lunch had slipped him by. 

“Of course, Mr. Parker. Several components of the kitchen are automated, but I am capable of guiding through any recipes or devices you are unfamiliar with”. 

JARVIS had apparently activated something called ‘Romeo and Juliet Protocol’ when it had been revealed that Tony had been Switched, and a large majority of the Tower was closed off and protected. Peter couldn’t leave the penthouse and JARVIS had strict control of everything, even down to the doors. Peter was happy enough to just sit there and wait it out, though. As amazing as being here was, snooping was rude, especially when what he could find could potentially compromise the entire world. 

He chose to make a simple, small sandwich which involved nothing more than a single knife and plate, marvelling at the giant fridge and the ridiculous amount of food within. Apparently Mr. Stark had a chef that stopped by once every other day with prepared meals, and was on-call for whenever he required a fresh meal without having to cook it. The produce was organic and far different to the sad, wilting lettuce that could be found at the local Cheap Fresh. 

Technically, if it was plausible, when you Switched you were supposed to follow a specific protocol set up by the Government, but Mr. Stark had ultimately lost his entire mind at discovering his soulmate was fourteen and had immediately demanded Peter stay locked up like Rapunzel while he pretended to be him for the day to throw off suspicion. Peter couldn’t deny that had hurt a little, but he understood it. Soulmates or not it would be the scandal of the century - Tony would be called all sorts of things at best and investigated at worst, and the nature of their age difference meant a lifetime of interference and monitoring by the Government and protective services. He knew it was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, to hide it from the world. Tony had suggested a private agreement, a ridiculous sum of money in exchange for Peter’s silence. 

He realised he’d been staring morosely at his plate when JARVIS prompted him softly, and he sighed, taking a bite. There was no physical remote for the TV but JARVIS helped him to access a cache of movies and he settled on Inception, his weakness for Tom Hardy and Leonardo DiCaprio soothing the ache of his new reality. 

“Am I allowed to ask what running a business is like?” He asked after a while, head balanced on his palm. 

“In what regard, Mr. Parker?” 

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I’m fifteen. I don’t know how to run a company, let alone run a company and be a superhero. What kinda stuff does he do? Does he attend meetings? Does he fly around the world on company retreats like in the movies?” 

JARVIS sounded lightly amused when he replied. “Sir has delegated much of the daily company operation amongst several trusted employees, but he is still the namesake, owner and CEO of Stark Industries. He does attend frequent meetings, but most of Sir’s ‘flying around the world’ is done for leisure or Iron Man related activity”. 

“Sir spends most of his time in the lab, conducting important work for both his priorities. Sir also does a respectable amount of charity work, investment work and supportive work. I believe his latest venture is funding the entirety of MIT’s PhD graduate projects”. 

Wow. That was...That would be a lot of money. And being supported by someone like Tony Stark was bound to be something to boast about, something that would fluff up your resume a little. 

“Does he enjoy it?” Peter asked after a moment, fingertips raising absently to the arc reactor in his chest. It ached constantly, a low-level background pain that never quite faded out of touch, the odd sensation of a gaping maw in his chest something that had made him heave earlier that morning. Mr. Stark was tired, burnt out, but still going. It made Peter want to spend his twenty-four hours just sleeping, to try and soothe the man’s headache. 

“Sir finds great gratification in his duties” JARVIS replied quietly, though he did not specify which. Peter gave a hum and succumbed to the desire to nap, curled up on the corner of the couch with Inception fading quietly into the background. 

He ate again when he woke up, and blinked when he saw the time. Mr. Stark’s phone had been heavily locked down, but he could still access the message channel between this number and his own. The messages there were disheartening. 

Told your hot Aunt I’m staying at that Nate kids house tonight. I’ll be coming to the Tower, but you won’t see me. I’ll stay on the level below.

Sorry, kid. Seeing someone else wearing me like a Givenchy suit is just too head-spinning. 

JARVIS will keep you safe up there. We switch back at midnight, so try and get some sleep. You’ll wake up as yourself and I’ll get the plan in motion. 

“JARVIS, when was the last time Mr. Stark cried?” He asked timidly, and the AI was silent for a moment. 

“Four years ago, Mr. Parker”. 

“Oh,” he breathed out, vision blurring. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m about to ruin that” and he let the teardrops fall.

[parakeatswrites]

22. Space AU & 56. Awful first meeting for whatever pairing you like!

Thank you for the prompt!! Sorry that it took me so long to get 

I'm a sucker for the kind of space AU that has junkyard/wildwest aesthetcs and ai/telepathically linked ships. Also this idea got away from me a bit so we're looking at a Sarchengsey with a side of pynch. Had to stop myself before it got longer, but if I had more room, there would be lots of Blue & Ronan annoying friendship overtones.

[Link to OG post - give me 2 tropes & a pairing, and I’ll combine them!]

Either there was another glitch in the holographic screen of Blue’s pilot console, or there was a weak SOS beacon 20 clicks to their port side. She squinted at the static. The colour overlays had bugged out a week ago and she’d been flying by feel ever since. Somehow, she had thought flying between planets with contraband would be more exciting, but apparently anything could become banal if done frequently enough. 

“I think there’s someone out there,” Henry told her, fresh from the sonic shower and a nap in their tiny bunk. He leaned over her shoulder, warm and smelling of the cologne he had insisted on buying at the last trading post.

“Unlikely,” Blue shrugged him off and slouched into the creaky pilot’s seat.

“Open your eyes, Blue-bird,” he pointed at the screen as though he was any better at piloting than her, “it’s faint, but there’s a beacon, just there.”

Blue jostled the controls and his fingertip poked through the fuzzy projection. 

She said, “that’s an AGG beacon. Only R.A.V.E.Ns have them.” 

“Ohh,” Henry sounded thrilled at the prospect, “an Academy ship! I wonder what they’re doing all the way out here? Imagine swooping in and saving the day!”  

Blue pretended for a moment that he wasn’t going to convince her to check it out. She didn’t want anything to do with an Academy ship - everyone knew that R.A.V.E.Ns were assholes zipping through their backwater little sector like they owned it. With the way they were setting up research stations on each mid-sized moon, they might as well own the sector.

She was already turning towards the SOS beacon. 

Their hail was picked up the moment they were in range. Henry gleefully reeled off the standard opening call - at least he omitted their serial number - as he turned slightly in the tiny cockpit to hover over the communication panel. 

The voice that came back was threaded with static, but still arched with the entitled sort of accent you would expect from a R.A.V.E.N pilot. 

“Is your ship refurb Old Guard tech?” 

“Circa old age fourteen-fifteen,” Henry confirmed coyly.

“Are you seriously flirting about the commission date of our unlicensed ship?” Blue hissed incredulously. 

The voice was back enthusiastically, “I thought I recognized the symbols on the anterior. She’s beautiful, but she’s seen better days, I expect?” 

And Henry was swaying over the comms unit, eyes lit up by the blue dash. Blue could nearly see him writing the back-cover of his own trashy romance novel in real time.

“Do you need help or not?” Blue cut in, testily, before they got derailed further. 

“Oh, yes, I expect so,” the voice still did not seem to belong to someone who needed to be rescued. 

“You don’t sound like you need to be rescued,” Blue said. 

“Well, the AGG beacon does reach quite far,” the voice was happy to inform her, “I dare say that another smuggler will likely come along before my life support systems are critical, but they probably won’t have as interesting a ship as you do.” 

“I hate him,” Blue muttered. 

“Blue, be a dear and reroute some power to the de-con unit?” Henry asked, blowing a kiss towards her.

The first thing the R.A.V.E.N pilot said to them after stepping out of their tiny closet of a de-con unit was, “have you had any luck accessing the ship’s AI? This should really be in a museum - they’ve been doing stellar work at rigging up a device to allow interfacing with pre-Fall AI.” 

And because the first thing the pilot had done before speaking was tug off his pressure suit’s helmet to reveal mussed brown hair and a face that belonged on a recruitment poster, Henry mimed a swoon. 

Blue flipped on the janky autopilot and spun in her chair to glare at him, “listen, no more of,” she gestured at the pilot up-and-down, “all this.” 

He looked down at himself and seemed to consider this, then earnestly looked back at her, “I think the de-con took care of any pathogens, if that is your concern.” 

Blue had the patience to either pilot the ship, or deal with a floppy-haired Academy pilot, not both. Since Henry was already all-in on the romance of picking up a stranded pilot, Blue said, “I can either pilot this ship or deal with you.” 

“I would be happy to pilot the ship,” a small twitch to the pilot’s lips said that he was teasing her. 

Blue scowled and spun her chair back to the pilot controls, “we’re not taking him all the way to the Academy.” 

“We would love to take you to the Academy,” Henry said. 

“Henry.” 

“My apologies, I have been remiss in introductions,” the pilot sounded like he was offering a hand to shake, “Lieutenant Richard Gansey the third. But please,” and his voice was warmer again, “just call me Gansey.” 

“Henry,” Blue could hear Henry’s genuine excitement, even as he continued coyly, “you can call me, Henry, Gansey-man.” 

“A pleasure,” Gansey continued, “and for fear of offence, have you interfaced with the AI?” 

Blue wished she had - it was the whole reason she and Henry had kept this junker of a ship even though it had cost more in repairs than to initially buy off of the dealer Seondeok had connected them with. Blue had spent her whole youth dreaming of two things: getting off of that small moon, and figuring out even a small corner of the mystery of pre-Fall AI tech.

She didn’t want this annoying, self-entitled R.A.V.E.N pilot to stick his Academy nose into it. 

Henry said, “we haven’t heard a peep out of the AI.” 

Only the bloodlines from Glyndower’s Court were able to communicate with AI without bio-mods and they had all died during the Fall. Claiming to be able to interface with an AI was equivalent to trying to claim a birthright to a throne purposefully kept empty. That was a one-way ticket to a quiet death. Blue and Henry weren’t stupid enough to admit that to a stranger from the Academy even if they were fluent. 

“Say you were interested in changing that,” Gansey stepped up behind the pilot’s chair and Blue could see his boyish smile in the corner in her vision. Against her better judgement it lit up something sleeping in her gut. He continued, “I might know someone who could help.” 

[Star-wipe to a rusted out garage on a dusty planet with a tarp-sign that says “Parrish’s Repairs”. Blue’s ship kicks up dust as Ronan stalks out the corrugated steel door with his hand on the heel of a holstered pistol.]

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Rock n’ Roll

This one is definitely a little late.  Took me a while to write it, and I had to make several changes.  It might be a bit awkward in parts, but that is because I have tried to portray each character faithfully and tried to have them do what they would actually do in the battle scenes.  As per usual, I own none of these characters except for Thomas Drake.  Enjoy!  (Side note: I figured out how to use the “read more” so this won’t be as long in the dash!)   

In the hangar of the Normandy, Adam Vir and Master Chief waited.  The Chief was currently flipping through everyone’s communication channels.  

“Do you really trust this guy, Captain?”  That was the internal communications of the Enterprise.

“No.  And his group of armsmen is putting me on edge.  But we control this ship and we have transporters and they don’t.”  The rest coming from Kirk’s crew was all military and technological jargon.  He flipped to the Apocalypse's internal communications.

“So, the question is: since it’s a fruit, tomato, mixed with sugar, is ketchup a smoothie?”  That was Drake.  Of course it was.  

“Well, by that definition, yes,” said an unfamiliar voice.

“But ketchup has vinegar in it.  And if you think smoothies have vinegar, well, then you really need to reevaluate your life’s choices,” replied someone else.

“An excellent point!  Indeed, what is a smoothie?  Does vinegar belong in your smoothies?” said Drake.  Master Chief shook his head and changed channels.  He had a feeling that if he listened to that conversation for much longer, his head would implode.    

“How did he get that stuff?  Twenty suits of carapace armor, five crates of hot-shot lasguns, ten crates of normal lasguns, a crate of chainswords, and two power swords, all with Imperial markings!”  That was Kasteen, commander of the Valhallans.  “And, Cain, what was that thing?  An Exitus rifle?  I’ve never heard of it.”

“That last one’s the one that worries me.  The reason I know of it is because of my work with Inquisitor Vail,” replied Cain.

“Shit.  You think he stole it from the Inquisition?”

“The only people who have access to those are Inquisitors and Vindicares.”

“Oh he’s beyond frakked.”  The Chief cut the communications as Shepard walked into the hangar bay.  He was wearing a full set of black combat armor with a heavy helmet.  Vir, the other occupant of the hangar, looked up from where he was fiddling with his own armor.  

“Shepard.  Pleased to see you.”   His one good green eye gleamed from under a shock of blond hair.  “Are we ready to go?”  

“Give me a sec.”  Shepard turned to the hooded and violet masked figure that was present with him at the Scoundrel’s first meeting.  “Tali?” he asked the figure.  “Are they going to know we’re coming?”  

“No, commander.”  It was a feminine voice, with a strange and slightly mechanical accent that emanated from the suit.  “The engineers aboard the Enterprise and Apocalypse are quite good at what they do.  It would be interesting to know what all these new people have!  Technology-wise, I mean.  The possibilities of-”  Shepard cut her off.

“Good to know, Tali.”

“Right.  Sorry.  Got carried away.”  

“If you’d like, I’ll give you a tour of the Apocalypse,” cut in Drake’s suave voice over their earpieces.  “That, of course, extends to the rest of you.”  Master Chief keyed his comm.

“You’ve been listening to us this whole time?” he asked.

“Well, I can’t talk about vinegar smoothies forever, now, can I?  To get more to the point, Cain and I are in position, and Cooper and Quill are on their way.  This thing all depends on you, so I suggest you get down here before they notice fifty Imperial Guardsmen and fifteen mercenary armsmen hanging outside their front gate.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going.”  They boarded the shuttle, Master Chief having to hunch his massive frame to avoid banging into the doors.  The ride to the muddy-brown planet below them was smoot and silent.  From the window of the transport, they could see the silhouettes of the teams’ starships above them, gleaming in the weak yellow light of the nearby sun.  The atmospheric entry was much smoother than either Vir or Master Chief had ever felt, and the shuttle landed on the planet much faster than they expected.  The shuttle’s three occupants disembarked quickly, professionally, and set out in a trot to the distant specter of the military base.  They arrived on schedule, and found a small electrical access passage, barely tall enough to squeeze through, exactly where Drake’s map said it was.  

Drake checked the timer on his wrist computer.  His armsmen and several Imperial Guardsmen cluster around him, waiting expectantly.

“And...nine minutes and twenty-five seconds for Shepard to get his ass in gear and get planetside.  If you had more than ten minutes, pay up.”  There were grumblings in the crowd, while money and liquor exchanged hands.  One of the armsmen looked up.

“Captain, how long for the other timer?”  Drake checked his wrist again.  

“...nineteen minutes and twenty six...twenty seven seconds since we got here, and they still haven’t noticed over a hundred armed hostiles sitting outside their front gate.”  He made a clicking noise with his tongue.  “Sloppy.  If you bet under twenty minutes, you're probably going to be losing something.”  He glanced over to where Cain and Jurgen were leaning against the compound’s outer wall.  “How are you two holding up?”

Cain looked up from a mug of steaming liquid in his hands.  “Fine.  These people still haven’t noticed us?”  Drake snorted.

“No.  I’m really good at what I do, and they’re really bad.  Honestly, I’m not quite sure how they managed to steal the thing we’re after in the first place.”

On the other side of the compound, Peter Quill paced.  

“What’s taking them so long?” he hissed.  Gamora, his green-skinned second in command, looked up from where she was sitting and sharpening a sword.  

“Relax.  We’re fine.”  

“I know…” Quill trailed off, paced more, then turned back.  “Do you think that these people know what they’re doing?”  Cooper, who had been silently checking his weapons up until this point, spoke.

“Shepard is supposed to be a hero, and a special forces operative, based on Drake’s briefing.”  Noticing Quill’s blank look, he gave a very good incredulous stare, considering he had his helmet on.  “You didn’t read it?”

“Uh...maybe.”  Cooper and Gamora both shook their heads.  

“Shepard’s is apparently very good.  At least, according to Drake.  And the problem with that is we don’t know if Drake is telling the truth about anything.”  Quill considered this.  He did have a point.  

Shepard, Vir, and Master Chief squeezed through the narrow metal electrical duct and into a small, dimly lit concrete room in the basement of the compound.  They brushed plaster dust off themselves before looking up.  Shepard tapped his wrist and some sort of glowing orange hologram sprang to life, covering his let forearm.  The others leaned in and recognized it as Drake’s map of the compound.

“Right.  So we are here,” Shepard highlighted the small room.  “The item is here.”  He traced a path throughout the sun-levels to a large main room in the center of the basement.  “We need to stay low and follow this path.”  Shepard glanced up and pointed at Master Chief.  “You’re a super-soldier, so you’re taking point.”  The Chief nodded.

“Copy that.”  He unslung his weapon, dropped into a crouch, and proceeded forward, the two others following him.  They walked through the concrete and metal halls, weapons at the ready, searching for any sign of life.  Despite being over seven feet tall and clad in bulky armor, Master Chief moved with the deadly silence of a professional soldier.  Twice they were almost caught, but due to their superior training and skills, they melted into the shadows as enemy patrols passed by.  Through more hallways they made their way, hearing the laughter and occasionally fights of mercenaries.  The enemy here was no more alert than they were on the main level, allowing the three to pass through the labyrinthian passageways undetected.  They reached a large open area, where Master Chief suddenly gestured for a stop.  Peering past the Chief’s massive shoulder, Shepard could see why.  The open room was littered with mercenaries, lounging around with weapons still holstered.  By his estimate, there were about twenty of them.  Too many to take on without raising the alarm.  Shepard cursed quietly under his breath, then pressed a finger to his ear.

“Drake,” he hissed.  “We’re blocked.  There’s a group in our way.  We need a distraction.”    

“Distraction you say?”  The three could feel Drake’s smile over the audio.  “Give me twenty.”  

Outside the Compound

Drake slid up to the compound gate’s outside audio panel.  He slid a knife under a small plate at the base of the panel and slid a small rectangular device from his belt into a slot.  

“Let’s see here…” he muttered to himself.  “Are you stupid enough to connect the PA system to the main computer?  Yes...yes you are.”  He tapped several buttons on his wrist computer and took a deep breath.  

Inside the Compound

Shepard and Vir jumped as Drake’s voice crackled from the building’s PA system.  

“Attention assorted idiots.  I am Captain Thomas Drake.  You may have heard of me.  I am here, waiting just outside the front gate.  I am going to kill you all and take back the black box.  Come and get me.”  The message abruptly terminated, and cheery music started playing.  

“Private Perks is a funny little coger with a smile, a funny smile.  Five feet none he’s an artful little dodger with a smile, a funny smile.  Flush or broke he’ll have his little joke…”  Shepard, Vir, and even the superhuman Master Chief started at the loudspeaker as the music played.  

“Drake, what the hell are you doing?” asked Shepard.  

“Creating a distraction,” replied Drake, just as cheerfully as the song.  

“Telling the mercenaries to come and kill you and playing Smile, Smile, Smile is not a distraction,” stated Master Chief flatly.  

“You sure about that?  Look in front of you,” said Drake.  Sure enough, the mercenaries occupying the room had grabbed their weapons and were hustling up the stairs to the main level.  Shepard’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, then he sighed.  

“Fine, let’s go.”  As the last of the mercenaries trailed from the room, the three Scoundrels slipped by on their way to the item.  

Outside the Facility

Drake glanced at his wrist computer and nodded at a group of armsmen.  

“Four guards in the compound beyond the gate.  There, there, there, and there.”  He gestured at four spots beyond the wall.  The armsmen nodded and took positions near the gate.  “Overriding and opening the gate in three...two...one go!”  Drake pressed a button and the massive armored gate swung open.  The armsmen stepped forward and fired.  The four mercenary guards pitched forward, dead.  Drake nodded at the remaining Guardsmen and armsmen.  “Right. Through the gate and set up a firing position.  They’ll be coming, probably disorganized, from the main door.”  He pointed at a large armored set of double doors that led inside the main facility.  The soldiers nodded and readied their weapons.  Drake pressed another button on his wrist.  

On the other side of the Compound

“Cooper, Quill, this is Drake.  The mercenaries are going to attack our position while Shepard, Chief, and Vir steal the thing.  Get behind them.”  

“Copy that,” replied Cooper with a nod.  He looked at the large wall in front of them, then took a step back and jumped.  Thrusters on the back of his suit activated and propelled him onto the wall.  He turned his head to Quill and Gamora.  “You two coming?”  Quill scoffed.  

“I can do that.”  He pressed a small button on the top of his boots, and the heels lit up with the orange wash of jet boosters.  Without the grace of Cooper he landed wobbly on the top of the wall.  “See?  Easy.”  Gamora muttered “showoffs” under her breath and accepted Quill’s offered hand to boost her over the wall.  Cooper dropped into the interior compound without a sound.  

“Right.  This way.”  

On the Other Side of the Compound

The heavy armored doors opened and mercenaries, in various stages of preparedness, scrambled out, only to be met with the full firepower of one hundred and three well trained soldiers.  The Imperials’ lasguns spat crimson death that flickered through the muddy air to impact with chests, legs, arms, and heads, burning away flesh and vaporizing the internal organs of the unprotected.  The fire from the Apocalypse’s armsmen was no less lethal.  The boom hiss thump of plasma infused ammunition contrasted with the whining crack of lasguns as small blue and purple explosions blew apart the mercenaries.  Within seconds, the attacking mercenaries were dead.  

“Let’s go!” called Drake as he led his armsmen into the interior.  Cain nodded at the Guard.  

“Forward.  I’ll take up the rear.”  

In the Basement

The mercenaries vault, the storage place of the item Drake was contracted to retrieve, stood in silence over the barren concrete room.  Harsh yellow lights glared from the walls and seemed to be swallowed by the shadows in the corners.  Two guards, weapons held at the ready, stood in front of the vault.  The air split with two cracks.  The two guards fell, two holes blown through their heads.  Master Chief, weapon at the ready, entered the room, searching carefully for any other enemies.  There were none.  He nodded at his two companions.  

“Clear.”  He shouldered his rifle.  “Now how the hell do we get that door open?”  Shepard stepped up to the vault door.  A small, rectangular computer was built into the wall.  Shepard pressed his forearm, and once more the orange hologram appeared.  He tapped the hologram several more times, and the vault door sprang open.  

“Impressive,” noted Vir.  

“I gotta get me one of those,” muttered Master Chief.  They stepped through the circular entrance of the vault, and into the room beyond.  The room was...unimpressive.  It was cluttered with objects, weapons, and boxes of no discernable value.  Master Chief keyed his comm.  “Drake?  We’re in the vault.  What are we looking for?”   There was a whine then the boom of a plasma discharge, which culminated into an abrupt, high pitched scream.  Drake’s ragged breathing could be heard on the other end of the line.  

“What?  Sorry.  Uh...you’re looking for a black box, about half a meter by half a meter.  Should be somewhere pretty prominent.”  

“Here it is!” said Vir.  He held up a black box of the exact length and width.  

“Drake, we have it.”  There was a scream and the crackle of Imperial lasgun fire on the other end of the comm.  “What is going on up there?”  

“We’re fighting the mercenaries…” Boom!  Hiss!  Crack!  “...shit.  We appear to be winning at the moment.  Get up here and kill or capture anyone who gets in your way.”  

“Copy that.”  Master Chief looked at Shepard and Vir.  “Let’s move.”

Cooper, Quill, and Gamora advanced stealthily through the twisting passages of the mercenaries’ compound, weapons at the ready.  For some reason, there was absurdly cheerful music blasting through the PA system.  If Cooper had to guess, he would say that Thomas Drake most definitely had a hand in this.  He sighed to himself, shaking his head, then abruptly stopped and held out his hand.  Gamora instantly stopped and crouched, weapons at the ready.  Quill almost ran into him.  Ahead of the group were two guards, rifles out, looking more competent than any opposition they’d seen today.  Quill raised a gun, but Gamora pushed it down.

“Quiet.  If we go loud, they might have time to radio that we’re here.”  Quill nodded, magining to look mollified behind the red lenses of his helmet.  

“Right.  My bad.  What do we do?”  

“I got this,” replied Cooper.  Before either Quill or Gammora could say anything, Cooper tapped a device on his wrist.  Immediately, his form shimmered and distorted, turning translucent.  He took off running, and both watching pairs of eyes lost track of him.  Gammora thought she saw a faint blur of movement at the top of the hall, near the ceiling, but dismissed it as her eyes playing tricks.  And, just as they started wondering where Cooper had gone, he appeared just as suddenly and silently as he had appeared, this time directly behind the guards.  

Quietly and casually, he stepped behind the first guard, wrapped his arm around the guard’s throat in a chokehold, drew the guard’s sidearm from its holster, and unceremoniously shot both guards through the head.  Quick, brutal, efficient.  Cooper tossed the pistol aside and hefted his own rifle.  

“Let’s keep moving.”  Gamora stared at him.

“Impressive.  I need one of those things.  What are they called?”

“Invisibility Cloak or Pilot’s Cloak.  You can get them pretty easily from where I come from.  Or you could ask Drake.  I’m sure he stole a bunch of them.”  

Drake’s plasma gun spat a ball of molten death at an enemy mercenary.  It melted through the mercenary’s thin armor, blasted through his bones, and disintegrated his organs.  The mercenary only had time for a half scream, half whimper, before his chest was opened all the way through and he dropped to the ground, dead.  One of the Imperial Guardsmen whistled appreciatively.  

“A real plasma gun. ��Can’t believe you have one.”  Drake grinned beneath his helmet.

“Cost me a pretty penny.  But definitely worth it, I can assure you.”  His earpiece crackled to life.  “Hang on.”  

“Drake?  Are you behind the music?” asked Quill’s voice.

“Why yes, I am.  Do you approve of my selection?” Drake replied.

“Actually, I was wondering...do you take requests?”  

“Of course I do!  What is your request?”

“Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede,” replied Quill with no hesitation.  

“An excellent choice!  Give me a moment.”  Drake pressed another button on his wrist computer and spoke into it with an excellent approximation of a radio D.J.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that has been Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag and Smile, Smile, Smile, an old favorite from the First World War, written by George Henry Powell.  And next up, by listener request, is Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede!  If you would like to place a request, even if you’re on the opposing side, please, feel free to contact me.”  He cut the transmission.  One of the Valhallans turned to her sergeant.  

“This guy’s weird.”  

“Eh, could be worse.  We could be fighting tyranids.  Or necrons,” the sergeant interjected with a shudder.  

Master Chief turned to look at the nearest PA speaker.

“Well, this is definitely something new.”  He turned to his two companions.  “You two don’t seem very surprised by this.”

“Honestly, I am not surprised by anything at this point,” Shepard said with a shrug.  He turned to look at Vir.  “What about you?”

“Happens to me all the time.  What’s a battle without some good music?”  

Jack Cooper shook his head incredulously as the song piped throughout the compound.  

“I have seen a lot over my time in the Militia, but yet I have never been in a battle more bizarre.”  He sighed and fired a burst of shots at a mercenary.  “Oh, well.”  

The Imperial Guard and the Apocalypse’s armsmen, led by Cain and Drake, sliced their way through the enemies ranks like a knife through wet paper.  They stood no chance.  Anything not eliminated by lasguns or assault rifles was obliterated by Drake’s plasma gun.  Drake was leading the charge, cutting down everyone who opposed him with methodical precision.  Drake turned, the eye slits of his helmet winking cerulean blue.  

“Well, I think we’ve-”  He never had a chance to finish, as a particularly large mercenary barreled past a corner and tackled Drake.  Squeezed underneath the larger man, Drake could not get enough leverage to shove him off or hit him hard.  The two combatants rolled and grappled with each other, the armsmen and Guardsmen daring not to fire for fear of hitting Drake.  The large mercenary grimaced and tried to slip his hands under Drake’s helmet to try and throttle him to death.  Drake reached up and placed his left hand on the mercenary's chest.

“Overcharge!” he yelled to the air.  A sharp whine filled the air, then the crack of discharging electricity.  The mercenary flew backwards, twitched spasmodically for several seconds, then lied still.  Drake got up to his feet shakily.  “Well, that was a...shocking experience.”   Several of the soldiers groaned.  “C’mon.  Forward!”  They ran through the maze of dimly-lit hallways, slaughtering anyone they met, until they got to a large room filled with computers overlooking the passageways of the basement.  It looked to be a control room of some sorts, and it was absolutely packed with enemies.  They seemed to realize the superiority of the Scoundrel’s firepower, and so, instead of trying to fight them bullet to bullet, they charged.  

Cooper, Quill, and Gamora rounded the corner of the hallway at a run.  The screeched to a stop when they saw what was happening in the large room in front of them.  A massive group of enemy mercenaries were battling it out, hand to hand, with Drake and Cain’s forces.  

“Well, we can’t shoot for fear of hitting our own side, so…” Quill trailed off.

“So we take them from behind,” replied Cooper.  “You two know how to fight hand to hand?”  In response, Gamora drew a sword.

“Well, I guess that’s a yes,” said Cooper.  He looked over to see a heavily muscled woman bodily pick up and throw Drake through one of the glass panes overlooking the basement.  “Oh boy.  Better get in there.”  They charged.  

Vir, Shepard, and Master Chief emerged from the basement’s tunnels and into a pit-like room overlooked by glass panels.  Suddenly, one of the panels shattered and Drake flew through and landed on the concrete floor fifteen feet below.  He groaned and slowly got to his feet.

“Oh hey there.  Fancy meeting you here.”  Master Chief held out a hand to steady him.  

“Are you alright?”  Drake cracked his neck.

“Maybe.  Hopefully.  Doesn’t much matter.  Let's get up there.”  

“If you’re really O.K.”  

“Yep, I’m good.  What’s the fastest way up?”  Shepard pointed to a set of stairs, but before he could say anything, Master Chief took a running leap, grabbed the broken window’s ledge, and hauled himself up.

“Or...or that will work.”  Vir shrugged and made the same running jump at the same window.  With a whir of powerful prosthetics, he made it in much the same way Master Chief had.  Not to be outdone, Drake jumped for the same window.  He only made it halfway up the wall, but grips built into his forearms and greaves took over and he hauled himself up.  Shepard still stood at the bottom and shook his head.  

“Ok then.  I guess I’ll just take the stairs.”  

The vast majority of the wild melee was focused near the middle of the room.  There, the mercenaries desperately fought against the soldiers of the Imperial Guard.  The mercenaries had thought to take the enemy off balance by charging them, a tactic seldom used in an age of automatic and plasma weaponry, but had not counted on soldiers of other universes, used to fighting in different ways.  The Guardsmen had fixed bayonets, and now wielded the twenty inch blades with lethal efficiency.  However, despite the Guard doing most of the fighting, it was by far the Scoundrel captains who garnered the most attention.  Each fought with their own style, was a death-dealing whirlwind.  

Master Chief fought with a precision that only a genetically enhanced super-soldier could.  A strange, teardrop-shaped  plasma sword was held aloft in one hand, and he brought it down with murderous exactness.  Each stroke was backed by the massive strength of his seven foot frame, and gut through armor and bone as if it didn’t exist.  He was a one man killing machine; he was a SPARTAN super-warrior.  None stood in his way for long.  

Ciaphas Cain used the same practical and lethal fighting style as he did in his duel with the Drev.  His chainsword hummed and its teeth whirred as it cut through muscle and sinew, raising great gouts of blood into the air.  In his other hand he held a laspistol, which cracked off shots at any who were beyond the reach of the deadly teeth of his sword.  

Jack Cooper fought with grace and style.  He danced around the enemy, using the extra speed and mobility of his Pilot’s suit.  His combat knife slid between ribs and through throats, and shots from his sidearm rang out, blowing ragged holes through heads and torsos.  His legs lashed out in the form of powerful kicks, still with a Pilot's grace, and landed on kidneys and knees, knocking his opponents to the ground where he finished them at his leisure.  

Adam Vir fought with a spear, a most unusual weapon of choice.  Nevertheless, he was just as deadly as the rest.  The spear sand through the air, catching and impaling his foes.  It twirled in intricate patterns, and blocked and flicked aside incoming attacks as if they didn’t exist.  He lunged forward towards a panacing mercenary, twisting the spear at the last second so as not to get it stuck in the suction of flesh, then spun around to block an incoming attack.  

Thomas Drake fought dirty.  No trick was too low or underhanded.  His left hand crackled with electricity, stunning and killing any he punched.  A keen-bladed knife was in his right, and he stabbed groins, gouged eyes, and slit throats with impunity.  He bellowed reactive insults while he fought, calling in to question his opponent’s lineage and stature as he charged and hacked and stabbed.  

And Quill...well...he entered the room at a run, then promptly slipped on a puddle of blood and fell face first into the cold concrete floor.  

The Scoundrels gradually whittled down their enemies, one by one, until there was only a small group, fear in their eyes, huddling against the back wall.  The Scoundrels advanced, weapons drawn, and the mercenaries raised their own, prepared for one last defiant gesture.  Then, the air shimmered and distorted, and Kirk and a group of Enterprise crewmen, weapons drawn, appeared as if from nowhere.  

“Hands up,” said Kirk with probably more amusement than was really necessary.  Slowly, the mercenaries lowered their weapons and put them on the ground.  The Scoundrels looked at each other for a moment before Cooper broke the silence.

“Okay.  That was...underwhelming.”  

“What do we do with them?” asked Shepard, gesturing towards the prisoners.  

“Eh.  I say we just leave ‘em here,” said Drake with a shrug.  The others stared at him with incredulity.  

“Wait, wait...you were the one advocating orbital bombardment earlier!”  

“Well, we have the thing now.  No need to kill them, no need to do anything with them really.   We can just pack up and go.  Leave them here.”  The Scoundrels looked at each other and seemed to reach an agreement.  

“Fine.  Let’s go.”  Kirk looked over to Spock and spoke to him in an undertone.

“You know, this didn’t end that badly.  None of the redshirts died!”  As if on cue, one of the Enterprise’s crewmen, clad in black pants and a red shirt, fell over clutching his chest.  One of the Imperial Guardsmen knelt down to check on him. 

“He’s dead, sir!  I think a heart attack.”  Kirk shook his head.  

“You have got to be kidding me.”

After the mercenaries had been herded in the basement and the Scoundrels’ forces were trailing out of the compound, Cain pulled Drake aside.  

“Drake, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”  

“Of course.  What’s on your mind?”  Cain looked around to make sure no one was listening.  

“Those weapons.  The only way you could have gotten several of them was if you stole them from the Inquisition.”  

“And if I did?” replied Drake.  

“The Inquisition is not an organization you want to steal from.”  Cain loosened his chainsword in its scabbard.  Drake smiled.  

“Funny, actually.  I can.  You see, those weapons I found in a small hidden stash.  Apparently, a rogue and very dead Inquisitor named Filidarus Calzik had hidden them on the very edge of Imperial space.  No one would have ever gone for them, no Imperial would have ever found them.”

“I know of them, now that you’ve told me,” replied Cain, his hands still on his weapons.  Drake laughed, the exact same laugh as when he told the Scoundrels he knew their secrets aboard the Apocalypse.  

“Interestingly enough, weapons were not the only thing I found in that stash.  There was also a computer.  Which is why I know Calzik’s name.  And, on that computer, was...an incomplete manuscript.  An...autobiography.”  Drake smiled again.  “Your autobiography, my dear Cain.”  Cain turned a shade of chalk white.  “Now, consider, if you will, my dear Cain, the fascinating consequences if the contents of that autobiography were to be released to the wider Imperium.  So, yes, I’m quite sure I can get away with stealing from the Inquisition.  Because, no one will ever know anything is missing.  And if they do, they’ll never know it was me, because everyone who knows it was me will not be saying anything about it, now will they?”  With a final parting smile, Drake spun on his heel and strode away, leaving Cain in the semi-darkness of the compound’s hallway.  

That’s it.  Hope you like it.  As per always, feel free to contact me with any complaints, concerns, compliments, questions, requests, or if you just want something cleared up.    

[geminimoon14]

Sanders Sides Sci-fi Au

This is my own fanfiction about the Sides in a Star-Trek reminiscent setting. Logan is the only human on board and the others are aliens. This universe is a way for me to branch out from my fantasy style of writing practice scientific writings.

AO3 Link: Welcome Aboard the USS Sanders

Logan hated these sorts of missions. They were always meant to be interesting but no, this time the exploration mission involves hostile lifeforms. Of course as the Chief Science Officer he ought to know better but this was completely unprecedented.

The ship had been left adrift for who knows how long before Captain Roman Prince and his crew came across it. Scans had suggested no signs of life onboard. Roman’s Head of Security, Virgil Storm, had voted to leave it be in case the danger was still present. 

Dr. Logan Croft had offered to go on board, as the lead scientist, with a partner to investigate the wreckage and find the cause of abandonment. The ship’s medic Dr. Patton Hart offered to go with in case there were hidden survivors that needed treatment. Hesitantly, Roman granted permission for the excursion as long as they followed procedure.

They were quickly outfitted and on their way with a few extra suits for any survivors and a pair of Stun Pistols for any hostiles. It was a quick trip that seemed longer because Virgil kept checking in on them. Logan had Patton handle the calls while he focused on docking the ship. 

Patton was quick to reassure Virgil, “It’s just a quick trip and if anything happens one of us will call you. Promise!” Virgil played with his security badge as he asked, “You know what to do if something comes at you, right?” Logan sighed as he recited back, “‘Unholster the pistol, aim for the largest part of the threat, and pull the trigger’ we know, Virgil.” Patton gave him a disapproving look of ‘that- was-rude-and-you-need-to-fix-it’.

Logan sighed as he amended, “You were very thorough in your lessons and I am certainly grateful for that. However, the sooner we complete the excursion, the sooner we will return.” He heard Virgil take a breath and agreed, “Okay, just… be safe, okay?” Patton gave Logan a smile and answered, “Don’t worry, Virgil! We’ll be back before you know it!”

The ship was in complete disarray. Wires hung ominously overhead and the interior paneling was shredded. Debris littered the floor along with dark stains that neither man wanted to investigate. 

Logan pressed a button on the side of his helmet, activating the camera, and started recording his findings. He examined the walls and recorded, “It appears as though something or someone pulled the paneling here in order to access the wiring. Further examination seems to indicate the circuitry was removed via force. Atmosphere seems safe but we will keep our helmets on in case of foreign contaminants.”

While Logan continued his investigation, Patton hung back nervously. The medic shuddered from the chill that ran down his spine at the sight of drag marks leading away from them. His freckles took on a yellow shade as fear started to creep in. There was a loud creaking noise that echoed through the hall.

Both men froze as Logan slowly drew his pistol from its holster. Patton tried to hide behind the science officer as the latter slowly moved towards the noise. The noise did not repeat itself and Logan slowly holstered his weapon.

More cautiously than before, they moved further into the ship. The dark stains grew more frequent the further they got and all the lights were powered down except for the emergency evacuation lights. The flashing orange lights and the suits camera lights were all they had to guide their path.

Logan caught sight of a door out of the corner of his eye, the sign on it reading ‘Caution: Power Center’ and the handle smeared with the same dark matter they had seen earlier. Logan approached as he murmured, “More of the substance is on the door of the ship’s power supply. Further investigation required.” 

Patton flinched as Logan opened the door with a loud groan of heavy metal. The room was covered in something dark and almost fluid. Patton remained in the hall as Logan entered and remarked, “The walls and floor seem to be covered in the substance we saw earlier. Based on the consistency we can infer that it is not blood as previously believed.” 

He placed a hand against the wall and watched as it rippled at the touch. Logan raised a brow curiously as he commented, “Unknown substance seems reminiscent of species-” He was cut off as a tendril of the substance wrapped around his wrist in a more coherent form. Another tendril wrapped around his torso as he let out a shout.

Patton heard the shout and called out, “Logan?! Are you okay?!” There was a crash and a few grunts in answer. The medic rushed inside in time to see the substance creep upward and a familiar helmet crash to the floor. 

Patton looked up to see a mass of writhing tendrils wrapped around a struggling Logan. His helmet was off and a tentacle had wrapped itself around his mouth and throat while others held the scientist against it. Patton shrieked as he found the call button on his helmet and screamed, “Emergency! This is Dr. Patton Hart! Logan’s in danger!” 

The doctor turned towards the creature, drawing his stun pistol with freckles flashing red for a moment, and ordered, “Let him go or else!” Logan winced as the tentacles tightened their grip and a voice hissed, “Surrender or I crush him!” Patton glanced between his ally and the creature before slowly returning his weapon to its holster, freckles turning yellow once more.

It lowered itself from the ceiling, dragging Logan with it, as it inquired, “Doctor? You heal?” Patton slowly nodded as he replied, “Yes, do you need help?” The creature seemed to contemplate its answer as Virgil’s voice blared through his helmet’s speaker, “Patton! Are you alright?! Answer me!” 

The creature seemed to hear the call as it commanded, “Answer! Or I crush him.” Patton watched as Logan struggled to breathe for a moment before answering, “I’m here, Virgil. I’m okay for now.” The creature seemed satisfied as Virgil’s voice rang through, “We’re coming, okay. ETA of ten minutes. How’s Logan?” 

Tendrils loosened a little as the creature told Patton, “You help, I let go.” Logan gave Patton an unreadable look as he told Virgil, “Logan’s okay for now. We’ve encountered another life form. I’m going to help but I’m not sure what I need to do.” There was a beat of silence before Virgil’s voice shrieked, “What the hell?! Patton?!” 

The creature laughed before gesturing with a tendril and ordering, “Follow.” Patton obeyed as he relayed, “I’m following it.” There was a distinct groan of dismay as the alien opened a door and As the creature moved it slowly took on more humanoid features until it was a human figure with tentacles coming out of its back. 

Patton jumped as it cleared its throat and told the medic, “Much easier to talk like this. This is where my friend is, any tricks and I’ll enjoy tearing your friend apart.” Logan shot the humanoid a look and tried to say something through the tentacle.

It chuckled as it asked, “What was that?” The tendril around Logan’s mouth withdrew as the human answered, “That is highly unnecessary. Patton would have given assistance without the threat on my life.” The humanoid cackled before telling his captive, “Maybe but I’d rather not take chances. Never know when someone’s going to pluck out your eye so they can watch it regrow.”

Patton made a disgusted face as the creature led them to another door. The alien opened it with an echoing metal groan. The inside was dark, like where the alien had been hiding, and warm. 

Patton stepped inside with a hesitant look as he called out, “Hello? My name’s Dr. Patton Hart; I’m here to help.” There was a soft groan as a voice asked, “You’re not a doctor?” At the awkward pause, the creature slapped its forehead and muttered to itself, “Duh, Remus, you forgot to tell them.” Remus turned to the medic and explained, “His species tends to speak in lies so he wants to know if you’re actually a doctor.” 

Patton moved closer to the pained voice as he replied, “Yes, your friend asked for my help.” There was a soft hiss before the voice returned, “I won’t trust him then. I’m not to your right.” Patton took a moment to decipher the voice’s meaning before turning right and nearly stumbling over a body.

The injured being let out a loud moan of pain that had Patton apologizing profusely. Remus glared at the medic as his tentacles began constricting Logan. The human in question let out a choked noise as the mass of dark green tendrils tried to crush him. Patton whirled around his freckles shining a brilliant gold as he cried, “No, wait! It was an accident! Please stop!” 

The body next to him reached a scaled hand out and ordered, “Remus, don’t stop.” The tentacles stopped but maintained the same pressure until the other told him, “I don’t still need treatment, do kill the doctor’s friend.”

With trembling hands, Patton examined his patient. One half of them was covered in scales similar to a snake on earth with one golden eye while the other half appeared human. There was a wound on the human half, the burn around it indicated a blaster of some kind. 

Remembering where he kept the regeneration pod was nearly a problem for Patton until he recalled Virgil shoving it into Logan’s backpack after filling up Patton’s. The medic bit his lip nervously as he turned to Remus and told him, “I need to get Logan’s backpack. It has something I need.”

Remus gave the medic a strange look but maneuvered Logan until his backpack was in his hands. He handed it over to Patton and shifted so he could see what the medic was doing. 

The disc-shaped device was placed over the wound as Patton pressed a button in the middle. The pod emitted a bright blue glow as the wound slowly began to close. Remus watched, looking a little awed, as he questioned, “This’ll fix him?” 

Patton pulled out a device and waved it over the injured alien as he answered, “As far as I can tell, he’s healing. He’ll need rest and food but other than that the regeneration pod should repair most of the damage.” The medic glanced at the scientist still trapped as he asked, “What happened here anyway?”

His patient huffed out a bitter laugh as he informed the medic, “Wasn’t a bunch of asshole’s experimenting on people. Remus did not break out and utterly destroy them. They didn’t set off an explosion and when I got hurt he wanted to leave me.” Patton nodded in understanding as he dug through his backpack, pulled out a protein bar and offered it to him. A scaled hand took it eagerly and tore the packaging open.

Remus smiled as he inquired, “Feeling better, Jan-Jan?” Patton turned to his patient as he asked, “Is that your name?” The injury was nearly gone when the alien answered, “I’m not, Remus. And my actual name isn’t Janus.” Patton’s freckles lit up with a bright blue as he held out a hand and told him, “Nice to meet you, Janus! I’ve already told you but I’m Patton. And he’s Logan.” 

He gestured over to Remus and the scientist trapped in his tentacles. Janus slowly sat up as he ordered, “Don’t let go of him. We don’t still need them.” Remus pouted as he protested, “But we need to get out of here somehow! What if the doctor tries something?!” Janus narrowed his eyes as he repeated, “Don’t let go.” Remus scoffed but started to let go of the scientist.

The door burst open as a familiar voice shouted, “Freeze!” Remus’s tentacles tightened back up as Patton threw himself over Janus. Standing there was the familiar figure of Virgil, his four eyes trained on Remus with his legs flared defensively- Logan often compared them to the kind spiders on Earth had.

Behind him was Captain Roman, stun pistol at the ready, as he declared, “By order of the captain of the USS Sanders, stand down!” Remus hissed as he turned towards the newcomers before going quiet. 

Roman’s hands shook as Remus looked him over, trembling, and whispered, “Roman?” The captain flinched before he shook his head and kept his pistol aimed at Remus. His eyes softened for a moment before he spat, “You can’t trick me! Not with his face!” 

Remus raised his hands in surrender as he hissed, “What did they tell you?! That I was dead?! Hah!” Roman glared, hands still unsteady, as he ordered, “Release my science officer and medic before I must use force.” 

Patton looked up as Virgil directed him, “Step away, Pat. We’re leaving.” Patton’s freckles turned red as he stood up and retorted, “No, he’s my patient.” Virgil looked taken aback as he protested, “They took you and Logan hostage! Step away, Patton!” 

Patton’s freckles turned an even brighter shade of red as he answered, “No! Pointing weapons at them isn’t going to help.” He turned his attention to the stand off and ordered, “Everyone stand down!” Roman and Remus glanced at the medic for a moment but returned to their stalemate. 

Desperately, Patton exclaimed, “Remus, Janus still needs treatment! If you let go of Logan, I can convince the captain to help!” Remus seemed to consider for a moment but answered, “No can do! The second I let go, Roman’ll shoot, like when we played our games as kids.” Roman’s finger twitched, like he was waiting to fire, as he spat, “Enough with this farce, you fake!”

At the captain’s distress, Virgil also took aim at Remus. Logan shot Patton a look that only he would understand. Patton took a deep breath, slowly standing up, and removed his helmet. His freckles and eyes turned bright blue and his voice took on an echoey quality as he shouted, “Everyone calm down!”

A burst of energy pulsed through the room and the others went lax. Logan slipped from Remus’s grip and tumbled onto the floor bonelessly. Janus looked on in awe as the captain and Virgil dropped their pistols to the floor. Remus swayed a little but he stayed standing.

Patton let out a sigh as he gathered the weapons from the floor. He returned to Janus’s side with a sheepish grin as he apologised, “Sorry, I really don’t like doing that but Logan told me I didn’t have any other choice.” Janus looked the medic over, taking in the glowing freckles and eyes, as well as, the antennae hidden in his curls. The tips of the antennae matched the glow of his freckles and iris, previously hidden in his hair. 

Janus looked over at the group, their eyes glowing with the same blue light, and asked, “What the frell are you? What did you do?” Patton rubbed his neck nervously as he answered, “I’m an Empara, I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of us. We can sense and transmit emotions to other lifeforms; we’re empaths. I hate doing it though.”

The scaled being could only nod dumly as Patton slowly dimmed the glow in the others’ eyes. The medic pulled Janus onto his back, making sure that he was not likely to fall, and warned, “I’m going to let them go, are you ready?” Janus nodded and watched as the glow from his eyes and antennae vanished and the antennae buried themselves amongst the curls once more.

Roman and Virgil shook their heads as though clearing their thoughts while Remus seemed to awaken more slowly. Logan remained on the floor, still recovering from the effects, while Patton asked, “Are you all done fighting?” Virgil and Roman turned their glares on him as they shrieked, “What was that?!” 

Patton countered their glares with his own ‘paternal-disapproval-and-disappointment’ look that had become infamous on their ship. They both retracted their glares as Patton scolded, “Logan had to signal me to do it because no one was listening to reason and threatening each other! You know he doesn’t like it anymore than I do when I use it!” 

Remus seemed to finally power through the remaining dregs of calm and exclaimed, “What the frell was that?!” Roman glared at him until Patton asked, “Why are you so sure that Remus is lying?” Roman bit his lip and walked a few steps away, shaking with emotion.

He slammed his fist into the wall as he whispered, “Because my brother is dead. I killed him.” Virgil’s eyes went wide as Remus scoffed and remarked, “Hate to break it to you, but those scientists fed you a load of dren. They faked my death, they used some drug to slow my hearts- personally I would have gone with being ‘torn apart by Dracitches’ but anyways. It wasn’t your fault.”

Roman seemed torn between hoping that Remus was right and the pain of believing his brother dead. Remus seemed to catch on and muttered something that made Patton’s glow turn purple with embarrassment as he hissed, “Language! There’s no need for that kind of profanity!”

To everyone’s surprise, Roman started laughing. Virgil cautiously approached, placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder, and asked, “Are you okay, Ro?” Roman’s laughter mixed with tears as he returned the phrase. Patton turned on him with a scathing glare and scolded, “Roman! I thought you knew better!”

Remus started cackling as he remarked, “Didn’t think you’d remember!” Roman, ignoring Patton’s glare, reached out to his sibling and retorted, “As if I’d ever forget our code after the punishment our mother gave us.” Virgil gave Patton a confused look before throwing his arms in the air, exasperated, and crouched beside Logan. 

The human was laying there giggling as Virgil hoisted him into his arms. Logan laughed and wrapped his arms around his neck as he giggled, “You’re super strong. I wish I was strong but no.~” Virgil let out an annoyed groan as he carried the scientist over to Patton.

The Empara gave him an embarrassed look as he defended, “Logan told me to! He gave me the signal!” Virgil sighed, already accepting that their lead scientist was going to be high from the wave of emotion Patton unleashed. Janus watched the exchange from Patton’s back in confusion but saved his commentary for a more appropriate time as the human began rambling about how different Roman and Remus’s transformations were.

Virgil took his gun from Patton, who also returned Roman’s weapon, and gestured towards the door. They snatched Logan’s helmet on the way out, thankfully undamaged, and secured it. 

On their way to the USS Sanders, Logan seemed to come out of his daze. Patton, having offered to take Logan and Janus in their ship, immediately jumped as Logan groaned, “I swear the effects take longer to wear off each time.” Patton smiled as he exclaimed, “You’re back! How’re you feeling?” 

Logan sat straighter in his seat as he mumbled, “I will recover in time. There is some residual numbing effect from your ability.” Patton sighed as he shrugged and told him, “Sorry, I wish that it didn’t last so long on you.” Logan waved away the apology in a way that suggested that it was not the first time the human had fallen victim to Patton’s power.

Janus glanced up as he asked, “Why was I affected?” Patton smiled as he answered, “When an Empara uses that ability, we can aim it a little. I made sure to aim up so you wouldn’t get hit.” Pattom shook his head before he finished, “No telling what could have happened while you were still stabilizing.”

Janus nodded, following the explanation as best he could, and relaxed in his seat as their ship docked with the USS Sandes. Patton was quick to rush Janus to Medbay on a gurney, as well as a resistant Logan who insisted he was fine.

Patton stopped those objections with a look and Janus watched as the human’s protests died in his throat and he laid down on the floating gurney. Virgil snickered as he pushed Logan into the room and commented, “You should know better, Lo. When Pat’s in ‘Dad Mode’ you can’t stop him.”

Logan glared at him as Patton placed his hands on the human’s temples and warned, “Don’t tease Logan, Virgil. I’m trying to focus.” Virgil waved off the warning but stopped agitating the scientist. 

Janus held out his hand as an invitation to Virgil as he said, “We shouldn’t start over. I’m not Janus. I’m not a hybrid of two races. I know exactly where I hail from.” Virgil accepted the hand and shook it as he offered, “Virgil, Head of Security. I’m Araneus but I guess that’s pretty obvious, huh?” He gestured to his eyes and extra legs in demonstration.

Roman entered with Remus as he sighed, “The situation has been cleared up and these two are allowed to remain with us on our voyage.” Remus chuckled as he hovered over Logan and asked, “So you’re a human? What’s it like being a Deathworlder?” Roman, Virgil, and Patton flinched as Logan huffed, “Nothing so strange as what you are thinking I’m sure.”

Roman nudged his brother and muttered something in his native language. Remus’s grin grew as he stated, “Oh, yeah. Sorry about almost strangling you. Apparently it’s ‘extremely rude’ and ‘inappropriate’ or whatever.” 

Logan blinked before returning, “I accept your apology. Should you have any questions for me, I can be found in my office.” Patton scowled as he threatened, “Not for a few days or I can and will use the high-grade tranquilisers.” The human’s lips turned down as he crossed his arms and muttered, “I’m fine and have work.” 

Patton glared at Roman, who immediately assured them, “I won’t make him do any work until you give the okay, Patton!” Virgil snickered as Logan groaned, Janus barely covering his laughter with a cough as Remus cheered, “Guess that means I get to spend extra time with you, Deathworlder!” Logan covered his eyes with his arm and hissed, “I will warn you now, if you disturb my circadian rhythm for your questions there will be consequences.”

Before Remus could tease, Roman whispered, “Do not do it. He knows how to make you regret ‘corporeal existence’. That’s a quote from the last frelnik who interfered with his sleep.” Remus’s eyes grew wide as he turned to the human and agreed, “Whatever you want, Doctor! Treat me like a fascinating specimen!”

Roman made a disgusted face and shoved his brother out of Medbay, exclaiming, “Well, that’s disgusting! I’ll let you rest now, Lo! Do not disobey Patton’s orders!” Janus watched the exchange with wide eyes as Virgil shrugged and told him, “Welcome aboard the USS Sanders. Chaos is the norm.”

[beesatthedisco]

How does this even work...

Okay, so I’ve been on tumblr since before the first time they very slightly changed the shade of blue and I hope that in and of itself is enough to help y’all know... I’m ancient. (I’m 27, and will only rp with ppl 18+, sorry friendos)

Somehow, despite being on tumblr and despite having made about a million accounts for various things in my day, I’ve not made an RP account, and don’t really know how to get started. I guess I’m just gonna put down what I know about myself and what I’m looking for here and hope for the best, but I’d be open to any kind of protips from those of you who have been using tumblr to find rp for much longer.

RIP to your eyes ahead of time, this is a long post. If you want to skip to the part where I share my Original plots, pairings, and fandom cravings, please just scroll to the end and accept my humble apologies. (Highkey I copied this out of my google doc, don’t shoot me.)

I enjoy writing both original plots and fandom stuff. When RPing within a fandom setting, I'm open to playing as canons, as ocs, or any combination of both. I'm open to co-creating settings inspired but not based in fandoms, and open to playing AU or canon settings as well. When originals are involved, I prefer co-creating our worlds together, so we're both invested in the landscape that our characters inhabit. Speaking of characters- I'll play as any gender and in any pairing type- I hope that this is the same for you. I love writing a broad spectrum of characters to keep things interesting for myself and to practice viewing the world through different perspectives. I feel it's difficult to do this when being forced or pigeonholed into writing as a gender you DEMAND of me. However... I can be flexible, and if your ideas are interesting enough, I may just give you what you ask for anyways, haha. I'm perfectly open to playing multiple characters, whether it's a broad interactive cast of mains and background characters, a system of noninteracting or separate sets of doubles, triples, you name it, or whatever other configuration of multiple-character-playing you prefer.

I'm not too terribly concerned about post lengths and am open to writing with people who might be new to the RP scene. I'm pretty flexible about how much I'll write. A good rule of thumb for myself is that I tend to respond with more when I have more to work with. That doesn't always mean that there are more words on your post for me to respond to; instead, I mean that if your post has enough ideas, inspiration, and momentum, I can go buckwild with my posts. My comfort zone seems to be around 4-6 paragraphs per post, but I've been known to write either a lot more in particularly thrilling rps. If I'm writing a huge post- don't feel daunted or expected to match length. I love all sized posts!!! I'm just overly enthusiastic and get carried away sometimes. (This means you can also at any time tell me to chill out on how much I'm writing. ) When it comes to writing style, I only have a few hard expectations of you- I do not engage in roleplay featuring the 'would' style of writing. (For example: "She would pick up the rock and inspect it closely.") I don't exactly know why I dislike this tense so much, but it pulls me right out of the immersion of writing/reading and tends to entirely destroy my interest in the story. I'm sorry. Next, I care at least a little about punctuation and spellchecking. If you're roleplaying online, you have access to ways to make sure that you're not just submitting gibberish. If you need help finding those resources... feel free to ask!

I'm open to the idea of making profiles for our characters, but I'm okay without making them too. I'm also vaguely ambivalent to 'beautifying' our posts, should we do them somewhere that allows that sort of thing. I'm fine with any style of reference images, or with not using them at all. I can't promise I won't send you songs and images and memes that remind me of our story, though! Also- I'm super down for dice systems if we decide to go that route (and prefer dice systems if we include combat of any variety in our story.) I love romance, but it doesn't necessarily have to be the drive of our plot if that's not your style. My favorite genres to write in are science fiction, any variety of fantasy, horror, drama, historical settings, wild western settings, and mysteries.

Last but not least, I tend to like making friends with my writing partners. I prefer writing with people I actually get along with, so for me, the plotting phase is the most important. It helps me get to know your personality a bit more, and you mine, so we both know whether or not it's a good match to write long term! I'll write on most platforms, so let's discuss what makes the most sense for us. Finally, I generally only write with folks 18+, for the safety of everyone involved. Thanks for understanding.

Well, as I said, I've got a big ol list of ideas, if any of this strikes you as 'good writing friend' material, so send me a DM and I'll get back to you asap! Feel free to share your ideas too!!!

Original Ideas

- There's something dire down in the mines to the east of this old Western town. Folks keep goin' in to investigate, disappearin' for days at a time, then comin' back all different-like with the lights gone from their eyes. What could be happenin' out there, sheriff? (horror/western)

- A high-fantasy world's balance is shattered when the source of magic is destroyed. How will the people of this mystical land navigate a now mundane life, and how can they survive when so many magical devices go defunct and awry?

- A no-magic world is suddenly spun into chaos: an apocalyptic event leads to the sudden introduction of magic into a world that had previously never known it. In the post-apocalyptic (and mystically-charged) ashes of a world that once was, how do the survivors compete for resources and control?

- A star falls from the sky! They're rare, and it's dangerous to be one. Are you the star, hunted and lost? Or are you someone who finds a star?

- A lich (my character) is rumored to live in the castle at the foot of the mountains, only a mile or so from your town. It's said they're a true villain, the worst of the worst... but what is the truth?

-Arranged Marriages between physical embodiments of the seasons or planets

- There's something dire down in the mines to the east of this old Western town. Folks keep goin' in to investigate, disappearin' for days at a time, then comin' back all different-like with the lights gone from their eyes. What could be happenin' out there, sheriff? (horror/western)

-A sailor, pirate, or other seafarer keeps noticing the same shape in the waters near their ship. After a terrible storm, the ship wrecks… now, one’s a mermaid, one’s a sailor, and they’re both idiots trying to find their way back home.

-Disaster has struck! A grisly assassination attempt leads a bodyguard to quickly usher their liege to safety. Drama ensues!

-Stowaways, and the people who catch 'em!

- Androids and more androids! Or... androids and non-androids!

-In a dwindling-magic world, those who cling to the olde magicks and the old way of living struggle against the new capitalist society and its nonmagic technology. In one still-magickal neighborhood where our story takes place, shopkeepers fight against nonmagickal gentrification in an effort to keep their businesses, communities, and traditions alive.

- A wandering traveler gets caught in a storm and chances upon an abandoned home, castle, or manor.... oh no!

- A train hopping crust punk encounters the ghost of a fellow train-hopper who fell under the rails and died.

- A living person's computer, gaming device, or phone is inhabited by a flirty ghost!

- There's a friendly but sad ghost living in a living person's new home! (Can you tell I like ghosts?)

Original (and corny) pairing ideas

fairy or elf / vampire or other dark creature

vampire / human

god / mortal

demon / angel or other dark/light archetypical pairings

dragon / humanoid

naval captain / stowaway

mob boss / citizen

superhero / supervillain

serial killer / investigator

serial killer / citizen

Bounty hunter/outlaw

outlaw/sherriff

outlaw/outlaw

farmhand/outlaw

Current Fandom Interests/Cravings

Pokemon - preferably with ocs and in a custom setting ft. all the ‘mons/us playing as humans

Elder Scrolls - pls, i’m craving this almost more than anything, and have been for years

Red Dead Redemption - it is cowboy time now

Legend of Zelda - i have a couple of cute ideas for this!

Avatar/Legend of Korra

Labyrinth - please please please someone play jareth for me, ill give you my firstborn in exchange

Star Wars - currently a little burned out on playing as kylo for everyone, so please don’t ask me to be him dlfkjdslfj

Game of Thrones

Lord of the Rings

Night in the Woods

Brutal Legend - does anyone but me remember this??? Omfg lets rp in this setting PLS

The Dragon Prince

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 15

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 15 - Best Laid Plans

"You remember the plan?"

Sinead suppressed a deep sigh. "Yes, Mando, I remember the plan. I was the one who came up with it."

"There are a lot of people here."

"That makes blending in with the crowd easier. Uh, for me at least."

Mando grunted and moved away from a human woman who had leaned too far into his personal space. They had waited in line for the arena for what felt like hours, standing in the pale yet sharp Loovrian sun.

The plan depended on Mando finding a seat as close to the Undercroft as he could, while Sinead would wait on the upper levels until the fighting was underway. Mando hadn't been happy when she told him that he had to stay back yet again, but if she was caught, she could conceivably talk her way out of it. Mando, not so much. It would've been easier if she'd still had her servant robe, but that had been rendered unusable after her walk through the sewer.

"The kid didn't like us leaving him again," Sinead said.

"No."

"We should get a nanny droid or something."

"No droids," he barked out, startling the people around them.

Sinead gave him a look. "You never told me why you hate droids so much. There's gotta be a story there."

Mando was quiet for so long that she thought he'd never answer. "Not here. Later." He pointedly looked everywhere but her.

Smiling to herself, she stayed quiet as she didn't want to press her luck. It wasn't every day she had a chance of learning something new about her silent companion.

An excited hum went through the crowd as the line started moving.

"Wonder who's fighting tonight," Sinead said as they inched along.

Mando made a sound of disgust.

"You know, you really surprise me. I thought Mandalorians were all about the glory of battle."

"Not like this. There's no glory here. Only blood."

The entrance came into view with banners fluttering in the wind.

"One could argue that that's the case with all combat. We've both seen our fair share of action, and none of it's been pretty."

 "It's not the same. We fight for survival or to settle disputes, not for the entertainment of others. There honor in the act of battle, not meaningless death."

She watched him out of the corner of her eyes. There was a sort of terrifying beauty to him when he fought. "It doesn't get more meaningless than this." Images of Kyen alone deep beneath the arena threatened to topple her, and she forced herself to focus on a grubby Dug next in line.

Once they passed under the entrance, Mando leaned close to her. "Don't take any chances, okay? If anything feels off, you get out of there, and we'll find another way."

Sinead pretended to stretch and cast a quick look around; the guards seemed as inert as last time. "Our friends down below don't have that kind of time."

"That won't matter if you get caught."

"Fortunately, I don't plan on getting caught."

Mando made an exasperated noise, but whatever retort he planned was drowned out by a loud voice.

"Madame Farr!"

Sinead grabbed Mando's wrist before he could draw his blaster, trying to make the movement seem natural to the confused Rundu, who watched from the doorway to a less crowded corridor. Two guards flanked each side of the opening to keep the rabble out. Feyvik, his Wookiee bodyguard, pushed his way through the crowd, showing the Dug out of the way before motioning for them to follow.

"Please, keep it cool," she hissed to Mando as she let him go and followed Feyvik to where Rundu greeted them with open arms.

"Madame Farr, I thought it was you. And ..." His large eyes flickered to Mando. "Your Mandalorian. I am so glad to see that you've decided to give Strako a chance. I assume that's why you're here?"

Sinead shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Master Rundu. When we come to a decision, I promise you, you'll be the first to know."

A shadow fell across Rundu's face for a moment. "I see."

She felt Mando shift beside her, felt the anger and unease building. "We figured since we're already here, why not watch another fight. Indulge in all that Strako has to offer."

Rundu's wide mouth split in a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Indeed. Please, do me the honor and accompany me in my private box. I assure you that the view is unparalleled. You do not have to tolerate the-" he cast a disdainful look at the masses behind Sinead and Mando- "common folk."

"I ..." her brain spun in circles, trying to find a way out.

"Unless, of course, you have another appointment?"

"We'll be honored to," Sinead said, feeling Mando seethe beside her. "You gentlemen can go ahead, I have some private business I need to take care of before the fighting starts." She smiled as innocently as possible. "Will you point me in the direction of the refreshers, perhaps?"

Rundu's lips curled in disgust. "Ah, yes, I suppose that has to ... be dealt with. Down that way, you'll find the … ah, area. Feyvik can-" he stopped when his eyes fell on the Mandalorian, and for one moment, he seemed nervous. "I'm sure you can find us when you are done. Box number three, and if anyone stops you, just say you are my personal guest."

"Thank you, Master Rundu." As she passed Mando, she pressed the back of her hand against his, hoping that he could find some way to stall. Once she came back, they just had to improvise. She had to do this. It wasn't only Kyen's life at stake.

She went down the corridor that Rundu had so helpfully pointed out until she came to the first staircase packed tightly with the citizens of Strako come to see another bloodbath. There was no time to waste, so she rudely shoved people out of the way as she took the stairs two at a time.

Up in the nosebleeds, the spectators were of a very different caliber; mean-looking sentients were pressed together tightly, and a fight had already broken out between two Trandoshans. She waited for the guards to jump in to stop it before scurrying through to the servant stairs, the opening only covered with a ratty curtain.

The upper landings were deserted, but Sinead could hear noise further down as servants hurried up and down the steps carrying trays of food or bottles of liquor that had cost more than the Razor Crest.

She kept looking back over her shoulder, sure she would see Feyvik come barreling towards her.

No one followed her. When she made it to the top, she pressed a hand against the hidden door and cracked it open, making sure that the corridor on the other side was empty. The bright lights felt like needles in her eyes after the gloomy stairwell. She waited until two shadows appeared where the corridor bent and quickly pushed the door shut, listening to their footsteps as they passed her.

Every second that ticked by felt like a weight added to her shoulders. When she was done, she had to come up with a killer excuse for why she'd been gone for so long.

Once the guards' footsteps had faded, she pushed open the panel and slid onto the floor, waiting just a moment before hurrying down the corridor. She kept close to the wall while counting the identical doors under her breath until she reached the right one. Or she hoped this was the right one. Even if it was the repository, there was no guarantee that the records were in there. There was no guarantee there were any records at all, or that Kyen was on them.

At last, she found it, as gold and garish as all the others. With hands lightly shaking, she pressed the code into the keypad and waited, glancing down the corridor every other second. The moment seemed to go on until there was a faint click, and she took a deep breath before pushing the door open. This was the most unpredictable part of a very risky plan; if anyone were in there, she'd have to find an excuse, and fast.

No voice raised in alarm, no blasters aimed her way. The repository, if you could call it that, was empty.

The opposite wall was made entirely out of a single pane of glass, what she'd thought was mirrors down in the stands. Her stomach flipped when she saw that most of the arena was filling up quickly.

The rest of the room looked more like an armory; shelves displaying blasters, blades, flails, and strange devices lined the walls. A wicked sword made from a glowing metal cast strange lights across the floor.

There was a desk in one end and a plush chair. Behind it, a safe.

"Finally," she mumbled and skirted around the desk. The safe was set into the wall, a big clunky thing with a small keypad and three yellow lights above it.

She punched the code for the room. The safe beeped, and one of the lights turned red.

"Fuck!" She scrubbed her mouth with her hand.

Something caught her eye; on the shelf above, a razor-sharp metal disk with a hole in the middle was propped up on a velvet pillow. A number had been lasered into the metal.

She punched it in, ignoring how her hands shook, and the second light turned red.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She whirled around, repressing the urge to kick something. Maybe if someone was stupid enough to write down the access code for the room, then …

The desk was empty, the polished surface gleamed in the light. Sinead grabbed one of the four drawers and pulled. It didn't budge.

A snarl forced its way out as she sat down and grabbed the knob with both hands, pulling at it while using her legs as leverage, but the drawer remained stubbornly shut.

Doubt entered her mind like small seeds blooming into panic; this was a stupid plan. There was no guarantee that the records even existed. There was no time to examine any other place, there wasn't even time to check any other rooms. She should've gone with Mando and freed the slaves, waiting until the dust settled and then gone back to find the records.

The lock snapped with a loud crack, and she flew backward, scattering the contents of the drawer all over the floor.

She got to her knees and shifted through the useless knickknacks, her movement becoming more and more frantic.

Her hand closed around the knob for the next drawer, ready to take the entire desk apart if she had to when a small wire running along the empty place where the drawer used to sit caught her attention. She grabbed one end and pulled it out, examining the frayed ends where it had snapped.

Realization hit like a punch to the gut.

An alarm. And she'd just tripped it.

The door burst open, and two guards tumbled inside, waving their blasters wildly around the room. They noticed the desk.

"Who's there?" Shouted the taller one, keeping close to the door. The other guard hit the ground.

Sinead swore under her breath and tried making herself as small as possible. The only means of escape lay behind the guards. She still had her blaster strapped to her side, but if the alarm she'd tripped and the shouting guards hadn't already attracted all the attention, blasterfire definitely would do the trick.

"Don't shoot!" She called out, and a blaster bolt immediately shot over her. It pulverized a part of the wall behind her, collapsing a shelf and sending weapons raining down around her.

"You ... who are you? What are you doing here?" The tallest guard took another step closer to the table, his voice quivering. "Show yourself!"

She lifted both hands over the table, and another blaster bolt fizzed by.

"Easy!" She yelled, pressing her hands to her chest. "I'm coming out!"

Slowly, she got to her feet while keeping her hands in clear view of the guards, one of them still lying on the floor.

"Get up," the tall guard snapped, making the other guard scramble to his feet. "Who're you?"

Sinead wet her lips. "M-my name is Zan Forr. I work for Duiy Rundu."

"The Neimoidian?" The short guard said, earning an angry glare.

"Area's off-limits. What're you doing here?"

"I didn't know, I swear! Rundu sent me up here, told me to find some information for him. I didn't know I wasn't allowed!" She stared wide-eyed at the tallest guard who seemed to be the one calling the shots.

"How'd you get in here?"

"The door was open."

He scoffed. "No, it wasn't! I checked it myself."

"I swear, I'm telling the truth."

"Sure you are. Let's take you downstairs, see what the Master thinks about you." He gestured to the other guard. "Your blaster, throw it here. Keep your hands where I can see them."

Her hand started inching towards her blaster, eyes never leaving the two guards. There had to be a way out of here.

Suddenly, a voice exploded behind her. "WELCOME, CITIZENS OF LOOVRIA-"

The guards jumped. Sinead drew her blaster and shot the nearest guard, who screamed as he fell to the floor. She threw herself behind the desk, narrowly missing a volley of blasterfire. The desk shook with every hit, and the air filled with the smell of ozone and burning wood.

The big glass pane shattered, sending a shower of shards into the arena. She could hear distant screams.

Something metallic glinted under an old flail, and she shifted it aside, finding a slim dagger intricately woven with gold and green gemstones; the blade was as sharp as a Gungan's wit, but maybe that didn't matter.

The desk groaned and tipped to the side.

Staying crouched, she leaned out from the desk and threw the dagger. The guard's eyes followed the object as it sailed past him, and Sinead shot, hitting him in the shoulder. He crumbled to the floor, and she jumped over the ruined desk and ran outside, leaving him to moan in pain on the floor.

The corridor was empty, but it wouldn't be for long.

She reached the hidden door and yanked it open; behind it, a surprised guard nearly dropped his blaster.

"Wha-"

She crashed into him and sent him toppling down the stairs, narrowly avoiding getting dragged with him. It sounded like a rockslide, his armor the only thing saving him from a fractured skull. He came to a standstill on a small landing where he lay unmoving as Sinead rushed past him.

Guards started pouring out on the landing above her, and a blaster bolt fizzed over her head, destroying a tablet hanging on the wall. A metal fragment sliced her upper arm, but adrenaline dulled the pain.

At last, she made it to the ground level and shot under the arch. She turned and slammed directly into what felt like a brick wall. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders to steady her. She looked up and saw Mando.

"Sinead, what the-"

"Run!" She gasped out just as the first guard made it to the ground.

Mando whirled her out of the way of a blaster bolt, and she used the momentum to grab his wrist and pull him down the corridor. The nearest exit was close.

Two guards jumped out from a doorway, and Mando sped up, smashing into one of them like a mudhorn, who knocked into the other guard and toppling them both.

The entrance was visible behind a line of guards, who stood like an impenetrable wall between them and freedom. They were forced to turn, but guards blocked the way back.

One of the guards shot first, and Mando whirled out of the way, pulling his blaster in a fluid motion.

A hand closed around Sinead's arm, and she kicked back, hearing a small whimper as the guard let go.

She dodged another hand and skirted around her attacker.

It seemed like the flow of guards were never-ending. Whenever one fell, two took their place.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet disappeared. A strong smell of petrichor filled her nose, mouth, lungs. A great force contorted her body, lifting her into the air.

A hush went through the crowd, and the guards fell away.

Mando turned.

The ring of onlookers parted silently, and the Master stepped into view.

Even by Pau'an standards, he looked ancient; his gaunt body, hidden beneath a black robe that shimmered with red, was stooped, and his hollow cheeks made him look skeleton-like. He walked with confidence, his staff lifted into the air and aimed directly at Sinead. Yellow light writhed around the tip.

A force pike.

"What do we have here?" His red eyes scanned the carnage.

Mando moved, and a dozen blasters were trained on him.

The Master lifted a hand. "Stand down. There has already been enough senseless death."

Reluctantly, the blasters were lowered.

"I am terribly sorry about this," the Master said, "but my guards tend to react … harshly when someone breaks into my quarters. I'm sure you understand."

Mando's shoulders heaved with every breath.

"I would like to let go of your friend, but first, you have to surrender your blaster. For your own safety, as well as ours."

Mando looked at Sinead. His hand clenched around the blaster.

"Nn-"

Pain exploded along her spine, behind her eyes.

Mando's blaster hit the ground with a clatter, and the pain faded away. A guard broke rank and snatched the weapon up from the floor before retreating to safety.

"Thank you."

Sinead was lowered onto the ground, and as soon as the strange force disappeared, her knees buckled.

Mando caught her before she hit the ground and lifted her to her feet. She felt like she just might keep going, floating gently up in the air. He held a strong arm around her shoulders.

"Now, we can have a civilized discussion." The Master bared his teeth in a smile. "Ovinik?"

"Yes, Master?" A guard stepped out of the crowd.

"Please guide these good people back to the stands and notify the Ringmaster that the competition will recommence shortly."

"Yes, Master."

"As for you two," he turned his attention to Mando and Sinead. "I would like to talk with you somewhere more private if you please. I assume bindings won't be necessary. We're all civilized here, after all."

 "What do you want with us?" Mando said.

"I have … questions. Mainly about how you managed to get so far." He studied them with his red, runny eyes. "If you're worried about your safety, I give you my word you'll come by no injuries under my watch. My staff, however, might not be so generous. You did kill quite a few of their colleagues."

Mando's grip on her tightened.

"But come. Follow me."

They were escorted through the arena, flanked by what looked like all the guards in the building. Mando half carried, half dragged her through the corridors and up the stairs, his grip on her never faltering. She wanted to lean into him.

The Master led the way, the force pike tapping on the floor with every step. Whenever someone stuck their head out through the opening to watch them go by, a guard would roughly shove them back in.

They ended up in a room on the upper level, furnished in gold and rubies. The big window showed the arena below. As before, shelves and racks filled with weapons adorned the walls, but these were laid out on small velvet pillows, some encased in protective glass.

The Master sat on a plush lounge and regarded them with a mild look.

Life had started to seep back into Sinead's legs, bringing with it an intense prickling that was almost worse than the pain. She kept hanging onto Mando. If anything happened, she had an ace up her sleeve.

"Well?" The Master crossed his long legs.

Silence.

He smiled. "I see I have to be a bit more specific. Let's start with the most pressing one: how did you get into my arena?"

Sinead bit the inside of her cheek before saying, "we were invited."

"Oh! By whom?"

"Duiy Rundu."

For the first time, the Master looked surprised. "Indeed. How curious. Ked?"

A human stepped out of the ring of guards surrounding them. "Yes, Master?"

"Go fetch Duiy and put him in the green lounge. I'll deal with him later."

The guard left, and the Master returned his focus on Mando and Sinead. He pressed a long grey finger to his lips. "I suppose I have gotten complacent in my old days. I let my subordinates have too much freedom."

Sinead clenched her jaw so hard her teeth creaked. He thought he gave them too much freedom when slaves were wasting away under his arena?

"Next question: what was important enough to risk your life? That room hasn't been used for anything other than storage for a long time. I doubt you'd find anything useful in there."

Of course. Sinead bit her tongue hard enough to break the skin.

"No answer? As you wish. Grab them."

Rough hands grabbed Sinead and tore her away from Mando, who was buried under a mountain of guards, trying to hold him down. He snarled and fought but was soon forced to his knees.

"Let go of me you-"The press of a cold blaster barrel made the words die on her lips.

"Certainly," the Master drawled. "Once you tell me why you invaded my arena."

Mando's shoulders shook as he tried to throw the guards off him.

There was an ominous click behind Sinead's ear. Beads of sweat ran down her temple.

"What will it be, Mandalorian?"

She looked at Mando and felt their eyes meet through the helmet, could feel his anger and fear.

"There are rumors that a slave went through. We're looking for him," Mando ground out.

"Ah!" The Master folded his hands in front of him. "The truth finally comes out." He waved a hand, and the blaster fell away. "You're a bounty hunter, I take it?"

"Yes."

"As your kind are wont to be. Shame so few are left."

An imperceptible shudder went through Mando.

"What I don't understand is why you wouldn't simply ask? I would've gladly helped in any way I can. The … cruel practice has been outlawed on Loovria for quite some time as you probably know, but we still keep quite extensive records." He steepled his hands together. "I would like to propose a deal: since your companion so rudely interrupted the fight, it'd only be fair if you were to step in the ring. It would be interesting to see if you measure up to the Mandalorians of yore."

"Absolutely not!" Sinead strained against the hands that held her back.

The Master looked down at her with a small smile. "No? I can't see why you would object. If you win, which we'll assume that you will, you'd be free to peruse the records for whomever you're looking for, after which you'll leave Loovria for good. If, however, you decline the offer, I'll have no choice but to find a suitable punishment, and Loovria takes trespassing very seriously. Even if you were invited, your companion was certainly not welcome to wander into restricted areas and wreaking many thousand credits worth of damage. And that's not even mentioning the murders."

"Go to hell!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

The Master smiled and got up, holding out a hand to the nearest guard who handed him his force pike with a look of reverence. The light caught the chrome as the Master held it out for all to see.

"The force pike. As you have probably already noticed, I have amassed a large assortment of weapons, gathered over many decades. Out of all the gems in my collection, nothing compares to the force pike." He started towards them, his robe rustling with every movement. "So simple, yet versatile. The origin has been lost to time I'm afraid, but the force pike will always endure."

He stopped in front of Sinead, and she craned her neck to look him in the eyes. Her breaths came out in short bursts.

"On one end-"the vibro-edged tip hovered over her collarbone- "we have a vibro-blade strong enough to cut through durasteel." He looked at Mando struggling on the ground. "It wouldn't do much against your armor, sure, but not everyone is fortunate enough to have that kind of protection."

Sinead shuddered. The Master seemed to grow larger until he was all she could see.

He sighed. "Remind me, which side is a human's heart on again?"

With a roar, Mando's arm came free and he struck the nearest guard before trying to get to his feet. A Devaronian leaped and forced Mando back onto the ground.

"If your goal is to control, not kill, we have the force module." The Master swirled the pike in the air until the module pointed at Sinead. "It can deliver electrical shocks. Even on the lowest level, the pain is excruciating, I've been told." The tip glowed like an ember before it was enveloped in yellow light. Jabbing heat danced across Sinead's face. "It can cause paralysis or even death. But without all the messy stuff."

She tried to lean away, but the guards' iron grip wouldn't budge. The smell of petrichor filled her lungs, choking her.

"So, Mandalorian. What is your answer?"

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[sir-a-nonny-mouse]

All The King’s Horses

Summary: After the portal Catra is sent to Beast Island to bring back Entrapta and Scorpia.

Notes: This story exists because what I really wanted to write was a post-redemption Catradora fic that honored the events of season 3. But in order to that I had to figure out how Catra could be redeemed after her downward spiral. 25,000+ words later…

Trigger warnings for panic attacks, giant spiders, child abuse/neglect

If you would rather read this story of AO3 it can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072848/chapters/50132171

Catra dreamed.

Adora stands over her as she clings to the wall of the cliff. The light of the collapsing world streams up around her lifting Adora’s ponytail up into the air.

“Grab my hand,” Adora shouts, stretching down toward where Catra’s claws are starting to lose purchase. “I can still fix this! I can still save you!”

“Don’t you get it?” Catra shouts back. The roar of the ground falling apart around them is getting louder. “I don’t care! I won’t let you win. I’d rather die than let that happen!”

Adora’s face shifts. The soft concern in her eyes is replaced with the cold blue of She-ra’s gaze.

“No Catra, you don’t get it.” Her voice is deeper suddenly. There is a familiar lilting quality Catra couldn’t quite place. She isn’t shouting anymore but somehow Catra can hear every syllable. “I always win in the end. And you will always fall!”

She-ra’s lunges forward and rips Catra’s hand from the protruding rock. Catra is thrown backward into the stream of nothingness. It burns. She tries to scream but there is no air in her lungs.

***

Catra sat up in bed with a gasp. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her heart pounded so loudly in her chest it almost sounded like someone banging on the door to her room.

Wait. No. That was someone pounding on the door to her room.

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Come in,” she shouted, louder than she meant to but it covered the quiver in her voice.

“Uh…hi Catra. It’s me.” Kyle poked his head through the door. “Um…Hordak wants to see you. Right now. That’s all gottago.” He squeaked and slammed the door shut again.

Catra swallowed against nausea rising in her throat and got out of bed.

***

It had only been a week since the portal. Things in the Fright Zone had returned to some sort of normalcy; the soldiers continued their battle maneuvers and the cadets continued their training simulations. Hordak had been locked inside his inner chambers with only his demon assistants, but that wasn’t so different than before the portal. Catra had no idea what he was working on—a new portal, a new strategy for defeating She-ra and the princesses—but that was hardly a change either.

It was all disturbingly normal aside from the fact that Catra had no idea what her status was anymore. She wasn’t re-imprisoned but was she back to force captain status? Second in command? What was her mission? The lack of purpose made her skin itch. Given all her years of ducking responsibility it would have been hilarious if it weren’t so stressful. If Adora could see her now she would….

No. Adora wouldn’t care. Adora didn’t matter anymore.

Catra held her head up high as she approached Hordak’s throne. She tried to ignore the echoes of her trial as she passed the rows of soldiers lining the chamber. She spared a glance around for Scorpia but didn’t see her familiar shock of white hair anywhere in the crowd. No purple either. Not that Catra was expecting to see Entrapta….

“Catra,” said Hordak in his low gravelly voice. He was seated on his throne in his full regalia without a hair out of place. No sign of the staggering wreck Catra had seen in the chamber the day of the portal. Catra felt the familiar staccato of her heartbeat and her mouth went dry. Still, she was nothing if not good at bravado. She clenched her teeth and stepped forward.

“Lord Hordak,” she said, pleased when the words came out with confidence. “I heard you wished to speak to me. I wasn’t expecting all this ceremony.”

“It has come to my attention that the Princess Entrapta has been spotted on a transport ship to Beast Island.”

Catra could feel sweat dripping down the back of her suit. She swallowed.

“That is unexpected, my Lord. Was she apprehended on her way out of the Fright Zone?”

Hordak grunted.

“That remains to be seen. It seems your friend and fellow force captain Scorpia was seen with her.”

Catra’s heart sped up. She wondered idly what would happen if she just passed out in Hordak’s throne room in front of all these people. Probably nothing good.

“Strange,” said Catra. “Perhaps even after all this time some of her Princess tendencies have gotten the better of her.”

Hordak crossed his arms over his chest.

“An interesting theory. And yet unsatisfying given that Scorpia’s greatest allegiance appears to have been to you previously. After all, she did risk almost certain death in the Crimson Waste to accompany you.”

Catra snorted. “Perhaps she knew I wasn’t so easy to kill as you expected. I can’t imagine the same holds true for Entrapa on Beast Island.”

“I did not sentence Entrapta to die. Nor did I sanction her or Scorpia’s transfer to Beast Island.”

Catra shrugged. “Seems like it’s been taken care of for you.”

“I DID NOT SANCTION IT!” Hordak roared standing suddenly from his seat. Catra couldn’t fight her instinct to shrink backwards.

“You will go to Beast Island and retrieve them,” Hordak continued. “You have proven yourself resourceful in places with few resources in the past. And you have yet to prove your loyalty to me since returning from the Waste.”

“Prove my loyalty!” Catra forced herself to stand up straight again. “You sent me to die and I brought you the key to your most precious project! How much more loyal can I get?”

Hordak regarded her with emotionless red eyes. “You pursued your own private vendetta and nearly destroyed us all in the process. If you are truly loyal you will bring the Princesses Entrapta back for a proper trial and punishment. Scorpia as well if you are able. If not; well then Beast Island is probably a fitting punishment and I likely should have sent you there in the first place.”

He gestured to one of the soldiers, who stepped forward to grasp Catra’s arm.

“You’re sentencing me to death,” she shouted, jerking her. “For what? For helping you achieve your goal. So what I had my own agenda!? You need me.”

“Indeed. I need you to bring back the Princess Entrapta. She may well be a traitor, but she will be far more useful in my dungeons than rotting on that infernal island. That will be all now, take her away.”

With that Hordak turned and exited the throne room.

Catra whirled around only to realize she was surrounded by soldiers. She searched frantically over their shoulders for her team. For a moment she thought she caught sight of Lonnie’s braids, but it immediately was lost from her view. She tried to run but several hands were holding her arms and (horrifyingly) someone had grasped onto her tail. She heard the crackled of a stun baton and then everything went dark.

***

The boat creaked and moaned as metal slats shifted against each.

“This is fascinating,” Entrapta murmured as she peered through the porthole. “The friction between air molecules and water molecules propagates a wave function that transfers energy for miles! And the variation, there must be some sort of relation to the lunar cycles but with three moons the equation is going to be exceedingly complex. Plus, we can’t discount the possibility of interaction with the First One’s tech that has surely been buried along the route. How have I never thought to study the ocean before?”

“Oh, I don’t know about studying the ocean, but I can tell you nothing quite beats the fresh salt air,” Scorpia replied, leaning her head back against the bulkhead. “I mean, when they let you up to appreciate it. This cabin is not my favorite way to travel, no siree.” She chuckled to herself and then winced when another prisoner chose that moment to vomit into a bucket.

“Once we get to our destination, I will need to take some measurements,” Entrapta said. “I still have a few bits of equipment, but do I wish I still had access to Hordak’s lab.”

“Uh…Entrapta, you do know that we are headed to an island that no one has ever come back from, right? We are going to have to put all of our resources into survival.”

“I know! Why don’t people every come back thought; there has to be an explanation.”

“Because they get eaten by the beasts…on Beast Island?”

“Seems statistically unlikely; at least a few souls would have escaped after so many years.” Entrapta turned around and peered at Scorpia through the safety goggles pulled down of her eyes. “I have some theories, but I need to run a few more tests.”

“Uh…okay, Entrapta.” Scorpia stared up at the bulkhead ceiling. “But I don’t think we should discount the beasts either.”

“Never fear, friend,” Entrapta exclaimed, resuming her position staring out the porthole. “Like any good scientist, I have planned ahead.” She used one of her hair tendrils to thrust a small manual in Scorpia’s direction.

Scorpia took the book. “Uh…thank you?” The title read “A Princess Survival Guide to Beast Island.” Scorpia thumbed through it. “Well this seems weirdly perfectly suited to our current predicament.”

“The right tool for the right job,” declared Entrapta. Scorpia couldn’t really argue with that.

***

Catra woke up on a ship, which was just adding insult to injury, really.

A hawk-faced Force Captain glared down at her. Catra barely remembered her from one of the few Force Captain meetings she had bothered to attend. She thought her name was possibly Leona.

“Good you’re awake. Take this.” She thrust a small device at Catra who groaned as she sat up to accept it. “This only works once. You press it when you have the Princess and we will come and pick you up from the North Shore. Don’t bother pushing the button before you have Entrapta; we’re under strict orders to leave you behind if we don’t see her with you. No get-out-of-jail-free card just for managing to survive a few days out there.”

Catra stared at the device. It was a small green rectangle with a smooth red button in the center and a blinking yellow light in the top right-hand corner. She grunted.

“He’s just throwing me out there by myself?” she asked. “I can’t even bring my companions from the Waste?”

The Force Captain likely named Leona made a trilling noise that Catra interpreted as a laugh.

“They asked around, kitty. I think the exact quote was, ‘Heck no; I’ve seen how she treats her friends.’”

Catra felt her face color.

Leona leaned her head down close to Catra, beak inches from her nose. “You got a shitty deal for sure little fighter, but you can hardly say you didn’t ask for it. You’ve been playing fast and loose with your attitude. I don’t know what caused all your little friends to abandon you, but if it’s anything like the lip you gave Hordak before he sent you off to the Wastes I’m not surprised you’re all alone.” She snorted. “Bet you thought you’d lost everything then, but there’s always farther to fall.”

Catra turned her head away and pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Whatever. Just let me know when we get there.”

The captain trilled again. “Oh, trust me, you will know. And be grateful. The prisoners don’t get supplies.” With that she dropped a small bag next to Catra and walked away

Catra sank back against the side of the ship and tried to ignore the knowledge that she was surrounded by water on all sides.

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew she was being grabbed by the shoulders and hauled to her feet. A stun baton crackled behind her.

“We’re here. Move,” came the tinny command from within the soldier’s helmet.

Catra hissed but followed instructions as she was escorted of the ship and onto a small rowboat that made her stomach churn. She sulked as sea water splashed up, cold against her arms. Once the boat hit the shore, they tried to grab her by the shoulders but Catra hissed again and jerked her arm out of the soldier’s grasp. She snatched the pack from a different soldier’s hands and leapt over the side. She winced as her feet hit the mushy sand at bottom of the shallows and marched toward the shore.

***

“Okay so according to this the first thing we should do is find fresh water,” muttered Scorpia as she flipped through manual. “I think they have diagram here…oh! Oh whoopsies.” One of her claws caught the edge of the page tearing it slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry…I think I can fix that. Do you have any tape?”

“This place is maaaagical.”

“Uh, what?” Scorpia turned to see Entrapta on her hands and knees with her nose inches from the coarse sand that covered the beach of Beast Island.

“These tiny rocks,” muttered Entrapta, holding out some sort of small cylindrical device next to her face. It made a strange whining noise.

“You mean the sand?”

“Sand? This is no ordinary sand!” She looked up and beamed at Scorpia. “These are tiny fragments of data crystals! I mean…not all of them. Some of them. Mixed in with the sand. And you know what that means?”

Scorpia tried to think. “Lots of tiny data?”

“IT MEANS THERE MUST BE A MASSIVE DATA CRYSTAL SOMEWHERE ON THIS ISLAND!” Entrapta shouted. She jumped to her feet. “And I’m going to find it. Oh, Hordak will be so excited when I tell him about this!”

“Hordak? I…wait, Entrapta!” Scorpia shouted at the purple-haired princess as she scampered off toward the shoreline. “Oh no.” She rubbed one claw across her forehead and sighed. “I hope this massive data crystal is near some fresh water at least,” she muttered as she gave chase.

***

Catra trudged up the beach to the tree line and sat on rock to take inventory. In addition to the tracker her supply bag contained two canteens of water and a handful of ration bars. Enough for a few days of survival but she was going to need to find an alternate source of fresh water and food soon if she wanted to make it through the week.

Or you could just find Entrapta and Scorpia and click your get-home button.

Catra stared at the blinking remote at the bottom of the bag and frowned. She shoved the supplies back in and threw it over her shoulder.

The moons were starting to dip below the horizon and in the dimming light the orange sand seemed to almost glow. Staying near beach was probably her safest bet for now. Catra wasn’t certain where the beast (beasts?) of Beast Island hung out, but the dense foliage past the edge of the jungle did not look inviting. She could get her bearings tonight and trek deeper in search of a means of survival once the light was better.

She scouted around the edge of the tree line collecting branches and set to work constructing a lean-to a few feet from the edge of the sand line. She cleared a small area for a camping fire, but when she thought about lighting it she imagined some burly creature with fangs emerging from the undergrowth at the smell of smoke, so she left the pile of sticks and leaves to sit.

She stared at her not fire as the light faded from the sky fully. The low hum of insects seemed to get louder as darkness fell. She could still see reasonably, thanks to whatever genetic fluke had made her part cat, but the color faded to nothing but greys. She shivered despite the humidity.

Catra glanced back at her lean to and then jumped back onto all fours as she watched a multilegged creature scurry across the floor and disappear under a log.

Heart pounding, Catra scanned the forest floor, suddenly aware of the not deafening white noise of jungle.

“Oh no,” she muttered and glanced around. Her eyes caught site of a wide tree branch hanging about ten feet above the underbrush.

“Screw this.” She scurred up the side of the tree to the branch and crouched there, studying the jungle around her. When nothing moved for several long minutes, she lay down on the branch and tried to settle herself. It wasn’t comfortable per-say, but at least she felt she was further away from things that skittered. Catra shuddered and closed her eyes.

She didn’t quite fall asleep, but after a few hours the tension in her body seemed to fade back to the low level that lived in her shoulders chronically. Slowly, very slowly, she felt her mind start to drift.

Her eyes sprang open at a soft clicking noise next to her. Immediately she was crouched on all fours, peering through the darkness. There was a small rustling in the bushes near the base of an adjacent tree.

Catra held perfectly still aside from the twitch of the tip of her tail. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

A moment later a small furry creature with pointed ears and a large fluffy tail nearly the same size as its body scampered across the camping area making a loud chittering noise. Catra let out her breath.

Almost as soon as her heartbeat started to slow the clicking noise returned, louder this time and directly behind her. Catra whirled around on the branch and almost fell in her attempt to scamper backwards as she found herself facing a large creature with a bulbous body and eight long, pointed legs hanging from a higher branch of the tree above her.

Catra hissed and extended her claws. She had half a second to consider the fact that these creatures looked remarkably like the security system of the Crystal Cavern before the spider fired webs toward her face.

Catra grinned as she swiped the web away with her claws. She leapt toward the creature, landing on its head and immediately clawing for one of the shiny red eyes. She expected to encounter glass or metal as her hand came down and was slightly horrified when her fingers sank into soft, wet tissue.

“Eugh!” She ripped her hand back staring at it in horror.

The pause was a moment too long. One of the many legs of the creature plucked her off its back and threw her off the tree and onto the forest floor. Catra managed to twist and land on her hands and feet but when she whirled around to face her opponent the only thing she could see were dripping fangs bearing down on her. She turned to run but felt a prick to the back of her right calf before she could take a step.

Immediately icy-hot pain spread out from the puncture. Catra screamed and tried to scramble away but her leg would not cooperate. She fell onto her back facing the spider who was spitting out more webs. Catra was immediately covered head to toe. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her head swam as she tried desperate to gasp for air.

Not this way, she thought as she started to lose consciousness. It can’t end like this.

Just before she passed out, she heard a loud crash and a man’s voice shouting but she couldn’t make out the words.

***

Catra dreamed.

“Don’t you get it, Adora? I never needed you to save me.” Catra and She-ra circle each other on the edge of the cliff amidst the roar of the dying alternate universe. “You leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me!”

She dodges She-ra’s sword once, and again. She can see the frustration and anger in She-ra’s eyes—hints of Adora bleeding through—and it makes her feel powerful. She giggles as she ducks another swing of the sword and runs forward, shoving a shoulder into She Ra’s solar plexus and sending her over backwards. Catra kneels over She Ra and hisses down at her. “You only ever held me back! I’m stronger than anyone ever knew.”

She-ra’s eyes narrow and the world flips. Suddenly it’s Catra on her back with She-ra towering over her, sword in hand.

“Strong?” She-ra laughs and her face changes to something reminiscent of the corrupted princess from the frozen north. There is no Adora to be found in the alien expression and Catra feels a chill of fear run through her. “That’s funny, because I think you just tried to destroy the universe as an elaborate hissy fit for me leaving you.” She-ra leans in close and whispers in Catra’s hear. “When did you get so weak?”

She-r rears back and hold up the sword ready to strike.

“You wouldn’t have the guts,” Catra says. She can remember another time, another place where she said those words with confidence. Now she can hear the tremor in her voice.

“Wouldn’t I?”

Fear grips her. Before she can stop herself Catra shouts, “Adora, please!”

“Adora is dead,” She-ra shouts. “You killed her.”

The sword comes down through Catra’s gut. She can feel it, piercing through her, can feel the warm blood bubbling up to the surface of her skin. She coughs. She looks up She-ra and sees….

Nothing. No remorse. No panic. No sadness. Just cold, red eyes on an expressionless face.

I never thought it would end this way, Catra thinks.

***

Catra gasped herself awake. Her hand came immediately to her abdomen and a wave of relief washed over her to find the skin and clothing intact.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” said a deep voice to her right.

“Gah!” Catra snapped her head to the side and saw a man with dark hair tied in a top know and a salt and pepper beard sitting at a wooden table in the middle of a ramshackle kitchen. She shoved herself off the bed she only just realized she was lying on, ready to run. Instead both of her legs gave out under her and she collapsed to the ground, hard.

“Ah…whoops. I…uh meant to warn you about that,” said the man rushing over and reaching out for Catra’s arm.

Catra jerked away from him and hissed. “What did you do to me!?” she shouted, trying frantically to drag herself toward the door. To her horror she couldn’t seem to get either of her legs move even to inch her across the ground. She couldn’t even feel them. She raised one hand with claws extended. Her eyes darted around the room looking for an escape.

The man stepped back and held up both hands in a surrendering gesture. “It wasn’t me! just brought you here. It was the Spinder you were fighting. They have a paralytic agent in their venom.”

Catra had a flashback to the horrendous pain that had spread from where the spider-creature had bit her. She glanced from the man’s face to the door down to her own useless legs flopped on the ground.

“Who are you? How did I get here? Where am I?”

The man touched his own chest. “My name is Micah. You got here by me and Fredrich—but mostly me—carrying you. And here is…well my house. Can I please help you get back in the bed?”

Catra hissed again. “I’ll get myself back,” she snapped. She glanced at the door she suspected led outside and then back to the bed she had just vacated. Every instinct in her begged to race for the door but she had no idea what she was going to do when she got there.

Not that that’s ever stopped me before, she thought to herself before starting to drag herself back toward the bed.

Micah watched her in silence, but she could almost feel the strain as he held himself back from reaching out to help her. The process was slow and mortifying, but she was eventually able to lift herself back onto the straw-stuffed mattress.

She positioned herself with her back against the wall and glared at Micah. He was dressed in plain brown leathers with a thick heavy knit cloak over his shoulder. He looked…familiar somehow, but Catra couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Uh…are you hungry? Would you like some stew? It should be ready in a minute.”

Catra’s stomach growled at the thought but she ignored it.

“I would like some answers,” she said instead. “Why did you bring me here?”

Some color popped into Micah’s cheeks and he looked down to pick an invisible piece of lint off his shirt. “Fredrich and I were out for a late-night stroll and we heard your scream. We came to check things out and saw you were about to be lunch for the Spinder, so we decided to intervene.”

Catra narrowed her eyes. “Out for a stroll…in the middle of the night…through Beast Island? And who is Fredrich?”

Micah looked up. “Oh, he’s sitting next to you.”

Catra started. She looked to her left where she met the beady black eyes of the same little creature with the bushy tail that had run out of the underbrush last night.

Every predator instinct in her went on high alarm. She froze in place and felt her claws, which had retracted during her struggle back onto the bed, extend again.

The creature chittered at her, shook an angry fist and then darted away just moments before Catra reached out to swipe at it. She missed and nearly toppled over onto her side.

The creature, Fredrich, scampered across the floor and darted up Micah’s side perch on his shoulder. He chittered loudly into Micah’s ear.

“Well obviously,” Micah said, ostensibly replying to whatever the rodent was screeching about. “She’s a Magicat. What did you expect, bating her like that?”

“She’s a what?” Catra snapped.

Micah’s looked back over to her. “Uh…a Magicat?”

“A what?”

“Your race. The Magicats.”

Catra scowled. “I am a Horde soldier. My race is irrelevant.”

“I think technically you’re a Horde prisoner now, correct? They’re not sending their best and brightest to Beast Island these days.”

“I am not a prisoner.” Catra paused. “I…misplaced something valuable to Hordak. He sent me to find it.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“What is it to you?” she said. “Were you in need of a second pet or something? You can hardly be taking in every wayward Horde prisoner who ends up on this forsaken island.”

Micah shrugged. “Like I said, we heard your cry and we tried to help. Obviously, you’re in no state to go searching for your lost…item right now and I don’t really want to see my hard work go to waste. Here.” He walked over to a small cookfire in the corner of the room and ladled some sort of thick broth into a bowl. “Have some stew. Relax. I have some work to do in the other room. The paralytic from the Spinder will wear off in a few days. Whenever you can walk you can leave. No more questions asked.”

Catra accepted the bowl. She stared down at the liquid and sniffed it. She looked back up at Micah.

“Oh! A spoon.” He handed her a small wooden utensil.

Catra stared at the utensil and then back at the bowl. There was delectable smell coming from the “stew” or whatever he had called it. She took the wooden object from him and then bent her head down close to the broth and lapped at it gingerly. It was warm and a bit salty with a deeper earthy flavor that Catra couldn’t place but was maybe reminiscent of the yellow ration bars in the Horde.

Micah’s eyes widened. “Have you…never had soup before?”

Catra glared.

“You uh…I mean it’s fine to eat it that way, but the spoon will help you get some of the vegetable chuncks. Let me show you.” He demonstrated dipping the spoon into the bowel and lifting it up with a large orange tuber balancing on the end. “Up to you.”

Catra snatched the spoon out of his hand causing the vegetable chunk to splash back down into the broth. She mimicked his movement, bringing up a mouthful of broth and vegetables.

It was heavenly; warm and filling and full of so many flavors Catra couldn’t describe. Swallowing it down felt like scratching an itch she hadn’t known she was ignoring. She continued to spoon the stew into her mouth, forgetting about her audience until Micah cleared his throat.

Catra looked up. “What?”

“My only rule is please don’t interrupt me while I’m working.” He gestured to a door on the right side of the room that as open just slightly enough to tell it led into a shed of some kind. “Oh, and please don’t eat Fredrich. You probably can’t catch him right now, but once you get your legs back, he might be hard to resist. I’d be very put out if he died.”

Fredrich chittered in seeming agreement with this sentiment. Catra just shrugged and said “Fine,” before returning to her stew.

Micah watched her for another minute before he disappeared into the shed and shut the door behind him. A few minutes later a faint white light seemed to glow through the slats of the wall. Catra paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and stared. There seemed to be something familiar about the pulsing of the light.

Fredrich scampered up the side of the wall and settled himself on a shelf that contained a little nest of fabric scraps. He chittered at Catra for a few seconds before curling himself into a ball and seeming to go to sleep.

Catra set her now empty bowl aside the decided to do the same. She lay down on her side, tugging her legs into some sort of sensible position. It probably wasn’t the wisest idea to let down her guard in this strange place with this strange man and his little rat creature, but she hadn’t had a full night’s rest in almost three days now and she had no idea how long it would take before her legs were working well enough to get her out of here. If they going to hurt her, they would get a chance eventually.

Even before she fully finished the thought, she was unconscious.

***

“Good news! I found a small spring about a half hour’s walk into the jungle and there were these berry things nearby that seem to match this illustration in the manual as safe to eat!” Scorpia dumped and armload of supplies onto the campsite they had set up on the beach. “Uh…what are you doing?”

Entrapta was lying on her stomach examining an array of variably sized pebbles spread out on the flattened sand in front of her. In one hand she had the small beeping cylindrical device from earlier and in her other there was one of the seemingly endless supply of tracker pads she had on her person at all times.

“You were right!” Entrapta exclaimed as she reached for a handful of berries and shoved them in her mouth.

“Great! Uh…right about what?”

“These tiny data crystals; they contain tiny bits of data! I am collecting relevant pieces together to try to gain information about the larger piece of First One’s tech they came from! If my initial calculations are correct the main structure should be about ten miles that way.” She thrust a finger toward the densest part of the jungle and let out a delighted laugh. “I never expected such advances in my research on such a primitive appearing island.”

Scorpia sighed. “But don’t you think we should maybe stay put for a little bit longer? I finally found a reliable source of food and water and the jungle is not striking me as a particularly safe place to travel. I saw these spider webs up in the canopy that have to have been as big as Hordak’s inner sanctum.”

“Research cannot advance without risks!” Entrapta shouted jumping to her feet. She paused and took in the setting moons. “Although maybe we should wait until daytime before venturing on. We will travel more efficiently with a reliable light source.”

Scorpia gave a relieved sigh. “Good. Let’s get the fire going again.”

***

When Catra woke from her nap the cabin was silent. She lay on her side for a moment, eyes closed, just absorbing the sensation of feeling rested. After a long minute she tried to roll over and managed to get her legs tangled up on the process. She cursed and forced herself up into a sitting position.

The cabin was small; one large room and the smaller space Micah had disappeared into from what she could tell. The building was oddly put together, haphazard logs and boards going every which way with no real obvious means of support. The irregular network created dozens of small pockets of shelves that seemed to contain a strange assortment of knick knacks. Some appeared to be scraps of cloth woven into small sculptures while others looked like animal bones or colorful rocks.

In the far corner was the cookfire where the now cold pot of stew was resting. A rack beside it was covered with wooden plates and bowls and utensils. In the center of the room was a large (or at least large for the space) wooden table and a single chair which looked as whimsically constructed as the rest of the place.

The door to the room where Micah had disappeared was still closed, although the strange white light seemed to have disappeared. Catra cast a glance over to Fredrich’s nest, but he had disappeared. She felt the tip of her tail fluff up a bit at the thought of him scurrying around the cabin somewhere.

Wait! Her tail! She hadn’t been able to feel it at all before she had fallen asleep. She whipped it around in front of her and twitched the tip back and forth a few times. A wave of relief washed over her. She was getting better. Slowly, but it was happening.

The door to the side room creaked open and Micah trudged through. A few stray hairs had escaped his top knot and the bags underneath his eyes looked more pronounced.

“You look better than when I left,” Micah commented as he sat down on the single chair pushed up against the table.

“You look decidedly worse,” said Catra.

Micah raised an eyebrow. “Not one for niceties, I see. I might have guessed being raised by the Horde.”

Catra scowled. “You don’t know anything about how I was raised.”

A strange look crossed Micah’s face but he shrugged and didn’t reply.

Catra studied her claws. After a minute she sighed and said. “What is a Magicat?”

Micah looked up at her. “You really don’t know? The Horde didn’t tell you anything about…? Well no, I guess they wouldn’t.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Micah shook his head. “Did you think you were the only one of your kind?”

Catra rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I’m not stupid. I know where the orphans at the Horde come from.” She shrugged and studied a claw. “I was just the only one like me in the Horde.” She frowned. “Not that it mattered.”

“The Magicats were a race of cat-hybrid people that lived in a forest on the outskirts of the Crimson Waste. Half-Moon. They were excellent warriors and very territorial, so they didn’t often venture outside of their territory. They were one of the last territories to fall to the Horde before the final stand of the Princess Alliance.”

“Final stand of the Princess Alliance,” Catra muttered. “If only.”

Micah raised an eyebrow.

“What’s it to you, old man.? Following Etherian politics from your hermit cave?”

Micah laughed. “I wasn’t always the ‘hermit’ of Beast Island, kitten. I didn’t end up here by accident any more than you did.”

“You’re telling me that you fought for the rebellion?”

“I never did understand that term. The rebellion. Hordak crash landed and started taking over one kingdom at a time; how does defending your home make you a rebel? I guess it all just depends on your perspective. But yes, I fought for the princesses. Is this where you tell me that Hordak just wanted a more ‘orderly’ Etheria?”

Catra looked away.

“Yeah you don’t strike me as a true believer.”

Catra snorted. “It’s easy to have high lofty beliefs when everyone loves you. I had to fight for everything I ever had. And then, boom, one mistake and lost it all just as fast. Scrap my way back to the top and now look at me.” She gestured to her useless legs. “Let’s just say I have a really practical view about idealism.”

Micah’s mouth quirked up in a little half smile. “That’s an interesting read of the situation. I think another version might be that you doubled down on your allegiance to a man you knew very well was selling half-truths and cruelty and it predictably did not work out in your favor. The princesses are not without their flaws, but at least their ideals are in earnest.”

“Yeah, earnest enough to make them all weak and vulnerable. No thank you.” Catra squirmed herself to a more comfortable position. “Why did you even bother to save me, an evil Horde solider, anyway? You never really answered that part. For all you know I’ve just come from attacking your favorite princess stronghold. Were you more a fan of the sarcastic mermaidy one or the hippie?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know who I was saving when I went in there,” he said, standing up. “And now here you are. My vulnerable ideals preclude me from tossing you out when you can’t walk.” He moved toward the door. “Or letting you starve to death on my bed. So, I’m going to do a bit of gardening and make dinner.”

“Stew?” Catra asked before could stop herself. She winced at the hopeful rise in her voice.

Micah smiled. “Yes, stew. You’ll get sick of it eventually. But it’s nice to have someone who appreciates my cooking.” He shot a look into the corner of the room and Catra could hear angry chittering from wherever Fredrich must be hiding. “Back in a few.”

***

Scorpia was miserable. She had sand in parts of her shell she couldn’t reach, the skin on the back of her neck was sunburned and every non-shell part of her body was itching both from bug bites and a strange rash that that had popped up on her right forearm. They had been walking for hours with Entrapta cheerfully chatting about technomagical interfaces while her prehensile hair seemed to have taken on the burden of walking and swatting away bugs.

“Oh dear,” muttered Entrapta suddenly, breaking off her technobabble stream-of-consciousness.

“What?” Scorpia asked through gritted teeth.

“Weeeell, I think there might be a slight error in my calculations.”

“And?”

“And I think maybe we’ve been walking the wrong direction for the past twenty minutes.”

Scorpia took a slow, deep breath in and out of her mouth. She turned and took a step but paused when Entrapta squeaked.

“Also, I think perhaps you’re standing in a bee’s nest.”

“A what’s nest?”

“Bees? Small yellow critters with stingers?”

Scorpia suddenly became aware of a loud humming bubbling up around her feet. She glanced down and saw the swarm slowly amassing and rising from what had looked like a pile of leaves when Scorpia had stepped on it.

“Run?” asked Scorpia.

“Run,” agreed Entrapta.

“AAAAAAAAAGH”

***

Catra was starting to get used to being in the cabin. Every day she was getting a little more movement in her legs. As Micah had explained it, the poison had spread from the initial site of her injury and retreated back in much the same manner. Eventually she was able to limp awkwardly around the cabin, dragging her right leg behind her and using the furniture to support her.

Micah took this as a sign that it was time for her to pitch in.

“Weeding?”

“Have you never seen a garden before?”

Catra just raised her eyebrows at him.

Micah closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “Do I even want to know what is in those ration bars you were carrying around with you?”

“Protein, carbohydrates and a small amount of lipids with the requisite vitamin and mineral supplementation,” said Catra.

“H’okay. Well outside of the Horde we eat something called ‘food’ which generally comes from plants in the ground or animals that are used for meat. Since everything on Beast Island is generally more interested in eating us than becoming dinner meat is sparse so most of what I make is vegetable based. To get enough vegetables to feed you, me and a surprisingly voracious squirrel I grow them in a small plot of land in the back yard. That’s called a garden. And it needs weeding.”

Catra blinked at him.

“You know what, just come with me and I’ll show you.”

It was the first time Catra had ventured outside the cabin since waking up in it. The air was humid enough she could feel the fur on her tail puff up and her skin felt tacky almost immediately. Micah handed her a long stick to use as support as she limped out onto the front porch.

Immediately she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the low hum of the jungle came rushing at her.

“Don’t worry,” said Micah, seeing her shrink back. “We’re protected here. As long as you stay back from the tree-line you’re pretty safe.”

“Pretty safe,” Catra muttered and deliberately chose not to ask how they were so protected.

“This is the garden,” Micah said, gesturing to a large dirt square that was subdivided into several smaller squares with neat lines of greenery poking up. “Come with me, we’ll start with the carrots.” He led her over to one of the patches and crouched down.

“This is a carrot,” he said, pulling one of the stalks out of the ground to reveal a long conical orange tuber. Catra recognized it from where she had seen bunches lying out on the kitchen table in the cabin. “They grow underground, so all that you can see is the stalks poking up which should pretty much all look like this,” he pointed to the green bit he’d pulled the carrot up with. “These other plants,” now he pointed to a thin vines growing next to the row of carrot stalks, “are weeds. As they grow, they will start to choke off the carrots and take over the garden. So, we pull them up.”

He tugged gently and the vine lifted with a shower of dirt. Catra could see dozens of smaller roots dividing from the piece Micah had pulled from.

“You want to try to pull them up with the roots still attached, otherwise they just come back. Like the carrots, there is often more beneath the dirt than above it.”

Catra set down her walking stick and lowered herself down sit on the ground, unable to crouch with her weak leg. She grasped one of the weeds and pulled sharply, ripping the stalk where it went into the ground. She glared at the small piece of greenery in her hand. “This is stupid.”

“You have to be gentle, otherwise they tear like that and then you have to go after the roots with a tool. Here, try again.”

Catra smacked the dirt with one hand. “Why am I doing this? I’m leaving as soon as I can walk without that stupid stick!”

“One possible reason might be as a favor to an old man who has shown you a great deal of hospitality,” replied Micah. There was not much bite to his words but Catra could feel her cheeks heat. “Another might be that I’m watching you go quietly stir-crazy sitting around the cabin all day so this might give you something to do aside from quelling your urge to chase Fredrich around the place.”

Catra’s blush deepened.

“Here, try this one,” Micah gestured to the small plant by Catra’s hand. “Just pull gently and wiggle it a little and you can free the whole thing. If it’s really stuck or you tear it again you can use this to wedge it free.” He handed her a small trowel.

Catra reluctantly took the trowel and reached for the weed. This time she tugged a little more softly and felt the dirt slowly give way before a familiar ripping sensation and the weed pulled away with a few thick broken roots. Catra growled and threw the plant to one side sending an arc of dirt into the air.

“Better,” said Micah. “You’ll get the hang of it soon.”

“Better?” she sneered. “At this rate you’re going to have to dig up your whole garden to get all the roots out.”

Micah shrugged. “The weeds will pop back up again and give us another shot even if we miss them this time. You can’t expect to be perfect at something the first time you try it.”

Catra stared at the dirt.

“Let me guess,” Micah said. “The Horde wasn’t too forgiving on the subject of failed first attempts.”

Catra ignored him and pulled at another weed. It seemed more deeply entrenched in the ground as she wiggled at it. She shoved down the urge to rip this one out and instead extended a claw into the dirt to break up some of the hard ground around the weed. There was a sudden giveaway and the majority of the plant seemed to come free with only a few of the smaller roots broken at the edge.

“Nice,” said Micah. “You work here, I’m going to head over to the tomatoes. Just shout if you need help.”

“Oh help, Micah, the plants are attacking me,” Catra mocked, pulling another weed that came up surprisingly easily. She regarded it with a

“Well as long as your biting sarcasm is intact, I think we will be okay,” Micah said with a chuckle as he hoisted himself to his feet and moved toward a different part of the garden with large green vines draped over wooden frames.

Catra worked her way down the rows of carrots, clearing away everything except for the carrot stalks. A few times she grew frustrated again, cursing or throwing broken weeds or, once, a carrot she had pulled up by mistake. Micah ignored her and by the time she reached the end of the row she was starting to find the gentle give of the weeds coming free sort of satisfying. She was taken by surprise when Micah’s hand touched her shoulder.

“It’s getting dark,” he said. “We should go inside for some supper.”

Catra jerked back to herself and was surprised to hear her stomach let out a low rumble. Micah helped her to her feet and handed her the walking stick, but she found as she moved that she scarcely needed it. She leaned on it heavily when Micah looked in her direction and made her way back into the cabin.

***

Catra dreamed.

She is back in the Fright Zone sitting on the bottom bunk with a blanket wrapped around her. She’s not crying but she can feel that deep ache in her chest that was a familiar marker of a run in with Shadow Weaver.

She hears a noise and looks up just in time to see a blond ponytail disappear around the corner.

“Adora?” she calls, jumping up and giving chase.

She rounds the corner only to see Adora disappear into another corridor.

“Adora, wait!” But this time she is facing an empty hallway when she rounds the corner.

“Did you think she would wait around for you?”

Catra jumps and whirls to see Shadow Weaver standing behind her, arms crossed over her chest.

“Adora has more important things than to wait for her needy little pet to get over herself.” Shadow Weaver leans down close. “Were you crying again? Pathetic. Get back to training. You’re late.”

The next thing she knows Catra is standing in the locker room alone. There is laughter coming from outside the door and she thinks she can pick out the familiar lilt of Adora’s giggle. The door swings open and the cadets stream in. Catra searches frantically for Adora’s blond pouf, but she can’t see her anywhere. She turns back to her locker and catches sight of Adora sitting on the bench pulling off her boots.

Catra slinks up beside her. “Not even going to say hi, princess?”

Adora treats her to a withering look. “I don’t know what you expected. You let us down again today.”

“I….”

“Save it Catra. I have to study.”

Adora stands to walk away.

“Wait!” Catra reaches out and grabs Adora’s shoulder and suddenly the scenery has changed in they are standing in the Whispering Woods.

“Wait!?” Adora jerks her arm from Catra’s grasp. “Why should I wait for you? You never waited for me. You never did anything for me! You whine and cry about how unfair everything was and how badly you were treated but we both know you deserved it. Maybe if you’d actually tried once in a while I wouldn’t have had to leave.”

“I…I tried,” Catra stammers. She can’t seem to get ahead of swelling pain in her gut. “I did try. Shadow Weaver….”

“Shadow Weaver values strength. She was hard on you because you’re so damn weak, Catra. She had no choice.”

“No….” Tears are starting to spill over. Stop, Catra thinks. You don’t cry like this. Not in front of people. Not in front of Adora.

“Ugh, look at you.” Adora’s face is full of disgust. “What a waste.” She turns and walks away.

Catra takes a step to go after her but her knees give out and she falls to the forest floor sobbing.

Catra woke up. Her cheeks were damp. She pushed to sit herself up and found it remarkably easy with both legs working. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She pressed her aching eyes against her knees and sat like that for the rest of the night.

***

“I think the signal has been shifting this entire time!” Entrapta studied her tracker pad. “It must operate under similar properties to the Whispering Woods, although in this case it doesn’t seem like the jungle is moving so much as certain structures within the jungle that give off very strong First One signals.”

They were gathered around a small fire in a clearing a few miles from where they had run into the bee’s nest. They had been relatively lucky; Scorpia had three stings and Entrapta had escaped with just one on her ankle. After that she had agreed to set up camp for the night and continue their quest for the First One’s signal in the morning.

“Fantastic,” said Scorpia, poking the fire with a long stick. The sting on her neck ached.

“It appears we are about five miles off at this point, but I have adjusted my calculations slightly in hopes of accounting for the movements.”

Scorpia sighed as her stomach growled. “I don’t suppose that thing can give us any information on where to find some sort of food product other than berries. I’m fairly certain that a diet exclusively berries is not going to be very healthy.”

“Oh, that would be useful. Maybe I can design something once we get back to the Fright Zone!”

Scorpia looked up. “Once we get back to…. Entrapta, what do you think we’re doing here?”

“Looking for the First One’s tech on Beast Island.”

“No…I mean…do you think that Hordak sent us here? For a mission?”

Entrapta’s eyes darted from Scorpia’s face to the fire and back again. “No. I mean, I know that Catra was mad about me not wanting to activate the portal because of the whole ‘possibly could destroy all of time and space’ thing. And I heard that Beast Island is supposed to be some sort of Horde prison, so I guess being sent here makes me a prisoner. Oh! And then you came along to keep me company. Which maybe means you are a prisoner too, although I don’t know what you did to anger Catra. It seems pretty easy to do these days. But now we’re here and this island is full of mysteries so, I figure, why dwell on the whole ‘prisoner’ thing. I mean I started out as a prisoner of the Horde in the first place and that turned out to be great!”

The stick snapped in Scorpia’s claw.

“We are here because Catra sent you to your death! Don’t you get it? Beast Island is not a place you come back from. It’s a place you get sent and then you are never. Heard. From. Again!”

Scorpia stood up and threw her stick into the fire. “We’re not going back to the Fright Zone. she shouted, towering over Entrapta who just stared up at her with wide eyes. “You are not going to bring Hordak a treasure trove of First One’s tech! The most likely thing that is going to happen to us is that we are both going to be eaten by something huge and mean and everyone we ever knew or cared about is going to think we were traitors. And I….” Scorpia sniffed as tears started to leak out of her eyes.

“I came with you because what Catra did was wrong and I…I know she would have realized that eventually, but she was so angry…. And I wanted to protect you but now I’m going to die out here and you don’t even care. All you care about is your precious tech.” Scopria sank back down and buried her head and her claws.

There was silence except for Scorpia’s ragged sobs and the quiet crackling of the fire. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I…I never really had any friends other than my robots until recently,” said Entrapta softly. “I’m not very good at being a friend myself—too many parameters—but I do know that you are a very good friend, Scorpia. According to my calculations, you are my best friend, actually.”

Scorpia sniffed and turned her head to the side to look at Entrapta.

“I do know that this is dangerous and that you gave up a lot to come with me. I’m sorry if I made you feel taken for granted.  I thought that if I could find this signal maybe I could find something that would help us out here but…maybe I’ve been a little too fixated. I tend to do that.” She gave a little laugh. “My robots never really cared enough to call me on it.”

Scorpia took a shaky breath. “Yeah I….” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “That makes sense Entrapta. I…uh…I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“That’s okay!” Entraptra said. “I do better if you tell me things plainly. Not as many parameters to navigate.”

Scorpia nodded. “In that case…I need a break. We have been walking for days and I don’t have mechanical hair to help me out. And we need more food and water. Perhaps we could camp here tonight and tomorrow, find some more supplies and….”

Scorpia was cut off by a low growl coming from behind them.

“Uh…Entrapta?”

“Yes? You were saying? More supplies….” Entrapta had her tracker pad out, goggles down and was typing with her hair.

“Remember what I said about us most likely being eaten by something very large?”

Entrapta looked up. “I do.”

“That may be happening much sooner than I had hoped.” The statement was punctuated by another low growl.

They turned slowly. At first all Scorpia could see was blackness and underbrush, but the fire flared and suddenly they could see the glint off two golden eyes peering at them through the darkness.

The growl became louder as a large creature stepped into view. In addition to the yellow eyes, it was covered in pitch-dark fur with long tusks and a rope of saliva dripping from its mouth.

In unison Scorpia and Entrapa were both on their feet backing away slowly as the creature stalked forward.

“We need to run,” hissed Scorpia.

“It’s going to catch us,” Entrapta said, voice high pitched.

“Definitely. But what choice do we have. On the count of three. One…two…THREE!” Scorpia turned to run, one arm reaching to grab at Entrapta but finding empty air. Scorpia turned back just in time to watch Entrapta rushing forward.

“Entrapta, no!” shouted Scorpia as Entrapta launched herself toward the beast using her hair as a springboard.

“You stay back!” Entrapta shouted as she fell toward the creature. One hand shot out, wielding the bag of data crystals like a slingshot, smacking against the top of the animal’s snout.

To Scorpia’s shock the creature let out a loud whimper and broke off its attack, falling to the side.

Entrapta managed to steer herself with her hair and three-point landed facing the retreating beast and looking (Scorpia had to admit it) pretty badass.

The beast ran off whimpering into the woods.

“Entrapta that was amazing!” Scorpia ran toward her and scooped her up into a hug. “How did you know that was going to work?”

“I didn’t!” said Entrapta. “As a rule, I would prefer not to make calculations based on so little data, but from what I could figure the odds of fighting seemed better than running. Although I have to admit that was way more effective than I expected.”

“You’re telling me.” Scorpia set her down on the ground. “Any idea what just happened?”

Entrapta looked at the small pouch in her hand. “It seems that the beast was responding to the First One’s tech in a negative fashion. I would need more experiments to determine if this is effective for all of the beings on this island or if was only the one we just encountered. I am also not certain if there is a specific data crystal in this collection that was effective or if it was the large quantity I have collected. Perhaps with further analysis I could determine….”

“Okay ‘Trapta…how about if we revisit that idea tomorrow while we have some down time?’

“Down time!” Entrapta raised herself up on her hair to be eye to eye with Scorpia. “This is all the more reason to find the central First One’s technology stash as soon as possible. Now that we have a safe means of travel, we could leave tonight and....” She paused and studied Scorpia’s face for a moment. “I mean…right! Down time. Analysis, tomorrow!”

“And then on to the First One’s stash the day after,” agreed Scorpia with a relieved sigh.

***

“What is it?” Catra asked, taking the leather object in one hand.

“It’s a book,” said Micah. He looked pained. “I take it you didn’t have books in the Fright Zone?”

Catra shook her head. “What do you do with it?”

“You read it. Oh! I didn’t even ask if you can read.”

Catra scowled at him. “I can read. We had plenty of things we needed to read in the Horde. Like duty rosters and troop rotations and battle maneuvers. And there were like…pamphlets about the Fright Zone and the Horde.”

“In other parts of Etheria, people use writing to tell stories. Sometimes they were true stories about history and sometimes they were untrue stories that were just told for fun.”

Catra raised her eyebrows. “Untrue stories told for fun.”

“No one even told stories in the Fright Zone.” The line between his eyebrows grew deeper.

“We told stories,” Catra muttered. “I was just never into all the spooky princess tales. Adora was the one who ate that shit up.”

“If you don’t like it you can just stop reading it. But I thought it might give you something else to do while I’m working. There are only so many weeds in the garden.”

Catra felt her cheeks heat and she looked down at the tome in front of her. Once she had gotten the hang of gardening it had become difficult for Micah to get her back indoors. She found a weird satisfaction in lifting the weeds out of the dirt and had developed her claw-trowel method in a way that extracted even the most stubborn of root systems without breakage.

She had also dispensed with the walking stick in the past day. Micah had yet to comment on her new mobility and Catra hadn’t brought up leaving again.

“This book is written about the world of the Princesses, so there may be some things you don’t recognize as you go through. But just ask if you run into anything too peculiar.”

Catra opened it to the first page. “The Cat Queen,” she read. She raised an eyebrow at Micah who grinned.

“I thought this might give you a bit of an idea of what Magicat society was like, even though the events are made up. Don’t worry, there are plenty of action scenes. A little romance too.” He wigged his eyebrows and grinned. Catra rolled her eyes.

Micah stood. “I have some work to do. You can tell me what your thoughts are later this afternoon.”

Catra watched Micah disappear into the side room. A moment later that familiar, unsettling white light started to leak through the slats of the doorway. Catra sighed and opened the book to the first page.

She read for the better part of an hour and had to admit that for all the times she rolled her eyes at colorful descriptions of jungle castles built high in the trees and bizarre customs, the story was much more engrossing than any battle maneuvers she had read about.

She was eventually interrupted by Fredrich who had chosen to perch near his nest and chitter at her.

Catra sighed and closed the book. “You know I can’t understand you like Micah can,” she told him. “All you ever do is get my hackles up.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if Fredrich could understand her, but he chittered again and held something up in the air.

It was the remote to call back the Horde ship.

“You little shit!” shouted Catra and lunged toward him.

Fredrich chittered and dashed across the network of shelves. Catra, clumsy after so long without full use of her limbs, careened into the wall, missing him. She growled, tail twitching, and gave in fully to the instinct to track and pounce.

Fredrich dashed across the floor. Catra followed him with her eyes trying to anticipate where he would go. She saw him aiming for the rack of cookware and sprang after. He dodged just in time and made a break for the closed door of the work room where Micah had gone. Catra could see a squirrel-sized hole a few inches from the floor where the door met the hinge.

“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered. This time she leaped ahead of his path and slapped one paw down beside creature.

Fredrick let out a squeak, dropped the remote and leapt over her paw, narrowly escaping through a hole in the floor just under the bed.

Catra sat back against the side-room door panting feeling both embarrassed and triumphant. She turned the remote over in her hand. Her finger brushed over the single button in the center. She imagined pushing it, right now, sitting on the floor of Micah’s cabin. The boat would show up. No Catra or Entrapta to be found. And then it would leave; no second chances. No going back.

Why would we go back? Catra could hear Scorpia’s voice in her head. Let’s stay here. Forget Hordak. Forget Adora. Forget all of them. We could, you know…be happy.

The light from behind the door flared up again and reflected off the metal of the remote. Catra felt her stomach turn and her finger slid off the remote’s trigger. She twisted around and saw a small gap between the slats of the door.

She shouldn’t.

But then again when had Catra ever done what she should.

She pressed her face against the door and peered through the gap.

At first all she saw was light. She squinted and wondered if the reason she felt so unsettled was because this reminded her of the She-Ra transformations. Then her vision cleared. She could see Micah standing over a large bowl with his arms stretched up in front of him. From her angle on the floor she couldn’t see the contents of the bowl, but she could see a light pattern rising from it. She watched his hands forming intricate patterns in the air as lines of light emitted from his fingers and drifted to join the circular design. In the very center was a clear blue crystal that glowed brighter and dimmer in a slow pulse. Just beyond it was the ghostly outline of a person with long hair looking out over a cliff.

Catra let out a yelp and threw herself backwards from the door, crashing into the chair. It fell to ghe ground with a loud bang.

The glow behind the door abruptly stopped and a moment later the door swung open.

“If you need something else to do at least go into the garden and leave poor Fredrich…Catra?” Micah stopped when he saw her. Catra was crouched beside the fallen chair, eyes wide, muscles locked in place, the fur on the tip of her tail standing on end.

“Catra, are you okay?” He held up one hand and Catra jumped backward again, skidding into a defensive position.

“I saw,” she hissed. “I saw what you were doing in there.”

“Saw what I was…?”

“You’re like her,” she hissed. “How did I miss it? What do you want with me?”

“Catra, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you talking about?”

“Shadow Weaver!” Catra shouted. “I know what sorcery looks like!”

Micah froze, arm still outstretched toward her. “Wait,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”

“And what do I think, Micah?” Catra shouted, horrified to wetness springing to her eyes. She squeezed her hands into fists and realized she was still clutching the remote. She had almost just…. “What could I possibly think watching you do magic just like her.”

“It’s not like her. Catra, please! I…it’s complicated. I’m not like her. Just let me explain.”

He took a step forward and Catra immediately moved backwards, scrambling up onto the table, crouching with one hand outstretched, claws unsheathed.

“Don’t you dare get near me!” She turned and started to run toward the door. It wasn’t until her hand touched the knob that she realized she had been bracing for the familiar cold sensation of magic freezing her muscles into place.”

Instead Micah shouted, “I’m sorry! I never meant to lie to you. I was going to explain once I thought you would stay long enough to hear me out. I didn’t want to let you down again!”

Catra paused, gripping the handle.  

“Again?”

She looked back at Micah and was shocked by the expression on his face. Not the anger or fear or disappointment she expected. He looked…sad.

“This isn’t the first time our paths have crossed, Catra. You…wouldn’t remember—it was a very long time ago—but I…I will never forget it.”

Catra let her hand slip from the doorknob.

“Why should I trust you?” she asked.

Micah shrugged. “I don’t know if you should or could. But just…hear me out? I won’t lie to you anymore. About anything. And if you want to leave after you hear everything…well, I won’t stop you.”

Catra looked back toward the door. She stared at the wood grain, the cracks between the slats.

Her other hand was still clutching the remote. For a moment Catra couldn’t breathe. She reached for the door and turned the knob.

“Please?”

Catra please! You don’t have to do this.

Catra released the doorknob and walked over to the bed. She sat herself cross legged on the grass-stuffed mattress and pointed to the chair across the room.

“You stay there. Tell me your story. Don’t come close to me. Don’t even start to do any magic or I’m gone, and I’ll probably rip your face open on my way out. Don’t test me; I’ve done it before.”

Micah nodded and sank down into the chair.

“It’s a long story,” he started.

***

“I guess I should start with the woman you know as Shadow Weaver. When I met her, she was known as Light Spinner and she was one of the most powerful sorcerers in Mystacor. I was a young student there and I admired her above all my other teachers. She recognized some talent in me and after a great deal of pestering she took me on as her apprentice. I was so flattered; she had this way of making her favored students feel like they were at the center of the universe. But I take it you know something about that?”

Catra scowled down at her hands. “Not from personal experience.”

“Adora?” Micah asked. Catra eyes shot up. “You talk in your sleep sometimes.”

“This isn’t about me,” snapped Catra. Micah nodded.

“I was willing to do whatever she said to stay in her favor. Frequently that involved bending or sometimes outright breaking rules of the academy. Light Spinner always felt that she was underrecognized for her skills and at the time I thought she might have had a point. I guess in retrospect the masters recognized a hunger for power that I missed. Or…shared.

“One day she went too far. She used me to help her tap into a spell she had no business using and it backfired. The spell…it changed her somehow, scarred her face and turned her into whatever it was that became Shadow Weaver. She was cast out of Mystacor, cut off from magic and the masters told me that she was gone forever. They agreed to let me complete my training under heavy supervision after that. I wanted to put the whole thing behind me, but I always suspected she wouldn’t have just faded away like that.

“Light Spinner…Shadow Weaver was wrong about a lot of thing in Mystacor, but she did recognize that the masters were too passive when it came to bigger threats to Etheria. They expected the outside world to take care of itself. But with the Horde starting to eat up kingdoms, I couldn’t just stand by. When I completed my training, I left Mystacor and joined the rebellion. I met my wife. We had a child together, a baby girl.” Micah smiled for a moment before clearing his throat. “And together we fought against the Horde.”

“This is all nauseatingly pure, but maybe we could skip ahead a bit?” Catra interrupted.

Micah rolled his eyes but continued. “All the kingdoms have different protections, but the lands closest to the Fright Zone were the most vulnerable to the Horde. We lost ground fast before we created the Alliance and it was all we could do just to hold the line.

“One day we got the call from Half Moon, the kingdom of the Magicats.” Catra’s ear twitched. “I lead the troops as part of our aid effort, but when we got there it was already too late.

“The people of Half Moon…they were a proud people. They refused to surrender, even when the battle was clearly hopeless. I think perhaps they were holding out hope that reinforcements would arrive in time but…. When we got there the jungle kingdom was on fire and the few survivors were making a last stand or fleeing. We tried to join the fight but the Horde had already taken the castle as a stronghold, so it was as though we were the invaders. We never stood a chance.

“In the midst of the battle there was a break in the fighting, and I turned to see a familiar figure moving across the battleground. I don’t know how I recognized her—she looked so different from the woman I knew from Mystacor—but I knew immediately it was her. Light Spinner, now fully Shadow Weaver. She had something in her arms, thrown partly over one shoulder and when she turned, I could see it was a person. A Magicat child, maybe two years old, with a brown mane, grey tufts, and two mismatched eyes, one yellow and one blue.

“I pointed my staff at her head and shouted for her to stop. She did and turned to face me.

“She recognized me immediately, which threw me off guard. She looked so different I almost expected her to be a different person. But she spoke to me with the same affection she always had.

“I told her to put down the child and surrender. She laughed and told me the fight was over and I should go back home. I had a clear shot. One blast and it would have been over. I couldn’t save the rest of the kingdom, but I could save this one child and rid the word of Shadow Weaver forever.” He cast his eyes downward.

“But I couldn’t do it. I hesitated too long and, in that time, she was able to summon the power to freeze me in place. I thought she was going to kill me right then, but she walked up and stroked my cheek just like she used to do when I was her pupil. She told me it would be a waste to take my life and that the time we had worked together still meant so much to her.

“She took my staff and left me for the soldiers to tie me up. I watched her float away, unable to move or look another direction. But the clearest memory I have is watching those two mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, blinking at me over her shoulder as she faded into the smoke.”

Catra didn’t say anything for a minute and continued to stare at the floor. Finally, she sighed.

“You’re lying,” she stated.

“I swear, I’m not,” Micah said. “I…I did lie you before, but just about how I found you. I wasn’t just wandering through the woods in the middle of the night. I saw your boat land and I recognized you. I had Fredrich follow you and warn me when you were in danger. But everything else I told you is true.”

Catra shook her head. “Why would Shadow Weaver take a child from a battle? She never even went to the battles. And the only wards she raised were me and…Adora. And Adora was special.” She sneered through the word. “She hated me.”

“I…have my theories on that front,” said Micah. “Light Spinner only ever gave attention to the trainees she thought were the most naturally gifted. Generally, children from magical pedigrees. She used to talk about how the greatest potential student would be the offspring of a sorcerer and a royal. Able to channel sorcery with the power of a runestone.”

Catra snorted. “Well she miscalculated there if she thought that was what she was getting by kidnapping me.”

“It was a miscalculation. You are not a princess…”

“Obviously.” Catra rolled her eyes.

“…but the daughter of the Magicat queen did, in fact, have a sorcerer for a father. And she would have just turned 2 years old at the Battle of Half Moon.”

He paused as Catra put the pieces together. “She thought I was the princess.” It suddenly seemed harder to breathe. “You think she took me expecting I would be her next protégé and then…what, found out I was just normal?” Her voice kept seeming to climb in pitch without her permission. She could almost hear Shadow Weaver’s voice in her head. If you ever do anything to jeopardize Adora’s future, I will dispose of you myself. “She…that’s why she….” Catra was gasping now. “She hated me. All. Because I was….” She grabbed at her throat. “I can’t…I can’t breathe.”

Micah leaned forward in the chair.

“Don’t,” Catra shouted, one hand on her chest, the other pointing a claw in his direction. “Stay there.” She sucked in short bursts of air barely able to get the words out. “What. Did you do. To me,” she gasped.

“It’s not me,” said Micah. “You’re having a panic attack. Just…concentrate on your breathing.”

“What. Does it. Look like I’m. Doing,” Catra growled. Her head was swimming. I will dispose of you myself, she could hear the words on a loop in her mind. Dispose of you. “No!” Her lips felt numb.

“Catra! Listen to me!” She could barely hear him over the roaring in her hears. “You need to focus on something else. Think about a part of your body. Your left foot. Think about your left foot.”

Catra shot him an incredulous look.

“It helps, I promise. Just focus on your left foot. Don’t think about your breathing, think about your foot and your toes and your ankle.”

Catra forced her mind to focus on her left foot. She wigged her toes and extended her claws in and out. She rolled her ankle in a circle.

“Now your right foot.”

Catra shifted her attention to her right foot and did the same. There was still a small pain in her lower calf from where the spinder had stung her. She focused on that sensation until the roaring in her ears seemed to subside.

“Better?”

Catra opened her eyes, only then realizing she had closed them in the first place. Her breathing was calmer although the staccato rhythm of her heart was still going strong. She met Micah’s warm, concerned eyes.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I think it was your body’s response to…what I told you. It happens. When I first came here, I used to have panic attacks all the time. It took me a long time to learn how to break them. I usually just go from body part to body part, starting with my feet and moving up gradually.  I focus on each one for a second and at some point, I’ve distracted myself enough from the panic that I can function again. How do you feel?”

Catra thought about her answer for a long moment.

“Exhausted,” she said. “I can’t…I can’t think about this anymore.”

Micah nodded.

“I meant what I said. If you choose to leave, I won’t stop you. But please stay for tonight? It’s dark and the jungle is so much more dangerous at night.”

Catra nodded, too tired to argue. She felt so raw and wrung out. She tilted to her side until she was lying horizontally on the bed.

Micah looked on and gave a half smile. He pointed down at the chair where he sat. “Do you mind if I?”

Catra almost laughed. She felt too weak to fight Fredrich right now. “Go ahead,” she said with a little gesture in his direction. Micah stood up and pushed the chair in.

Catra rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, the little knots and whorls of the wood grain. She blinked her eyes and it felt so heavy to open them again. She closed her eyes again and almost instantly she was asleep.

***

Catra dreamed.

She is in the prison cell with Shadow Weaver, on her knees, arms wrapped around bare shoulders. Shadow Weaver reaches out toward her cheek. Catra flinches but lets her cup the side of her face gently in one hand.

“I will admit I was hard on you,” says Shadow Weaver. “But can you blame me?”

The grip of her face tightens, and nail-tips dig into the skin of her jawline.

“You’re hurting me,” Catra whispers. She can’t pull away.

“You were never anything but a burden to the Horde. Another mouth to feed. And yet I kept you around. For what? Certainly not for your gratitude.”

The nails dig deeper. Catra thinks she can feel blood dripping down her cheek.  “You never gave me a chance….”

“Silence! I should have disposed of you the moment I learned your true nature. It would have spared us all a lot of grief.”

Catra forces herself to look up at Shadow Weaver’s expressionless mask. “Then why didn’t you?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Because of me.”

Catra’s eyes focus behind Shadow Weaver as Adora steps into view. She rests one hand on Shadow Weaver’s shoulder.

“I was the only one who ever wanted you. I was the only one who ever protected you.”

“You should have let me die,” Catra spits.

Adora gives her a sad smile. “I probably should have.”

Catra woke up with tears streaming down her cheeks.

The cabin was dark and quiet aside from the soft snores coming from the bed roll on the floor.

Catra stood up slowly and padded over to where Micah was sleeping and sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him. She studied his face; brow relaxed so the crevices of his forehead were smoothed to thin lines. There were speckles of grey in his pitch-black hair, thickest around the temples and scattered through the coarse beard. His breathing was slow and measured, giving a faint nasal snore as he breathed in and the slow puff of air as he breathed out again.

Catra put her hand in the top of his head and the breathing shallowed out suddenly.

A second later Micah inhaled suddenly, and his eyes shot open.

“C…Catra?”

“I have this memory,” said Catra. Then she paused. Micah waited and said nothing. He didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“I think it might be my first memory, but things are so jumbled from the early years. I remember Shadow Weaver taking me into a room and sitting me down on bunk. She stroked my hair and cupped my cheek and told me that this was my home now and she would take care of me. She told me we would do great things together. And then she called Adora over and I saw this chubby little blond thing who was one big smile. She took my hand and I felt…safe. Maybe. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that again.”

Catra reaches up to touch one of tufts of hair by her ear. “If what you said was true that must have been when she still thought I was some…Princess-Mage or something. I don’t know how soon after that she gave up on me. But I never really forgot that feeling. Even long after I stopped trying to get it back.”

Micah struggled himself into a sitting position.

“She does have that effect on people,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep.

Catra clenched one fist and glared at the ground. “It doesn’t change anything,” she said. “I knew she was cruel; I knew she was unfair. I knew I was better than she ever gave me credit for. Why do I still care what she thinks?”

Micah put his hand over her fist and squeezed lightly. “She was your mother for all intents and purposes. I don’t think you can logic away the importance of that person in your life. No matter how terrible she was.”

Catra looked up at him. “If you could go back…if you could have a second chance. To kill her. Would you do it?”

Micah stared and their joined hands for a long minute before answering. “I don’t know.”

Catra sighed and slumped. “Yeah me neither.”

“I think about it all the time,” Micah admitted. “I wonder if she was ever genuine—if she ever really cared about doing the right thing and protecting people—or if it was always just about power. I know she manipulated me but…sometimes I wonder if she knew that was what she was doing. I wonder how much of who she is today is because of her corrupted magic and how much was just who she would always have become when Mystacor wasn’t enough. I wonder if she ever really loved me, or just saw me as a tool to greater power.”

“Why is it so hard to just hate her?” asked Catra.

Micah put an arm over Catra’s shoulder. “You don’t have to hate her. Or love her. You just have to find a way to love yourself despite her.”

Catra sniffed and wiped a tear from one eye. “That’s a nauseating sentiment.”

“Don’t deflect,” said Micah. “It’s true.”

Catra sighed. “If nothing else it seems like a project that will require a little more sleep,” she muttered.

Micah chuckled. “Fair enough. Go back to bed, kitten. We will talk more tomorrow.”

Catra stood and padded across the room back to the bed. She paused before climbing in but didn’t look at Micah. “I guess this means I’m staying.”

“Glad to hear it. The place would be too quiet without you.”

***

“This is it, huh?” Scorpia ran a hand along the smooth stone at the side of the pyramid that had seemingly just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the jungle. “Entrapta?” she said when there was no reply. She turned and saw the other woman staring at the monument with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“I have been looking for this my entire life,” whispered Entrapta.

“Ooookay.” Scorpia stepped back a bit and looked up toward the vanishing point at the top of the building. “But how do we get in?”

“I don’t know!” exclaimed Entrapta. “But I am going to find out!” She plopped down on the ground and started typing furiously into her tracker pad.

After a few minutes Scorpia got tired watching her and decided to wander around the base of the structure. The surface was a smooth, glass-like polished stone that seemed carved into intricate patterns that fit together with only the faintest of gaps. Scorpia had the sense that from distance the shapes might form together into a coherent image or words but this close she couldn’t really make out much.

She had almost finished her circuit when she heard Entrapta shout “I’ve got it!” and there was a sound of stone grinding against stone. Scorpia ran around the corner just in time to see Entrapta about to step through a doorway that had just opened in the side of the structure.

“Entrapta, wait!”

Entrapta paused and waved at Scorpia before disappearing through the opening.

“You will be the end of me, woman!” Scorpia muttered, starting to jog forward as the sound of grinding started up again and the rock began to shift and close.

“I hope you have a plan for getting out of here!” Scorpia shouted as she dove forward, sliding through the contracting entrance moments before it sealed up again.

Inside it is pitch black aside from the glow from Entrapta’s tracker pad. Scorpia follows the faint light forward until she nearly knocks Entrapta over at the entrance to a large circular chamber.

Entrapta has the same look on her face as she did outside the ruin; wide eyes and utter joy.

“I take it this was what you were looking for?”

“I have no idea!” Scorpia winced at the volume. “I can’t wait to find out!” Entrapta ran forward to the center of the room and once again settled herself on the floor, eyes focused on the tracker pad. Scorpia sighed and decided to do her own exploration.

The chamber was almost 200 feet in diameter, again made of that strange smooth stone material with networks of interweaving lines forming intricate patterns. Scorpia made her way to the edge of the circle to try to get a better look at the whole pattern, but she still couldn’t seem to get a great view. She glanced around and saw a short flight of stairs up on an overhang on the opposite side of the circle.

“Sure, why not,” she muttered and made her way across the room. She shot a backwards glance to where Entrapta still sat, furiously typing, and made her way up the staircase.

From this vantage point she could easily see the pattern on the chamber floor. It appeared to be an intricate series of circles surrounding a large figure with a winged helm and holding a large sword.

“Of course,” muttered Scorpia. “More She-ra.”

Turning around she was met without another relief in the wall behind the staircase she had just climbed up. This did not seem to form any figure, just concentric ovals one inside the other, in places overlapping. Smaller circles sat at irregular intervals on the larger lines. At the center was a large circular yellow crystal.

“Hey Entrapta,” Scorpia called. “I think I found one of those data-crystal-y things you like so much!” She stuck a claw into the indentation on the side of the gem and managed to wedge it free. The crystal popped free, but immediately slipped free of her pinchers. She juggled it for a second before managing to catch it balanced on her outstretched arms.

“Don’t touch anything,” she heard Entrapta shout back to her. “This place has a pretty robust security system.”

“Uh…too late?”

Suddenly, the chamber went dark. The lines forming the patterns on the walls and floor glowed an ominous red.

“Uh, Entrapta?”

“Time to go!” came the response from below.

Scorpia was already moving toward the stairs back down to the first floor, but the passageway was pitch black. She reached her arms out blindly, claw grazing the edge of the chamber wall. Her foot tripped over the top of the first step and she pitched forward into the darkness, barely catching herself before falling face first into….

Eyes. Pinpoints of bright white flicked into view in front of Scorpia and seem to float toward her in the darkness. She scrambles backwards back up the stairs.

“Entrapta! I’m stuck!”

“Get to the landing!”

Scorpia ran out to the area overlooking the main chamber and looked down. She winced. It was maybe a 15 foot drop down, definitely a risk of a broken leg.

She turned around and yelped as she saw the eyes had formed themselves into spider-creatures that were rushing toward her.

"Jump!” shouted Entrapta from below.

“Easy for you to say,” Scorpia called back, leaning back against the balcony as one of the spider legs reached out to swipe at her.

A purple tendril appeared suddenly and snaked around her torso, plucking her off the landing just as the spider launched a ropey web in her direction.

Entrapta’s hair set Scorpia down beside the other princess.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Scorpia asked, seizing Entrapta’s shoulders.

“With science!” Entrapta said with a giggle and started typing on the tracker pad again.

“Uh…’Trapta? I don’t think now is quite the time for an experiment?” The spider creatures had made their way down the and a swarm of beetle looking creatures were coming from a separate staircase on the other side of the chamber.

“Not an experiment,” said Entrapta as she continued to type furiously. “A failsafe!”

Suddenly the floor below them opened.

“Wuaaaaaah!” shouted Scorpia, grabbing for Entrapta as they both fell straight down a hidden hatch in the floor that seconds ago has been a relief of the tip of She-Ra’s sword.

They fell only about a foot before hitting a chute and starting to slide.

“Entrapta! Where is this taking us?”

“Outside! Hopefully! Also, possibly to the basement.”

“What’s in the basement?”

“I don’t know! But I would guess more security drones.”

Scorpia clung to Entrapta and prayed to Hordak that they would not be exploring a whole new part of this death trap. Thankfully the chute spat them out of the side of the pyramid and onto the jungle floor.

“Ugh,” said Scorpia, rolling onto her side and then slowly clambering to her feet. “Are you okay, Entrapta? That was a rough landing.”

“No injuries here! And this tracker pad has certainly been through worse.” Entrapta held up the device and gave it a gentle pat.

Scorpia looked up at the pyramid and…it was gone?

“What? Where did…?”

“I told you, it moves. I think we probably triggered a protective migration algorithm by messing with the tech inside.”

“Oh, Entrapta! I’m so sorry!” Scorpia sank down onto her knees. “I ruined everything.” She buried her head in her claws.

“What are you talking about? This was fantastic!”

“I touched something when I shouldn’t have and now the whole First One’s ruin is gone. I screwed up and now all of the technology you wanted is lost!”

“Don’t be silly,” said Entrapta, tabbing through something on the screen of the tablet. “That much First One’s tech is too complicated even for me to analyze in one sitting. I managed to download more than enough to keep me busy for months!”

Scorpia sighed. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

Entrapta paused, one finger hovering in the hair over the tracker pad. “Why would I say things to make you feel better?” she asked, curiously.

Scorpia opened her mouth to explain but then paused and laughed.

“You know you were wrong, ‘Trapta.”

“I highly doubt that. I miscalculate from time to time but is usually based on sound….”

“No, I mean you’re a pretty good friend. Thank you for saving me in there.”

Entrapta beamed at her. “You are welcome, Scorpia! Also thank you for this!” She held up the yellow data crystal with one hair tentacle, eyes wide and shining with excitement. “Oh, the things you and I will be able to accomplish little guy.”

***

Micah held the long handle out to Catra who just stared at the tool dubiously.

“It’s a hoe,” he said.

“You say that as though it will clarify something for me,” Catra replied.

“Well if you would take it and follow me you might find further explanation forthcoming.”

Catra made a face but accepted the hoe, following Micah out to the garden.

“Now that there are two of us, we can expand some more and try to grow some different things. In order to do that we need to break up the ground enough to plant the new stuff and that’s where the hoe comes in.” He demonstrated digging the sharp end into the dirt below.

Catra eyed it skeptically. “Can’t I just use my claws?”

Micah huffed and swung the hoe down again. “Oh, the vigor of youth. You make my back hurt just thinking about it. Yes, I suppose you could, but it’s only fun until you get one of those razors stuck in a root and it pulls out.”

Catra winced. “Point taken,” she said. She picked up the hoe and mimicked his action. The earth beneath her the hoe’s tip cracked and crumbled into soft, dark dirt. “What are we going to grow anyway?” she asked.

Micah’s eyes lit up. “These,” he said, reaching into his pouch and producing a small, red fruit with little seeds scattered on the outside. He held it out to Catra. “Try this.”

Catra accepted it and took a bite. Juicy, tart sweetness flooded into her mouth and without thinking she closed her eyes.

“Oh,” she whispered. “What is it?”

“A strawberry!” said Micah. “I found a grove of wild ones a few months back but they’re so temperamental to grow in a garden I didn’t want to spare the space trying to cultivate them here. But now that I have your help, I figure we can take the risk.”

“I will definitely help you grow more of those,” said Catra. “I am fully committed to the effort.”

Micah laughed. “Ever the solider.”

They worked for a few hours in relative silence. Eventually they reached the end of the area Micah had designated to the project.

Catra wiped sweat of from brow and leaned against the hoe. She glanced over at Micah and then back down at the dirt.

“Go on,” said Micah. “I’ve been feeling you thinking about saying something to me all morning. I’m honestly shocked you’ve shown this much restraint.”

Catra felt her cheeks flush. “After our conversation the other night you never really told me…. I was wondering what you were doing. In the other room. With magic?”

Micah’s brow furrowed. “An oversight on my part. It’s not a secret anymore. Come with me, we’re due for a break.”

Micah led Catra through the previously forbidden door in the back of the cabin.

It still took effort to quell the wave of fear when Catra saw the large bowl in the middle of the room with the gem hovering above it. There was no light emanating from the objects now but Catra could still see echoes of the spell pattern in her mind’s eye.

“Ever since I found myself stranded on this island, I have been trying to find a way out,” said Micah. Catra absently touched the bag tied to the belt at her hip where she had taken to keeping the Horde remote.  “I expect for all she raised you, Shadow Weaver never told you much about the magical arts?” Catra shook her head. “Even the strongest sorcerers need a focus to cast magic. That is usually in the form of a crystal. Mystacore had thousands of crystals for its sorcerers to use, but when I left, I only took two with me. One I used to make my staff, which of course was lost in the Battle of Half Moon. The other I…well let’s just say Light Spinner’s unorthodox lessons mean I’m seldom unprepared. I managed to hide it well enough that it came with me to Beast Island. I’ve been using it to try to contact my family back in Bright Moon.”

Catra froze. “Bright Moon?” she asked hoarsely.

“For the first several years I was pretty resoundingly unsuccessful.” Micah continued. “My magic with the one crystal wasn’t powerful enough to get across the physical distance between Beast Island and Bright Moon. But—you may not remember this—but a few months ago there was a big shift in the magical fields around Etheria.”

Catra felt her back stiffen. The portal….

“I have these…memories from that time. I don’t know if they are real or not, but they are very vivid.” Micah shook his head. “I saw my wife. My daughter. I was back in Bright Moon again. Then this Horde solider, who I guess was your friend Adora, came and told us the world we were in wasn’t real. At some point I had all my memories of that alternate world as well as this one. Then that universe collapsed and I was back here again.”

Micah shook himself. “I’m sure it all sounds crazy now. I see the look on your face.”

Catra had no idea what look she had on her face. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood.

“The point is that once I came back here, I tried to reach out to Angella again and for the first time I could sense her out there. It took me a long time to figure out what I was sensing and how, but eventually I realized that she was still trapped in a remnant of that other universe. And somehow—whether it’s a connection with Beast Island or my own attachment to Angie or the place itself—my magic can bridge the divide.” Micah furrowed his brow. “It’s faint. I think she can sense me, maybe see me, but we can’t speak. If I had more power, I might be able to bring her back here.” He looked back up at Catra. “So that’s what I have been working on.”

Catra nodded mechanically. “I…uh…wow,” she said. Her stomach turned. “I’m going to go get some air?” she said and turned to leave the room.

“Of course, sorry. I know you hate this magic stuff,” she heard Micah say behind her.

Catra burst out of the cabin and ran to the tree line. She fell to her knees and immediately vomited up the strawberry and stomach lining. She sat back on her heels, heart racing and wiped away the moisture that had sprung to her eyes with the heaving.

She stared out in thick jungle underbrush.

“Catra?” She heard Micah calling from behind her. “Are you okay? I didn’t think being in the room would upset you so much. I would have explained out here.”

Catra dug her claws into her palms and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Was it the mention of Adora? I know that’s still a tender topic for you.” He laid a hand on Catra’s shoulder.

“Back off old man!” Catra shouted batting his hand away and whirling around. “Who said you could touch me?” She held out one clawed hand.

Micah’s eyes were wide. Catra felt her stomach turn again as she recognized the same expression from when she told Adora she didn’t want her to come back to the Horde and brandished the stun baton at Scorpia.

“Not everything gets solved with a pathetic heart to heart!” she shouted. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about Adora just because you saw her in some dream world.”

Micah held up his hands defensively. “Catra, I don’t know what upset you, but please don’t take it out on me.”

“You upset me.” She snorted. “I knew you came from the princess’s world but seriously? Bright Moon. Husband to Queen Angella. I should have known better. You’re all the same, trying to get me to join your stupid Alliance. As though I would ever want to! As though I would just throw away everything I worked so hard for just because you all stole my friend, my mentor, my whole freaking life?”

To Catra’s surprise, Micah’s eyes went soft and sad instead of angry. “You don’t have to do this, Catra. I can’t stop you if you’re determined to self-destruct, but I also won’t stop giving you the chance to choose something better.”

“Aurgh,” Catra screamed. “I never asked for your forgiveness, old man.” She pushed past him and walked off toward the garden. Micah did not follow.

She could barely see where she was going, anger and tears clouding her vision. She stepped on a stake set into the ground to mark the start of the pea plants. Pain shot up from her foot and she let out a loud cry.

“What. The. Ahh!” She kicked the plant next to the stake, stomping it until the shoot was completely mashed and broken. Catra could see bits of green stuck to the bottom of her toes.

She gave out another anguished cry and reached out grapping a handful of pea shoots, ripping them out of the ground and throwing them as hard she could. They scattered around her. Catra grabbed handful after handful, first the pea shoots, then the carrots, then the squash. She clawed at the dirt throwing handfuls every which direction as she screamed.

Finally, somewhere near the tomato plants, she ran out of energy.

She came back to herself, chest heaving with sobs and desperate gasps for oxygen. Her hands and feet were cut and bleeding, covered in caked dirt. Dirt clung to the ripped-up knees of her leggings and debris coated her shirt and bare shoulders.

She stared at her hands and at the darkening sky above her. Then she stood stiffly and slowly walked back to the cabin.

When she reached the front door, she initially reached for the handle but then paused. She raised on dirty, bloody hand and knocked.

There was a pause and then the door swung open. Micah stood, backlit by the cooking fire that was blazing cheerfully in the corner.

“I destroyed the garden,” said Catra, flatly.

“I can see that,” Micah replied.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“There is a whole island if you want it. Try again.”

Catra looked off to the side and then back at Micah.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I forgive you,” said Micah. He steps back and let’s Catra into the cabin. “Let’s get you cleaned up and see to your hands.”

***

Catra dreamed.

She sits on the railing looking out over the sickly green yellow of the Fright Zone. Adora stands beside her, elbows propped up on the railing resting her chin on her hands.

“Not exactly the photo op that Bright Moon is, but it does have its own sort of polluted beauty,” says Adora.

“Bright Moon colors make me want to puke,” says Catra.

“To be honest that was my first thought when I went there.”

“That you wanted to puke?”

“That it would make you want to puke.” Adora tilts her head to one side and looks up at Catra. “I thought it all looked sort of…charming. I had never seen so many colors before in my life.”

They continue to take in the view in silence.

Adora is the one to break it. Of course.

“Why did you bring me here, Catra?” she asks.

“It’s our spot!”

“It was our spot. Before.”

“Why can’t it just be like that again,” said Catra. “When it was just the two of us against the world. Why can’t things be the way they were?”

Adora stares down at the pipes below them. “Maybe it could have been. At some point. But you kind of started burning down that bridge when you kidnapped my friends, threw me off a cliff, tried to destroy new home and then broke reality.”

“Can you blame me?” Catra’s voice sounds weak even to her own ears.

Adora looks up at her with the same sad, concern she had seen on Micah’s face. “Yes Catra. I blame you. You did this to yourself. I may have been the one to fracture our friendship, but you’re the one who split it open and poured salt in the wound.”

Catra turns her head away.

Adora reaches up and cups Catra’s cheek, bringing her back around to face Adora.

“I love you, Catra. But I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

Catra is crying again, annoyed because she has been doing this so. Much. Lately. She doesn’t trust her voice but nods. Adora presses a soft kiss on her forehead.

Catra woke up with aching palms and wet cheeks.

The next morning Catra climbed out of bed just before moonrise and went to sit at the table. She reached into her pouch and placed the Horde remote on the table in front of her. She folded her arms and waited.

Micah woke up an hour later. He sat up in the bed roll and looked over to where she sat.

“I was sent here to find someone.” Catra said. “Two someones, really.” She gestured to the device in front of her. “This is my ticket back to the Fright Zone if I succeed. If I push this button a boat will show up. If I have completed my assignment, we all go home. If I am alone, they may kill me, or they may just leave me here for the Island to finish me off.  No second chances.

“The people I’m supposed to find…I did wrong by them.” She shook her head slightly. “I did wrong by a lot of people, even before I crossed this line, but I…. If they’re still alive I owe them…something. A lot. But I don’t know if a trip back to the Fright Zone is the right thing.”

She looked over at Micah. “I’ve made so many bad decisions in the past…well, my entire life. I can’t be trusted. Part of me wants to complete the mission as fast as possible and run back to the Fright Zone. Part of me wants to push this button right now and just take away the choice forever. Most of me is just delaying the decision because I’m so sure whatever choice I make it will be the wrong one.”

She held out the remote. “Please take this. Push the button if you want. Hide it away. Use it to escape and leave me behind; that would honestly be what I deserve. Just…take the option away from me.”

Micah looked at the device blinking in Catra’s outstretched hand and then up at her face. He reached out and gently took it from her.

“How about this,” said Micah. “How about if we put this away for today while we replant the garden. And then tomorrow we will start to search for these people who you wronged. And we give them the choice.”

Catra looked down at the table and nodded.

“They get to decide what it right for them, Catra. But you get to decide what is right for you. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.

Catra glared at the table. She thought about Scorpia’s hopeful face in the Crimson Waste. She thought about Adora taking her hand in the First One’s ruin. She thought about walking down the hallway of the Fright Zone with the soldiers parting to let her pass.

She closed her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.  

“Well think about it. Now let’s get some breakfast before we have to assess the damage. If we’re expecting to have two more guests, we’re going to need to be able to feed them!”

***

“Oh man, these little fuzzy critters are delicious when they’re cooked!” Scorpia nibbled around the edge of the charred rodent-on-a-stick and paged through Entrapta’s survival manual. “I should have read this chapter ages ago!”

“It is quite a bit more pleasant after so many berries,” said Entrapta. She was holding one of the sticks with a hair tendril, eating absent mindedly as she tinkered with the tracker pad and the gem from the First One’s ruin. “I do miss my tiny food and fizzy drinks though.”

Scorpia studied the food for a moment frowning. “I mean in a way this is tiny food. After all the creatures are way smaller than any of the big fuzzy critters. Not that I think I would look at them as food so much as the other way around….”

“Ugh.” Entrapta let the tracker pad slip from her grasp. “I’m having a terrible time getting into this thing. I can tell it has so much potential but there’s something interfering with the signal.”

“Take a break,” said Scorpia around a mouthful. “My squad leader always used to say that sometimes you just need to turn your brain off and then back on again to try to solve a problem.”

“That sounds biologically unsound but metaphorically may not be a terrible idea for the moment. I do sometimes forget that the brain requires proper rest and nutrients to operate properly.”

Scorpia smiled and settled back against the log. Their fire crackled and the camp smelled of woodsmoke and cooked meat.

Off to one side there was a faint rustling.

Scorpia sat up. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

Entrapta pulled out her sack of data crystals and gave it a little shake. “Don’t worry, we’re ready.”

“Maybe you should let me have that,” said Scorpia. “I know you’re the brains of the operation, but I should probably take point in protection. I was trained for battle by the Horde, after all.”

“I did just fine with the last three creatures,” said Entrapta. “Besides, I don’t want to lose any of these.”

“I wouldn’t lose the data crystals. I just think I could pack more of a punch with them.”

“There is no need to pack more of a….”

Entrapta was interrupted by the snap of a branch off to the side of the camp. She and Scorpia turned sharply, Entrapta brandishing the bag of stones in front of her clutched it both hands.

“Woah! No need to bring out the bludgeon!” said a deep voice. There was a soft squeaking sound and a small creature, similar to the one that had graced Scorpia and Entrapta’s skewers, ran out of the underbrush, sat back on its heels and chittered angrily shaking a tiny paw up at Scorpia.

A figure stepped out of the darkness behind the rodent. He had dark hair pulled up into a top knot with speckles of grey throughout a long beard.

“Now, Fredrich. We’ve talked about the fact that humanoids eat all manner of things. You can’t judge them for following their nature any more than I can judge you for hiding nuts in my bedrolls.” The man looked up at the two princesses.

“Hello. You must be Scorpia and Entrapta. My name is Micah. I have been looking all over for you.”

***

Catra was working in the garden when she heard the party arrive. The fur on the tip of her tail stood on end as she heard Entrapta’s excited babbling pierce the hum of the jungle. A moment later she could hear the base tones of Scorpia and Micah’s voice, although she couldn’t make out any specific words. Her heart pounded and she tried to turn her attention back to the row she was replanting.

It took another fifteen minutes before they broke through the edge of the jungle and Catra could see the group making their way toward the cabin. She stood slowly and wiped her hand on her pants.

Scorpia spotted her first. She stopped walking and just stared at Catra.

Entrapta noticed Scorpia had stopped walking and turned back to where she was standing. She tracked her gaze and caught sight of Catra as well. Her eyes went big.

“Catra!” she shouted, bounding up to her. “How did you end up on Beast Island?”

“I…uh.” Catra cleared her throat as she watched Entrapta’s face shift through a series of different expression. Excitement followed by confusion and finally settling on wariness. “I was sent to bring you back to the Fright Zone.”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Scorpia, stepping in front of Entrapta. “Hordak wouldn’t have sent her on a rescue mission out here. Not expecting her to come back.”

“I don’t know that he expected me to come back,” Catra admitted. “But that is how I ended up here.”

“Catra,” said Micah softly from behind the princesses.

Catra sighed and looked down at her feet. “I wanted to…I asked Micah to help me find you because….” She cleared her throat again.

“I…uh screwed up,” she said. “I shouldn’t have turned on you, Entrapta and I…uh…shouldn’t have threatened you, Scorpia. There’s a lot of other stuff too, I know, but that was kind of the biggest one so…I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause.

Then Scorpia let out a loud sniff and scooped Catra up in her arms. “Oh, who am I kidding. I forgive you, Wildcat. I could never stay mad at you.”

Catra winced but accepted the hug with only minimal wiggling. When Scorpia set her back down on her feet she turned to Entrapta whose face had become unreadable.

“I thought you were my friend,” said Entrapta. “My data supported it, even though Adora said I couldn’t trust you.” She made a face. “I hate it when my data misleads me in these matters.”

Catra scratched the back of her neck.  “I don’t think your data was entirely wrong. I did want you as a friend. Even if my actions didn’t reflect that.”

Entrapta shook her head. “I have additional data now. A friend would not demand that another friend do something dangerous and then hit them with a stun baton when they refused. Unless I continue to misunderstand the parameters of friendship?” She glanced at Scorpia.

Catra winced. “No, you’re right. That was…not friendly of me.”

Entrapta studied her for a moment. “I will need to gather more data,” she said after a minute. Then she nodded to herself and walked in the direction of the cabin. Scorpia scrambled after her.

Micah watched them enter the cabin, Scorpia nearly smacking her head on the low-hanging entrance.

“We might need their help to add on to the place,” said Micah. “It’s getting a bit cramped.”

Catra nodded, still watching the entrance to the cabin.

“How are you doing?” asked Micah.

“I’m going to finish planting this row,” said Catra. She knelt back down onto the soft dirt and set back to work.

***

Catra did not return to the cabin until the moons were starting to set and it became too dim to see. She could hear the rumble of conversation and laughter punctuated a few high pitched chitters from Fredrich as she paused at the front door. When she pushed through, she was greeted to the group of them gathered around the table, the room lit by the cheery crackle of the cook fire in the corner.

“…the crystals used by the sorcerers of Mystacore are in fact tiny data crystals mined from the interior of the planet. That’s how they can be channeled to form effects on the natural world of Etheria, similarly to the princesses with their runestones. They serve as a non-specific focus.” Entrapta, who seemed to have turned her hair into a chair, was leaning over the table scribbling furiously. Scorpia was seated beside her looking in the direction of the drawing but Catra could see her eyes were glazed over as she was mechanically polishing off a bowl of stew.

“I never thought of it like that,” muttered Micah, peering over her shoulder.

“Most Etherians don’t!” exclaimed Entrapta. “But I have devoted my life to figuring out the integration of magic and technology, specifically in how it relates for First One’s tech. Tadaaaah!”

Catra skirted around the edge of the room and helped herself to her own bowl of stew.

“That…that looks extraordinary, but can it really work?” asked Micah.

“I don’t know!” Entrapta let out a loud laugh. “I can’t wait to find out!”

“Did you see this?” said Micah, turning to where Catra was leaning against the wall, eating.

“I learned a long time ago that I need Entrapta to explain her diagrams in very small words if I’m going to have any idea what she’s on about,” said Catra.

“She thinks she can use this data crystal they found to bolster the signal from my casting! This might be the piece I have been missing to finally bring back Angie!”

Catra glanced up from her food. Micah was looking at her, eyes bright with excitement. Entrapta was still studying the drawing she had…apparently made directly onto the dinner table. Scorpia was looking at her with a furrowed brow.

“If my calculations are correct,” said Entrapta. “We just need to find a means of stabilizing alt-Etheria and using the data crystal we found at the First One’s ruin we should have the power to punch through and access the stranded consciousness. And now that I have seen Micah’s laboratory, I know what has been interfering with my ability to interpret the data and I downloaded from the run, and can start to analyze it in earnest!”

“That’s wonderful,” said Catra. “Just be careful. Some of Entrapta’s initial attempts can be a bit...explosive.”

“Oh, explosions won’t be the problem here,” said Entrapa, she continued to draw. “The real risk will be in re-fracturing our reality by bridging the divide and ejecting Angella’s consciousness from alt-Etheria.”

Catra paused with the spoon halfway up to her mouth. Scorpia and Micah both turned to look at Entrapta.

Entrapta looked up. “Well obviously we would run simulations before we would let that happen!”

“Sensible,” said Micah. “Did I tell you about my first attempt at a wind spell because wow, let me tell you I could have done with some simulations before jumping into that one….”

Catra placed her empty bowl near the rest of the washing up and walked back out of the cabin into the night air.

A moment later the door opened and closed again and Scorpia came to stand beside her. They stood there in silence for a long minute before Scorpia spoke.

“He doesn’t know, does he.”

Catra looked away. “Not unless you two just told him.”

“We didn’t. Only because Entrapta’s too caught up in the science of how Angella got trapped in the other universe to think about her own role in all of this, much less yours. But it might only be a matter of time.”

“And you? Are you going to tell him?”

Scorpia frowned. “He deserves to know, Catra. Don’t you think?”

“Why?” Catra threw up her arms and walked a few steps away from the front of the cabin. “It won’t change anything. He’ll just hate me, and I’ll be all alone again.”

“Maybe he won’t? From what I can gather he already knows a lot about your past.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“He…he has his reasons for giving me the benefit of the doubt. I doubt that extends to destroying his family and almost ending the universe as we know it.”

Scorpia sighed. “I don’t deny it’s a tall order. But I would think after everything that’s happened you would have learned that avoiding your problems just makes them worse in the end.”

Catra turned away. “Are you going to tell him?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Not yet anyway.”

“Thank you, Scorpia.”

Scorpia shook her head and disappeared back into the cabin.

***

Catra dreamed.

She-ra stands over her as she clings to the wall of the cliff. The light of the collapsing alternate world streams up around her lifting her golden hair upward toward a sky filled with tiny dots of light.

“Adora!” Catra shouts. “I’m slipping!” She feels her fingers losing purchase and tries to dig in her claws. She’s met with solid stone.

She-ra walks to the edge of the cliff and looks down. “You wanted this,” she shouts above the roar. “Why should I save you?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it to go this far.”

She-ra kneels at the edge of the cliff. “But it did go this far.”

“I’ll fix it, Adora. I promise. Together we can fix it, like you said. Just help me, please!”

“It’s too late, Catra.” She-ra shakes her head. “Lives have been lost. You can’t fix it anymore.”

“Adora!” Catra feels her fingers slip again.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” She-ra says as she stands. “I really am going to miss you.”

Catra’s fingers grasp nothing and she feels herself fall.

Catra gasped and sat bolt upright. The cabin was silent aside from Micah’s soft snores and Scorpia muttering something about ration bars.

Catra lay back down and watched the ceiling until morning.

***

“Explain it again more slowly,” Micah was asking when Catra re-entered the cabin from gardening a few days later.

Entrapta huffed. “It’s just a minor setback. You should still be able to talk with her, no problem.”

“I don’t just want to talk to my wife, Entrapta. I want to get her out of…alt-Etheria, or whatever we’re calling it, and back home with our daughter.”

Catra ignored them and poured herself a cup of water just as Scorpia came rushing through the door.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll fix it I promise,” Scorpia interrupted, slamming the door behind her.

Catra sighed. “What happened?”

“Look I just don’t think I’m cut out for anything too delicate.” Scorpia snapped a claw a few times.

“You broke the tomato plant?”

“Maybe I should go back to clearing a new patch?”

Catra pinched the bridge of her nose. “We have enough new patches, Scorpia.”

“What about sending her out hunting?” said Entrapta. “She was very good at getting us tasty tiny critters to eat.”

Fredrich chittered angrily from his perch on one of the shelves behind Micah’s head.

“What if she brought back a bird?” suggested Micah.

Fredrich seemed to consider this with a tilt of his head and then chittered a bit more agreeably.

“Sure! A bird!” said Scorpia. Her eyes darted around the room. “I can do that. I think.”

Catra sighed. “You were doing fine planting and turning over the ground. You can go back and I’ll take over pruning.”

“Oh, thank you Catra. I promise I won’t let you down. Again. Anyway. What’s going on in here?”

“We’ve managed to set up the means to create a temporary bridge between our world and alt-Etheria,” said Entrapta.

“Is that really what we’re calling it?” Scorpia stage whispered to Catra who just shrugged.

“But…?” prompted Micah.

Entrapta let out of a huff of air. “But it’s pretty unstable and we still have not managed to find a means of stabilizing alt-Etheria if we bring Angella back to this plane.” She pointed a hair tendril at Micah. “But also I have not finished going through all of the data from the First One’s ruin so maybe if you were just a bit more patient.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry Entrapta. It’s just we’re so close. I haven’t been this hopeful since I first realized I could reach Angie when the other world collapsed.

“Just because we haven’t found the answer yet doesn’t mean we won’t discover it soon. Science is an iterative process. You can’t give up just because for first simulation doesn’t work the way you expected it.”

“This is our eighteenth simulation, Entrapta.”

“And we are so much closer than when we started. Come on!” She grabbed Micah’s arm and dragged back into the workroom, slamming the door behind them.

“We should head back out too,” said Catra, leading Scorpia back into the garden.

“They’re getting awfully close to being able to talk to Angella,” said Scorpia, settling down at one end of squash row.

Catra went over to inspect the damage to the tomatoes. “Mmmhmm.”

“Entrapta told him about the portal,” said Scorpia. “Not your part in it, I asked her not to, but she explained her own. He took it well.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” muttered Catra.

“It’s only a matter of time before he finds out, Catra. You can’t really be so far in de.”

“Once he knows what I did, he’s going to turn on me. Just like everyone does. I’ll lose him! I’ll lose everything. All over again!”

“You lied about Shadow Weaver and we saw what that got you. You lied about Entrapta and now here you are. Maybe you should try just being honest for a change?”

Catra gave a short laugh. “And what are you going to do when he kicks me out of his little oasis here? Come protect me from the horrors of Beast Island like you did for Entrapta? Like you did for me in the Crimson Waste? That’s right, because can just choose to do whatever you want. You’ve never had to deal with loss the way I have. You’ve never had to risk anything because no one is going to risk pissing off the Scorpion princess who happens keeps slumming it with the Horde for no apparent reason.”

Scorpia jerked back as though Catra had physically hit her.

“Is that really what you think of me, Catra?” She shook her head. “You know, I thought I could do this,” she said. “I thought I could just forgive you and let things go back to the way they were. But I forgot that the way things were sucked. I’m sick of waiting for you to stop complaining everything that you don’t have and see what is right in front of you!”

Scorpia turned on her heel and started to march back toward the cabin.

“Scorpia, wait!” Catra jumped up and ran in front of her holding both hands up in a stopping gesture. “I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

Scorpia froze in surprise.

“I’m…what?”

“You’re right. You’ve always been there for me and I’ve always been terrible for you and I…I’m trying to change. I swear, I’m better I…just….” Catra too a deep breath. “I’m so scared.”

Catra closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them Scorpia was standing in front of her still waiting.

“When he finds out—if I tell him—he’s going to ask me why I did it. What I was thinking. If I tell him the truth, it will be that when activated the portal, I didn’t care who died or who was hurt. And when I came back and found out that Queen Angella had been lost trying to save the world my first thought was victory. That after everything, after Adora had won yet again, at least I had this one triumph. At least I had left my mark on their perfect little princesses and their perfect little world.”

Scorpia seemed to be looking at something over Catra’s shoulder.

“And now?” Scorpia asked. “How do you feel about it now?”

Catra shook her head.

“Yes Catra. I suppose I would like to know the answer to that question too.”

Catra whirled around to see Micah standing at the edge of the garden holding the cup of water she had left on the table in the cabin.

Catra’s eyes widened. “How much of that did you hear?” she whispered.

“Enough,” said Micah.

“I….” Catra’s mouth worked on nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Catra shot a frantic look to Scorpia. She had no idea what she looked like but Scorpia looked immediately alarmed.

“Catra?” said Scorpia. “Take a breath. Let’s talk this through

“After everything, Catra, why can’t you just tell me the truth?” Micah asked.

Catra looked away. “It’s another long story.”

Micah spread his arms wide. “When have I ever not had time for you?”

Catra squeezed her eyes closed.

“I…I can’t,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

“Of course you did,” said Micah. “I know why you did it but….” He shook his head. “I need some time,” he said.

“Micah, please,” Catra looked up as he turned to walk away. She held out one hand toward him.

Micah paused.

“Please?” begged Catra.

Micah shook his head again. “I need some time,” he repeated and walked away.

Catra couldn’t breathe. There was a vice around her ribs, and she could suck the air past it. Her breath came in short gasps and her vision was starting to tunnel inwards.

You’re having a panic attack, she heard Micah say. Just focus on your left foot.

“NO!”

Catra pushed past Scopria and ran back toward the cabin, throwing open the front door. Inside her vision was clearing slightly but the feeling of sucking air through a straw was unchanged. She grasped the edge of the table and tried to slow her breathing but to no avail.

There was a sudden glow behind the closed work room door.

Catra lunged for the door and pulled it open.

Entrapta was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the large bowl of water with her visor down and a small metal tube emitting a flame.

“Oh, Catra! Do you know if Micah is coming back soon? I think we can run the next simulation in a few hours.”

“Send me in!” Catra said, lurching forward. “Send me in to alt-Etheria.”

Entrapta turned off the flame and pushed back her visor, blinking at Catra through her goggles.

“That’s not a good idea. The bridge is still relatively unstable and, as I was saying this morning, we still haven’t solved the problem of needing an ongoing consciousness to hold alt-Etheria open.”

“I don’t care, you have to send me. I’ll…I’ll figure it out. I’ll…do something, anything.”

Entrapta looked nervously from Catra to the door. “Did something happen?” she asked slowly. “You seem distraught.”

Catra grabbed Entrapta by the shoulders and lifted her up into the air.

“I’ve never done one good thing in my entire life and now I’m going to lose everything again and I can’t. Entrapta, I can’t. You have to send me in there. It’s the only chance that I have fix this. To fix anything.”

Entrapta stared at her.

“Please, Entrapta. Do this for me and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

Entrapta furrowed her brow. “Well…we have run enough simulations to say that the bridge should be stable to send one mind across.” Catra set her down and she started to gather up various bits of equipment. “I’ve been wanting to test this for ages and Micah keeps insisting on running further safety simulations.” She grabbed some sort of metal bowl with several circles on it and started plugging various tubes in at various points. “Which I understand is proper protocol and after what happened with the initial portal probably only makes good sense, but this time I know the theoretical risks and they are really far less statistically likely. Put this on your head.” She handed Catra the metal device.

Catra tried to put it on but her headpiece got in the way. With a deep sigh she removed the mask and set it aside before placing the bowl on her head.

“There is not much of alt-Etheria left,” said Entrapta. “So, it won’t be hard to find her. Time is a little different there so you can’t dawdle. As I have calculated it you have about two hours and ten minutes before the bridge becomes too unstable to travel back, but that might be off by a bit so I wouldn’t push it. And you won’t be able to bring her back here yet; there has to be at least one mind there to stabilize the alternate universe and prevent it from collapsing with our world.”

Catra sat down on the floor. “Just do it,” she muttered.

Entrapta hit the switch.

There was a flash of white light. The world around Catra disappeared.

***

Catra is sitting in the middle of a field. There is a large glowing yellow orb in the sky, blindingly bright like the brightest moon Catra has ever seen. It lights up the field an iridescent green with speckles of purple and yellow flowers as far as she can see in front of her.

Behind her, about 100 feet back, is a forest; dense trees with interlocking branches that is reminiscent of the Whispering Woods.

The whole world is silent. There is no sound of wind moving across the grass or rustling the leaves. There are no insects buzzing in the bushes or birds chirping in the trees. In the absence of sound Catra can hear her own heartbeat pounding in her chest and the rush of blood through her ears.

She looks down at herself to sees both hands clearly defined. She runs one hand down the skin of the right side of her face and releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She doesn’t know what she had expected.

She stands and turns in a circle. She shields her eyes with her hand, blocking out some of the bright light. She can feel the heat from the orb beating down and beads of sweat are starting to form in a line across her forehead.

Far in the distance she can make out a faint pink smudge on the horizon.

She glances back at the inviting cool shade of the forest, but she shakes her head and starts forward.

For a long time, she walks without feeling like she is moving at all. The smudge doesn’t seem to change at all in size or definition.

Once again you let your emotions get the best of you. The admonishment comes in Shadow Weaver’s voice. No guarantee you can even find her, much less in the time allotted. No plan for when you do. No wonder you’ve never been more than second best.

“Shut up, witch,” Catra mutters and just keeps walking forward.

Eventually the smudge does start to take on the form of a figure. Then the figure begins to develop details; a tall slender stature, long hair, large delicate pink wings.

The field ends where the figure is standing, breaking off to form a steep cliff into nothingness. Angella is standing with both arms outstretched in front of her, the sword of protection lying flat on her upturned palms.

As Catra approached, Angella turns to her.

“I wasn’t expecting it would be you,” she says.

“That makes two of us.”

Angella narrows her eyes. “Why? Taunting me doesn’t seem your style. Not with Adora still on Etheria. Unless you trying to get to her through me?”

Catra gazes at the sword in Angella’s arms. It looks…incorporeal.

“I’m not here to taunt you. Or Adora.” She looks up at Angella. “I’m here to fix this.”

Angella raises her eyebrows. “Is that even possible?”

“I think so.” Catra frowns and nods. “I think it’s the only way.”

“There are always choices, child. There is a whole big world out there that needs healing. Sometimes it’s easier to make the big sacrifice than face the day-to-day of trying to make up for your mistakes.”

“I don’t think there is any making up for my mistakes,” says Catra. “I tried to be better, but I’m just…not. I’m not good.” She looks up and meets Angella’s eyes. “But maybe I don’t have to be bad,” she says and reaches out to take the sword handle.

For all it appears wispy and faint, the touch of the metal feels solid. It’s cold, an aching sort of cold that runs up Catra’s arms and forms an aching pain across the muscles of her back. She seizes the sword with both hands and pulls it from Angella’s grasp.

Angella’s eyes widen and immediately she starts to fade out, looking much like the sword had a moment ago. “Catra, no! This was my burden.”

Catra shakes her head. “My fault,” she grits out. “My burden.” She sucks in air and clings to the sword. “You know you’re a lot less terrifying than the Horde made you out to be. You’re lucky I won’t be around to out you when you get back.”

Angella’s laugh lingers as her form vanishes and Catra is left standing on the cliff, clutching the sword of protection.

“Well here we are,” she says to no one. “I suppose I might have expected it would end like this.” She looks around. “I always thought Adora would be here at least.”

She sits on the edge of the cliff, feet dangling over the edge.

Catra waits.

***

Time passes.

Catra isn’t sure how much time. After a while it all seems to run together. The bright orb in the sky doesn’t move. The nothingness before her doesn’t change.

The pain from the sword seems to fade out after a while. Eventually her arms go numb, which initially is a relief, but eventually becomes a discomfort of its own. Then that too seems to fade from awareness.

Initially, she has moments of panic thinking about eternity here. She has moments of regret. Moments of anger. But everything seems dulled and the moments fade and eventually it’s just Catra and sword and the void. And that’s okay.

And then one day (are there even days here?) there is a hand on her shoulder and Catra looks up and sees Micah standing beside her.

“No,” she says. Her voice sounds hoarse and cracked. Her fingers grip the sword.

“It’s okay, kitten,” says Micah. “You can let go now.”

“I can’t,” says Catra. “This is all I have.”

Micah sits down beside her and places a hand on her arm. “That has never been true.”

Tears leak from her eyes. “It feels true.”

“I know. But we’re working on that, right? It’s getting better. And it would be a shame to give up now.”

Catra frowns down at the sword in her hands. “But who is going to stay here.” She looks up sharply. “I won’t give it to you. You can’t take it from me!”

“I won’t,” Micah assures her. “Give it to Sarah.”

“Who is…?” There is a metallic clanking and she turns to see one of Entrapta’s bots sitting on her other side with two arms extended. “How?”

Micah just smiles. “Entrapta figured it out. I’ll explain later. But we’re running out of time. The bridge is still fragile.”

Catra nods and lets the sword onto the outstretched arms of the bot. The pain she had stopped noticing vanishes in a wave of bliss. Catra sways and Micah reaches out a hand to steady her.

Micah takes her hand in his. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

Catra opened her eyes to see the familiar ceiling of the cabin. She was back lying on the bed in the main room.

She turned to her side and saw Micah lying beside her, their hands intertwined. He was wearing the funny little metal hat Entrapta had placed on her head to send her into alt-Etheria. His eyes were slowly blinking open.

“They’re waking up! I think he did it!”

Catra turned her head back toward the rest of the room. Scorpia and Entrapta were sitting beside the bed staring at them. Scorpia was chewing on the tips of her claws.

“Scorpia?” asked Catra. “How long was I….”

“Almost two weeks,” said a familiar, polished voice from behind the two princesses. Catra looked up to see Angella towering behind them. “It took that long for Entrapta and my husband to figure out an alternative consciousness to hold alt-Etheria stable.”

“Her name is Sarah!” said Entrapta.

Catra swung her legs around to sit up.

“Uh…hi. You…uhm…made it out.”

“Thanks to you,” said Angella. “Not discounting of course that I wouldn’t have needed rescuing if you hadn’t activated the portal in the first place.”

Catra scratched the back of her neck. “I’m…uh…sorry about that.”

Angella crouched down in front of her and took Catra’s hands in hers. She looked directly into Catra’s eyes and said, “It was a very brave and very foolish thing that you did just now. And I am very grateful. You have given me my family back. I forgive you, Catra.”

Catra looked away and nodded.

Angella smiled and stood again, ducking slightly to avoid hitting her head on one of the lower beams of the cabin.

Catra felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Micah sitting up on the bed behind her.

“Micah,” she said, eyes suddenly filling with tears as she remembered their last conversation.

Micah just smiled and shook his head. “I was always going to forgive you, kitten. You just didn’t give me the chance.”

“I…I couldn’t….”

“I know. We’re going to work on that, okay?”

Catra nodded, not trusting her voice, and let him pull her into a tight hug. She buried her head in his shoulder and told herself no one would notice all the tears soaking into the fabric of his cloak.

***

Catra dreamed.

She is sitting on the beach of Beast Island watching the moons set.

Adora walks up beside her and sits down. For a while they sit in silence.

“What next?” Adora asks.

Catra turns to look at her. “I’m so tired,” she says. “After all this…Adora, I’m just so tired.”

Adora nods. “You’ve done well. You deserve a rest.”

Catra sighs and rests her head on Adora’s shoulder. Adora reaches up and strokes her fingers through Catra’s hair.

“It’s not over though,” says Adora after another long pause. “Like Angella said, it might be easier to just take on the big sacrifice. But you’re back in the world now. Redemption doesn’t happen overnight.”

Catra sits up slowly. “I just want it to be done,” she says.

“I know,” says Adora. “But there is more work to do.”

Catra looks down at her hands. “I tried…to be better. But I went too far before. Even if I keep trying forever…can you forgive me? Do you think you could ever forgive me? After everything.”

Adora turns to her. “I do forgive you, Catra. But I’m not Adora. I’m just the part of you that you used to punish yourself.” She snorted. “I’d say I’m arguably the more important person to forgive you given that I’m really you but…. If you want to know if Adora can forgive you, I think you are going to have to ask her yourself.”

Catra’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Adora reached out and pulled Catra���s head back onto her should.

“That’s okay. Rest now. Etheria will be there when you’re ready.”

Fin