#you thought i was dead huh...? well you were wrong! i was simply suspended in time

[vebokki]

revived to post this

[mnictasbcl]

Don’t Think

Here is my next story for @connor-sent-by-cyberlife’s #dbhghostsinthemachine challenge, prompt OCT 6: Data Missing. 

Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson

Tags: Memory Loss, Partial amnesia, Swearing, Fainting, Blood and injury, self injury, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Amanda was gone, destroyed. But the Zen Garden was a vital part of his mind. Connor couldn’t expect for things to be normal once it was gone, not when the garden had been intricately linked with his core memories.

Read it on AO3! Or, read below.

Connor felt normal as he blinked back to awareness on the stage, staring out at the sea of androids. Markus was making his speech, the Jericho members standing on the other corners of the stage. The androids were free.

Yes, and he’d helped them. Had helped by deviating, helping them out of the sinking freighter, proposed the plan to go to the Cyberlife Tower—

He jolted, as if a current had been sparked in his brain, shocking him. Cyberlife Tower—

It happened again. Oh, it was unpleasant, and he didn’t feel like facing it again. Maybe it was a glitch, after all he had just destroyed a big part of his program. He’d had to avoid thinking about those words, for now.

Meanwhile there was celebrating to do. Not with the others, no, he couldn’t stand with them and act like he hadn’t almost shot their leader in the back of the head. Instead, he celebrated his newfound deviancy, freedom, by walking into the cold Detroit streets and going nowhere in particular.

Because he was free. They all were now. Free to do whatever he pleased. Free from orders, free from Amanda, free from…

What did he do before? Work, right. At the DPD—

Connor opened his eyes and found he’d fallen to his knees, clutching his head. Huh, it had happened again. His LED spun, processing the facts. Certain words caused blinding pain.

Pain. Well, he guessed that solved that question: androids didn’t feel pain, but deviants sure did. He pinched his arm and yelped.

“Fuck.” He swore, and the pain in his head tripled.

   …………………………………………………………………………………………………

 Connor awoke lying on the cold pavement of a street in Detroit. Cold snow was beginning to seep into his trousers, uncomfortable and wet, biting at his artificial skin. He pushed himself to his knees, hand ghosting over the side of his head. His hand came away wet and slick with fresh blue thirium.

He must have fallen, then. It was the day of the Revolution- maybe he’d partied too hard?

Yeah, right. He was on his own in the middle of a street, no one in sight, the only signs of life the distant cries and cheers of the celebrating androids far, far away.

He’d probably just passed out, for no reason. Maybe he was malfunctioning.

Connor blinked, stared at his hands for a moment longer before wiping them over his suit jacket. It was a shitty jacket anyway, and goddamn waterproof.

He groaned, pain sparking back up with every swear he internalised. Why was swearing causing him so much pain? Or thinking about the DPD—

He railed his fists against the snow, over and over and over, until his hands were numb, and dents caved in his thumb. Well, that hurt. That hurt a lot.

But at least the ache in his head had subsided. He concluded that it was down to thinking. About specific things, but he didn’t know what these things were until it was too late.

Mission: Don’t think.

So, he continued again to mindlessly walk, hands hanging limp and useless at his sides, blue blood trickling down the side of his face. What a sight to see, to behold, an android in his own ruin, eyes dead ahead, the prospect of merely existing a struggle.

Evening became night. Night became early morning. At some point, the cheers died down.

The first time someone called him, he muted the ringtone of any incoming calls, before eventually blocking them all. He didn’t need to think. Couldn’t. Just had to walk and hope the glitch would fix itself.

When he stumbled over a curb, he decided it was time to take a break. An unthinking break, mind you. Simply sitting on the curb by a closed-up shop which, upon inspection, looked a whole lot—

What was it now? The place with its chicken-y name, its rusted metal door, looking at the table beside it sent him tearing out handfuls of his hair, screaming and screaming until—

      …………………………………………………………………………………………………

 He awoke in a different place, with different clothes and aching hands.

Connor stared up and saw a ceiling. Felt the soft plush mattress beneath him, the covers draped over his shivering body.

The sight of the room caused no pain, so he dared to sit up. He was in a house; someone had bandaged his hands and his head had stopped leaking thirium. It was mostly empty, save for the chair in the corner, some artwork, and a closed closet at the other end of the room.

Peace would not last long. Someone knocked on the door, and before long it was pushed open roughly. A dog ran into the room, big and panting and—

Errorerrrorerror

DATA MISSING

Connor clasped his hands over his head again, turning away from the dog, who whimpered sadly at his apparent rejection.

But soon the stimuli was gone, door closed shut, dog far away. He dared to peek out between his fingers, and saw—

Shaggy grey hair, stripy shirt, concerned blue eyes—

A hoarse static sound tore from his throat, error messages beginning to pile up in his vision in their dozens. Something was wrong, something upon seeing the things outside, then the dog, and then this man—this man was the culmination of all his problems. Error, error, error, data missing, data missing.

He tried to close the errors, but they multiplied infinitely over his software. So he tried to push away the missing data.

Warning.

Delete damaged data file?

Connor flicked through the file. Images of the man with the grey hair, the DPD, his dog, Chicken Feed—but they were all broken, parts of each image, each file, each dialogue received, torn apart. All clustering together in one big mess, causing any recollection to make him suffer.

Delete Hank.exe?

He paused. That… that was the man’s name? Hank. Hank. Despite the pain it caused him, he kept thinking of the word. Over and over and over until the errors were gone and, in their place, just as red and blinding read:

HANK

This file seemed at the forefront of his memory, no wonder it had been damaged if something had happened to his mind. It seemed important.

If he deleted it, he would forget this man forever.

…but if he didn’t, would it cause him to feel these horrible things every time he even thought about the man?

Connor closed his eyes. There had to be a way. When Amanda tried to control him, take over his body, he’d found an emergency exit and clawed his way out.

So that meant he didn’t have to delete this file, but he didn’t have to live with it either. If it was damaged, maybe he could fix it. The error was missing data: so he had to get back that data.

He reached out blindly, grabbing a hold of the man’s arm, who stumbled forwards at the rough contact. His skin peeled back, white chassis revealed but he couldn’t interface, couldn’t—

It was a human. Well, he supposed this human couldn’t be bad, then. He added ‘good’ to the list, hoping to repair some missing data.

Being good meant that he hadn’t tried to stop the revolution. Helped with the Revolution.

Helped with the Revolution meant friend.

Hank. Good. Helped with revolution. Friend. Friend. Friend.

Of course, he was his friend. He’d got over his hatred of androids, helped him with cases, even went so far as to risking his job so he wouldn’t lose his life. He helped him disguise to blend into Jericho, despite not agreeing with his cause, and they’d—

Connor groaned, eyes snapping open. Forcing himself to look the man in the face and take in his features one by one.

“Who are you?” He finally grit out.

The man, despite his initial shock, sat down beside Connor on the bed and patted his knee. “I’m Hank, Connor. Your, uh, partner at the DPD?”

“You don’t work at the DPD anymore, and I helped Markus with the android revolution.”

Hank laughed. “Yeah, I got suspended for a while. And I don’t know about you. But… that’s where we met.”

Connor closed his eyes, opened the memory file on their meeting. Jimmy’s bar.

“You swore at me and not long after threw me against a wall when we first met. I do not understand. If we are friends, we must have met somewhere else.”

“Nah, that’s just my dashing first impression, Con—”

“Con. What is that?”

“That’s what I call you, sometimes, when you’re not being an asshole.”

“Am I usually an asshole?”

“Depends on the day.”

“Huh. It appears my files see you as an asshole sometimes, too.”

Hank snorted. “Whatever. So… what’s exactly… uh, happening? I found you outside Chicken Feed trying to tear yourself a new haircut and…”

“My memory files about you are damaged. I am trying to piece them back together.”

“Oh. So you don’t, uh, fuckin’ remember me, then?”

“No, I have memories of you. They’re just damaged and need repair.”

“That’s what the cryptic questions are for.”

“Exactly. So… you are my friend. We are both assholes sometimes.”

“Yeah, basically. Anything else you need to know?”

He thought long and hard for a moment. “Yes. I seem to have everything apart from one vital thing… something in the middle, it is missing,” he gestured, “and until I fix it, looking at you causes great pain.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It is… I do not understand what it is to do with. I have every memory of you now, but—it is your logistics. Who you are. To me.” Connor cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the bedcovers. “Who are you? I thought classifying as a friend was enough. But this seems inconclusive, not complex enough for these human emotions I seem to be feeling. Relationships are not meant to be so linear, so…”

“Defined? What are you getting at, Con?”

“It’s that. Con. What you call me, this… affection. How you seemed to care, to bring me off the street when I was causing damage to myself…”

“Well, uh, yeah, I care. And we were meant to be meeting up there after you finished partying with your friends.”

“What were we going to do, exactly?”

“Uh… catch up? Maybe work out what the fuck you’re going to do now. And…” Hank looked away. “Nevermind.”

“No, there’s something else.”

He shook his head. “Asshole. Fine. It was… it was… Fuck, just let me show you, okay?”

When Connor nodded, Hank leant forwards and wrapped him into a warm embrace. He froze at the contact, words flashing across his vision, Hank, Hank, Hank, friend, friend—

Data Restored

And breathed a sigh of relief before hugging him back. Hank wasn’t friend, Hank was… Hank was warmth and comfort, bluntness with kindness tucked underneath, he was the gentle giant of his large dog, caring actions covered up with a ‘fuck you’.

He was Hank. And that was enough.

[apocryphalfemme]

Designatory Date Night

Well, I lied.  I finally played Mass Effect: Andromeda a week or so back and I’m here to report that I love Vetra Nyx so completely that I was inspired to write some simply brain-rotting fluff.  (An entire two years ahead of schedule, I know!)  Und so, I give you Designatory Date Night.  Read it below the cut, or on AO3.

Love,

Clithroe

““Pathfinder?”

“Yeah, SAM?”

“If I may ask, what is it you’re thinking of doing?”

“I’m thinking...”  As she recalled her earlier train of thought, Ryder’s face lit up.  “I’m thinking I’ve got an idea for the best date night, ever.””

Or

Ryder leverages the privileges of her job to show Vetra a good time.

“Anwar, what the hell am I looking at?”

“It appears to be a... a solar system, Pathfinder,” Suvi murmured.  “The solar system, in fact.  I believe we’ve found Avaarus.”  Ryder drummed her fingers against her console, brimming with nervous anticipation. 

“But it’s in the middle of nowhere.  We’re not even in Heleus space anymore, right Kallo?” she asked.

“Confirmed, Pathfinder.  We’re in deep space, just a ways outside of home.  I should mention that the next known celestial cluster is the Boone Traverse and we’re not getting anywhere near there without a mass relay,” Kallo said.  “Whatever this is, it’s a lone entity.”

“So... what?” Ryder breathed, disbelieving.  “Heleus just lost an entire star and a handful of planets?  Did it wander off when the angara weren’t looking or something?” 

“Ryder,” Suvi piped up. “It’s possible that what we’re seeing here is one of the more dramatic effects of the Scourge.  If Avaarus really was originally located where angaran maps say, then the system may have been wholly ejected from the cluster as the Scourge spread.”  Their pilot chirped an incredulous noise.

“Is that even possible?”

“Come on Kallo, two whole years in Andromeda and you’re still asking questions like that?” Suvi teased.  Kallo cut back with something sarcastic, but Ryder wasn’t listening; her attention had been caught by what was orbiting their runaway star.

“Okay, no, that can’t be right.  Avaarus is supposed to have four orbiting bodies.  That,” she pointed, “is at least seven.”  That got their attention.  Kallo and Suvi’s conversation petered out as they each ran their own, individual counts of this bizarre, seemingly truant system.  Kallo was first to break the silence.

“With eyes alone, I’m actually counting nine, Pathfinder”

“I think I’m seeing thirteen,” Suvi reported.  SAM’s vox crackled to life over the bridge speakers, only to prove them all wrong.

“Pathfinder, there are at least sixteen distinguishable celestial bodies orbiting this star.”  Kallo gaped, shocked into silence.  Suvi giggled, a tad manic.  Ryder swore.

“Holy shit.  SAM, what… are they?  Where did they come from?”

“The majority appear to be planets in varying states of compositional decay, Pathfinder.  Preliminary scans indicate that many may have once been capable of bearing life.  Cross-referencing with what remains of old angaran star charts and the inferable ejection path of the star Avaarus, I believe it is possible that we have discovered what happened to several planets that the angara report as having mysteriously disappeared over the last several centuries.”

“Holy shit,” Ryder swore again, for good measure.  “So if this really is Avaarus… I guess our friend here decided it wasn’t going out alone, huh?  Stole a few planets on the way out the door.”

“Ryder, the implications of this are incredible,” Suvi babbled, ecstatic.  “We knew the Scourge was powerful, but to learn that it can generate gravitational effects significant enough to move entire stars… forget terraforming, this is stellaforming!”

“Tann’s going to have an aneurysm,” Ryder chuckled.

“Don’t forget why we’re here, guys.  We’ve still got a job to do,” Kallo said, gently reminding them of their purpose in hunting down this most elusive system.  

“Right, yes.”  Ryder ran a hand through her hair before tapping her mic.  “Jaal, can you come up to the bridge?  I think we may have found what we’ve been looking for.”  Their resident angaran’s voice crackled immediately back.

“Oh, really now?  Of course!  On my way, Ryder.”

“God, it isn’t half pretty, is it?” murmured Suvi, completely ignoring her instruments panel in favor of staring at the solar system projected before them with a slightly glazed look.  

Ryder had to admit that her science officer’s assessment was dead on: Avaarus was a gorgeous system and that was putting it lightly.  Around the titanic, vividly blue-white star, sharply violet shades of gas spiraled out in a tight corkscrew.  At the edge of the heliosphere, thousands upon tens of thousands of asteroids spun in a truly magnificent debris disk.  All throughout, a plethora of mostly ringed planets hung suspended in the void, bathed in astral gases, caught in the midst of their aeons-long cosmic dance.  It was a perfect celestial tableau.  The fact that Ryder had seen dozens of equally stunning systems did nothing to detract from the moment; this sort of thing was enough to steal the breath from your lungs and, for her, it still did, every time.

Vetra would love this, she thought.  Before that particular idea could go anywhere, however, the quiet reverie they had fallen into was interrupted by the opening whoosh of the bridge doors.

“Alright Ryder, show me what you’ve got!” Jaal called cheerily, sauntering up to them.  Ryder turned and grinned.

“Hey, Jaal.  Allow me to present, for your consideration... the long-lost Avaarus system!” she said, spinning back to fling her arms wide.  “Or at least, we think it is.”  Jaal laughed.

“It’s a start, to be certain.  Any luck in finding the colony?”

“Anj Guhloan was supposedly on the fourth planet from Avaarus, right?”

“Correct.”  Ryder hummed an acknowledgement and cast a critical eye upon the projection.

“Right, then.  SAM, scan everything that could be big enough for an angaran settlement to hide on.  With all the crap this star picked up on the way out, who knows if Avaarus IV is still where it should be.”  Only after the merest second of delay, her AI chirped his response.

“Done.  I have identified what may be the remains of an angaran satellite in orbit around the fifth planet.”

“Bingo.  Kallo, I know this place is a minefield, but can you get us in closer?”

“Oh, please,” Kallo scoffed.  “I could fly through this blindfolded.”

“As entertaining as that sounds, I’d rather not be on the ship while you attempted it,” Jaal protested.  Kallo chuckled to himself.

“Have it your way.  Approach vector clear, Pathfinder; taking us in.”  The ever-present hum of the drive core pitched up a little as Kallo wove through the debris disk and into the core of the heliosphere.  Ryder had to hand it to him: while he could be a little over-sure at times, he was, inarguably, a pilot of sterling quality.  The Tempest progressed at a healthy pace through a chunk of space so dense with detritus that a lesser navigator would have been reduced to crawl.  

It was only a few short minutes before they were close enough to the planet in question for Suvi to start taking more detailed scans.  Ryder was less than thrilled to see her science officer’s face falling as she pored over her gathered readings.

“That’s not a happy expression, Anwar.  What are you getting?”  Suvi muttered something unintelligible and tapped her mic to ping their AI.

“SAM, can you get me a scan of the star, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Anwar.”  As her eyes flicked across the new influx of data, Suvi spat something foul.

“Keep us in the loop, Suvi, what have you got?” Ryder asked.

“Bad news, I’m afraid.”  Suvi twisted in her seat to face them.  “It looks like the star Avaarus is well on its way to becoming a superluminous supernova; this system’s going to go off like a firecracker sometime in the next couple centuries.  Avaarus IV - or, Avaarus V now, I guess - if it ever really was Anj Guhloan, has been a molten, liquid hunk of rock for a long time now.  I’m sorry, guys.  The planet’s cooked.”  A hand pressed to her forehead, Ryder sighed.

“Damn.  I’m sorry, Jaal.  That is not the news I wanted to give the angara.”  She was surprised when Jaal smiled at her, apparently far less distraught than she had expected.

“Do not worry, my friend.  The angara, myself included, have accepted that, between the Scourge, the kett, and our own occasional stupidity, many of the settlements that once were are now undoubtedly gone.  Though I am disappointed the lost colony of Anj Guhloan was not waiting for us, I am thankful to have borne witness to its fate.  The angara who lived here will not be forgotten, for we now know what happened to them.”  Ryder smiled wistfully back.

“Well, I’m glad we could at least give you that.  SAM, send a report to Aya and update the Initiative’s maps.”  Ryder rolled her neck, eliciting a disconcerting crack in the process.  She groaned.  “And on that note, I think we’re done for the day.  Kallo, Suvi, go eat something and get some sleep.  And…” she trailed off as she checked her omnitool.  “Oh my god, guys, tell me when we’ve been going for longer than eight hours!”  Kallo and Suvi, now standing and working out their own muscular kinks, looked at her in surprise.

“I, uh… I didn’t notice, Pathfinder,” Kallo murmured.

“How long have we…?” Suvi asked.

“I believe you three have been up here flying for more than ten hours, actually.  Last I checked, that is,” Jaal said, grinning.  Head cradled in her hands, Ryder heaved another groan, this one infinitely more weary than the last.

“Then remind me instead to set an alarm next time, or something.  Alright, clear the bridge you lot, I’m going to get enough hell as it is from Lexi about overworking you.”

“Oh, come on, Ryder,” Kallo argued.  

Suvi cut over him, to say: “This is what we signed up for!”  Ryder pointed at the door, but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Out, now!  Food and then bed; we can poke around the system in more detail tomorrow.  Jaal, make sure they get some of that roast Drack made yesterday down their throats?”

“You’ve got it, Ryder.”  Saint that he was, Jaal gently but firmly shepherded her protesting bridge crew out and down to the galley.  The door slid shut behind them, leaving the Pathfinder by herself.  

Sometimes, you don’t realize how tired you are until you’ve a second to yourself; the newfound silence afforded Ryder both a blissful moment of recuperation and the recognition of the fact that she was, indeed, knackered.  She stretched her arms - damn, if she wasn’t stiff - and turned her attention back to the now rediscovered Avaarus system.  Exhausted as she was, she didn’t quite want to leave it yet, especially for something so trivial as sleep.  (Yes, she was entirely a hypocrite).  There was something equal parts forlorn and magical about watching the silver-blue star floating alone in the void; so far away from everything.  And yet, as if in defiance of its exile, Avaarus burned all the more beautiful.  Though, it wasn’t really alone, was it?  It had its stolen planets to comfort it through the coming explosion.  In much the same way as the ultimate fate of Anj Guhloan was beheld by Jaal, so too would the fate of Avaarus be beheld by its stolen audience.  It was a strangely reassuring thought.  As she gazed at the plethora of elliptical orbiters, a thought occurred to her.

“Hey, SAM.”

“Yes, Ryder?”

“What’s the plan for these planets?”

“Initiative protocol dictates that they be scanned, designated, and marked on Initiative maps.  Planets of note - those that could be potentially habitable or those with valuable resources - will be highlighted and the relevant officials made aware of their existence.  In the case of these particular planets, considering they are molten slag bar none and located a significant distance from the Heleus cluster, it is unlikely the Initiative will take any interest beyond the academic.  There may be some investigation into the stellaforming effects of the Scourge, as Ms. Anwar puts is it, but that is where it will likely end.”

“So this is as far as things go for them, huh?  At least, as far as we’re concerned?”

“That is correct, Pathfinder.  The Initiative has more immediate concerns.”

“That’s kind of sad.  Something so beautiful deserves a bit more attention than... wait, SAM, what exactly are these planets being designated?”

“I have tagged the orbiting bodies, in order, as H-977, H-978, H-979a, H-979b, H-.”  Before he could get too far into his alphanumeric monologue, Ryder cut him off.

“Okay, right, thanks SAM.”  Chewing at the inside of her cheek, she stared off into space, thoughtful.

“Pathfinder?”

“Yeah, SAM?”

“If I may ask, what is it you’re thinking of doing?”

“I’m thinking...”  As she recalled her earlier train of thought, Ryder’s face lit up.  “I’m thinking I’ve got an idea for the best date night, ever.”

“Ah.  I believe I understand.  Would you like me to ask Ms. Nyx to come up to the bridge?”

“Nah, I’ll go grab her.”  Ryder turned around and made for the door, but was arrested in her escape by SAM once more.

“Have fun, Ryder.”  Ryder beamed.

“Thanks, buddy.”  

With a hop, skip, and a slap to the face to keep herself awake, Ryder was away.  She didn’t bother with the ladder to the lower deck - as she jogged onto the clear plex of the catwalk, she unceremoniously jumped off the side to land on the ground below.  A combination of her biotics and sleep deprivation was enough to negate the jarring impact entirely and in the span of a heartbeat, she was off down the hall.  As she hustled past the med bay, she caught at the very edge of her vision Lexi’s head poking out to investigate the noise.

“Ryder, what on earth did you just-.”

“No time, doc!  Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Ryder, you know full well that your telling me not to worry about something only ever makes me worry more!”  But Ryder was gone and heading into the cargo bay before Lexi could get too far into giving a proper scolding.  Lucky for her, it looked like just about everyone else was asleep - no one was around to see her eager jog over to what had become Vetra’s office.  

Slowing to a stop, Ryder took a moment to catch her breath.  She didn’t want to look excessively keen - though in a committed relationship she and Vetra may have been, she still had a calm and collected reputation to maintain.  It didn’t matter that Vetra knew it all to be, by and large, a conscious affect: it was the principle of the thing.  The Pathfinder was always composed - even in the face of giddying affection.  Once she had herself together, Ryder headed in.  The door slid open to reveal Vetra hunched over a mess of crates.  She was, quite impressively, stacking them with just the one hand while simultaneously checking them against the list projected on her omnitool, all while muttering obscenities under her breath.  Ryder crossed her arms and leaned against the frame, indulging in having caught her partner unawares and in her element.  Vetra was much more relaxed when other people - Ryder aside - weren’t around and it gave Ryder a sort of tender joy to see her so at ease.  But of course, such sappy sentiments would never stop her from teasing her girlfriend, not at all.  As Vetra straightened back up, Ryder announced her presence in as serious a tone as she could fake.

“Ms. Nyx, your assistance is urgently required on the bridge.”  Vetra turned around to meet Ryder’s gaze, crossing her own arms in the process.

“Is it now, Pathfinder?” she said, with a poorly constrained smile.  

“Indeed.  Life and death situation; fate of the cluster at stake.  The usual.”

“Mmm, I’m sure.  Unfortunately for you, Ryder, it just so happens that I’m currently having the time of my life processing requisitions.  Can your little ‘situation’ measure up to the sheer euphoria of cataloguing rolls of toilet paper?”  Vetra deadpanned the statement so completely that Ryder found herself staring at her partner in disbelief, mouth dropping.  Vetra, clearly delighting in Ryder’s bewilderment, had the gall to wink at her.  Too tired to retort, Ryder finally broke.  She sprang forward, proffering a hand and letting all her excitement shine past the bit.

“Oh my god, come on already, you silly turian, I want to show you something!”  Vetra smiled in turn and reached out to take said hand.

“Yeah, alright, I was getting pretty sick of checking for delivery discrepancies anyway.  So what have you - whoah!”  As soon as she had a hold on her, Ryder tugged Vetra into a jog, pulling her out of the office and around onto the cargo lift.  She punched the ascent and the thing began its slow, clunky climb.  Unfortunately, slow and clunky was something of an understatement; Ryder found herself tapping her foot with impatience as they rose ploddingly.

“Excited, are we?” Vetra poked.

“Trust me, babe, you’re going to love this.”  

“If it’s whatever’s responsible for you smiling like this, then I’m sure I will.”  Vetra slung an arm around Ryder’s shoulders, who in turn threw an arm around Vetra’s waist; overt affection came more easily when they were alone.  Additionally, being wrapped around each other had the added benefit of slowing Ryder down a bit: pulled close to Vetra’s side, she was forced to adopt a slightly more sane pace as they made their way back through the ship and up to the bridge.  Ryder didn’t mind.  It was totally worth trading speed for.  When they eventually came up on the bridge doors, Ryder called a halt before they could enter.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, I did it that time you tried to kill me with a blackened piece of cow.”

“Fair point.”

“Look, I’d cover them for you if I could, but I can’t help the fact that you’re absurdly tall.”  Vetra grinned evilly down at her.

“Well, I can’t help the fact that you’re a shrimp.  And don’t pretend you don’t love it, short stack.”

“Yeah, I do, now close ‘em, Nyx!” Ryder muttered, her face flushing a little as Vetra eyed her.  Apparently sufficiently appeased, her partner deigned to close her eyes.  Ryder guided her temporarily sightless charge through the doors and to the fore of the bridge.  With her implant, she signaled SAM to collapse the navigation panel and guided Vetra to sit on the now available ledge before joining her by her side.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”  Vetra did so and promptly gasped.

“Oh, wow.”

“Right?”

“That’s...”

“Right?!”

“Hot damn, Ryder.  That’s gorgeous.”  Ryder hummed an affirmation, thoroughly pleased with herself.  “You know how to pick ‘em, babe.”

“What can I say?  I’ve got exceptional taste in star systems.”  Vetra elbowed her affectionately.  

“You sure do.”

“So... do you wanna name them?”  Vetra spluttered, incredulously amused.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious!”

“Ryder, is that even something you’re allowed to do?”

“Aw, c’mon, I’m the Pathfinder.  If anyone can get away with naming a couple of planets, I think it’s me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”  Vetra shook her head, but Ryder knew she just about had her.  Her partner just needed the right incentive.

“I’m giving you dibs on naming the first one.”  That got her.  Vetra opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and peered curiously into space.

“Which one’s that?”  Ryder snorted and pointed.

“Purple-blue ice giant with the three moons, very edge of the heliosphere.”

“Oh, you spoil me.”

“I try.  So, give us a name!  What are you thinking?”

“Hmm.  I’m thinking… Not Dead Yet.”  Ryder stifled a chuckle.  

“Why that?”

“Looks like it’s almost been ejected from the system, but the big bastard’s clinging on something fierce.”

“A name the Initiative can relate to, I’m sure.”

“That’s the idea.  Alright, your turn, oh mighty Pathfinder.  What’re we going to call that one?”  The planet in question was a chthonian-in-progress; a gas giant in close orbit to Avaarus, its emerald-colored atmosphere in the process of being stripped away to reveal the molten aluminum-iron core.

“Stinky.”  Vetra burst out laughing.

“What?! You’re messing with me.”

“Look at it!  That thing is trailing bright green gas like no one’s business.”

“Ryder, I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty certain that’s burning atmosphere.”

“Yeah and it’s stinking up the neighborhood as it goes.”  Vetra heaved a much-put upon sigh, but the breadth of her toothy turian grin and the fluttering of her mandibles betrayed her amusement.

“Alright, fine.  Stinky it is.  Which one next?”

“That one.  Whatcha got?”  The planet Ryder was indicating was another gas giant, though this one was significantly prettier than the newly-dubbed Stinky.  Ivory clouds of gas billowed across it, cut though with the occasional twisting carmine storm.  It was a bloody, alabaster gem, stark against the black.  Vetra considered it thoughtfully.

“Would I sound crazy if I said it kind of looks like my sister?”

“Y’know... no, I see it, it kind of does.”  Ryder and Vetra gave each other a dubious, slant-eyed look at exactly the same time and erupted in giggles.

“Spirits, babe, Sid’s going to flip if I tell her I named a planet after her!”

“All the more reason to do it!”  Vetra huffed.

“Screw it.  Planet, I dub thee Sidera.”

“She’ll be thrilled.”  Falling victim to a yawn of massive proportions, Ryder leaned her head against Vetra’s shoulder and fought to keep her eyes open.  “Go on, you can do the next one too.”  Vetra cast her eyes around the system, searching for her next victim.

“How about that protoplanet?” she asked.  As Ryder murmured her sleepy approval, Vetra curled an arm around her.  “Well, as long as I’m being all sentimental… Prag’rath.”  Ryder scrunched her nose in confusion.

“Prag’rath?”

“The batarian mercenary who taught me to shoot.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“She’d kick my ass for it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”  Though there were yet planets in need of names, tiredness and the sheer splendor of the system had Vetra and Ryder lapsing into a warm and comfortable silence, pressed close together.  The Avaarus system slowly and silently spun before them, its striking beauty framed by the stars so incredibly remote in the distance.

“Is this something normal couples do?” Ryder asked.  Vetra peered down at her.

“Naming planets?  I mean... no, probably not.”  Vetra brought Ryder’s hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.  “But I’d like to think it’s very us.  This was a lot of fun, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m glad.”  Ryder settled further against her partner and finally stopped fighting the exhaustion of the day, letting her eyes droop shut.  Though already half-asleep, she whispered, “Vetra?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”  The last things Ryder registered before finally succumbing to sleep were the pale, sparkling light of Avaarus and Vetra’s voice, murmuring in her ear.

“I love you too.”

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 9: Magic and Might

Summary: The heroes and villains learn more about the troubling future.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Dark was coming to, slowly, with a pounding headache. A headache that was made worse because two people were literally screaming directly over him.

Wilford and Brody had gotten into a bit of a disagreement. Brody had gotten upset that Dark was just lying on a cold table and had gone looking for a pillow or some kind of cushion. But Wilford used the Void to grab what he wanted before Brody could take two steps to leave the room. That caused a light argument about how Wilford wouldn’t have done anything if Brody hadn’t spoken up. Which Wil immediately argued that was not the case. And that led to the louder argument that had woken Dark in the first place.

“Mhmmm!” Dark complained, his aura not quite strong enough to lash out at them without worsening his migraine. He was a little dazed as the memories of before he’d been hit hadn’t come back yet.

“Great, yeh fookin’ woke ‘im up,”[1] Brody complained.

“I woke him up?” Wil argued heatedly. “The absolute nerve!”

Nestor had his head in his hands, “Fuck, I forgot that they do this when we put them together.”

“Wil?” Dark called out, his aura naturally tugging Wil closer.

Wilford instantly turned to go and tend to Dark, Brody looked away and sighed in defeat, taking a seat close by. “Yes, my Darkling?”

Dark grabbed Wilford and pulled him close, Wil realized he was shaking. Brody looked over, noticed the shaking and gripped his knees as he forced himself to sit there.

“My sweet licorice,” Wil frowned as he didn’t try to escape or wriggle free from the Entity. “What’s wrong?”

“You almost died,” Dark told Wil, who looked very confused.

“My Darkling, death is—” Wil chuckled, running a hand through Dark’s hair.

Dark grabbed his hand, “No, Wil, that blast would have killed you. I barely survived. You don’t have enough aura to survive an attack like that.”

Wilford thought on that, “Well even if I did die, I would haunt you. Here let me—”

Wil tried to pull away, but Dark held him in a vice grip. Panic flooded the Entity’s mind.

“No! I can’t let you be attacked by something like that,” Dark ordered. “You can’t—”

Dark’s voice became choked and Wil leaned in to gently kiss his forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere my dear, I promise,” Wil smiled and Dark seemed to calm down a bit now that Wilford wasn’t pulling away again.

After a bit, Dark pulled himself up, and noticed everyone still in the room. He groaned and protectively curled his own aura around himself. He didn’t have enough aura at the moment to spare to make some sort of display of power. Which made him uneasy. Wil and his children were safe but who even knew how long he’d been out for. He had an image to uphold and he was wasting it sleeping on a desk of all things.

As the Entity’s thoughts were thinking of something that would help him look like he wasn’t about to fall apart, he felt aura tap towards his own and his cracked and battered soul was so eager for more aura to take that he grabbed it without thinking and felt like it was massaging the inside of his scalp. The feeling made Dark feel better almost immediately.

Dark’s migraine blissfully began to fade and he recognized the almost tangy sweet of Wil’s aura creeping towards his own. Dark thought it was weird but he was desperate for aura and trying not to show it maybe he could—

Wil’s aura aggressively shoved the first aura — Brody’s — off of Dark. The headache flared back into his senses and left Dark a little whiplashed.

“The hell was that? He was fookin’[2] calmin’[3] down!” Brody spat at Wilford.

Dark looked around the room in confusion before he saw Anti. The individual he initially assumed was the cause of the argument. But Anti wasn’t coming over and Wil and Brody were on either side of him. The glitch wasn’t even looking their way, he was just hovering over Henrik. The German doctor was with Iplier still tending to the Host’s and the Dealer’s eyes.

Nestor got in to pull Brody away before it got violent and Wil stood next to Dark who was soon distracted by Illinois and King who were trying to catch Dark up on what everyone had discussed while he was unconscious.

Ethan and Silver were going through the huge file of pictures and videos.

The former sidekick paused on a group shot of Dark sitting in his warehouse office with J.J, Brody, Nestor, and someone who looked a lot like Henrik just in suspenders and without his lab coat.

“Hey, I thought you guys said Henrik was dead?” Ethan asked.

“Henrik’s not in that picture, it’s—” Nestor told him, but looked at it again before doing a double take and snatching the screen back. “Oh shit! It is.”

Brody looked up, when Nestor walked over, “Hey Chase, this is Heinz’s last picture.”

“Huh,” Brody leaned to look at the screen. “This was the fourth right? Not the last time I saw him in the front, but definitely the last picture.”

“What happened ta[4] him?” Anti hissed. Now that Glitch Logan had been physically taken away from him he was far calmer, but he hovered protectively around Henrik.

“Well,” Brody began. “When the hunters were burnin’ Brighton down an’ I was runnin’ around trying ta help stop it, yah were tryin’ ta protect Kay an’ his kid from some ‘a the hunters. The fight almost killed yeh an’ Henrik agreed ta let yah hitch a ride until yeh got better. But yeh never left an’ after ten years yeh both became the Mortician.”[5]

Anti just stared at him in alarm.

“Same thing happened to Nate and Mare, it was just more traumatic for them,” Nestor told Anti, before immediately changing the subject back to the Mortician. “Morty’s alright, comes into town every Thursday to shoot the shit and show off his knife collection he got from you. I think Henrik might still be in there but it’s been ages since I could tell the difference. I think Dark can but I don’t ask him about what Mortician does and I have enough to do every day. Which is a shame.”

Anti came over and looked at the screen, uncertainty and a bit of unease in his eyes. There were some pictures of this . . . Anti didn’t know whether to call him a new demon or not. He had Henrik’s face and something in Anti’s long dead soul twisted a bit. He didn’t like the idea of Henrik with some other demon, even if it was some other version of himself.

Henrik, who was finished cleaning up the Dealer’s eyes walked over, “May I see?”

“No!” Anti tried to surge over to destroy the drive and the tablet it was in before Henrik could see it.

“Anti, don’t be fookin’[2] difficult, just let him see it,” Brody shouted at him. “If Brighton’s not burnin’ then Mort’s got no reason ta e’en exist.”[6]

“Anti!” Henrik, starting to shout at him in a mix of German and English as he stomped over and took the screen away to look at it.

“If somezing[7] involves me, zen[8] I deserve to know!” Henrik shouted at Anti.

Henrik studied the picture for a bit, curious and a little nervous about this future version of himself.

After a minute of seeing his own body moving in a way that was similar and alien all at the same time, he handed it back to Nestor as the group went through the videos. Chase saw some of the pictures taken of his future self talking to Dark in the mob boss’s office. Himself in a vest and button-up and what was obviously a real gun on his belt.

Everything about the photographic evidence making him uncomfortable.

As most of the heroes and villains were still in the meeting room they’d been originally brought to, Logan went down to the ground floor parking lot. His glitchy counterpart had to move there to help build whatever device he’d been working on. The Googles and Bing were helping him to assemble the machine parts that were being constructed and printed.

Roman hovered right next to him, apprehensive about if the glitch would attack or not. Janus was with him and the other Sides were hanging back within earshot.

“Are you able to talk and work at the same time?” Logan asked the computer.

The image glitched and the young demon was on the monitor, as if he was simply being recorded in another room. “Such is the wonder of automation. We have much to discuss.”

“We do,” Logan agreed, feeling nervous but tried his best to hide it. “You spoke of a Collider earlier. What is that?”

Schematics popped up on the screen for Logan to see and scroll through. It was some advanced laser or turbine.

“I have been working on this for the past three resets, when it became clear we and the Dealer had different end goals,” Glitch Logan announced. “It is a fusion of magic and technology powerful enough to cut through dimensional rifts.”

“What would be the purpose of such a device?” Logan asked, “you are from the future.”

The computer showed images of the generator that Logan’s drive and three Sides’ lockets had been in. “After our last resulting failure, I decided it was time to ensure the Core Sides’ survival so that was why I constructed my generator. Which, I had plans to use Anti as a power source. He was older than I am and 99% likely to survive with little more than some scraps against his soul. After a month or two he would have been fine.”

“Why were we in that generator?” Logan demanded.

“Well, after I would reclaim Anti,” Glitch Logan began, as if his answer would be oblivious, “I planned on using the excess energy to finish cracking the souls of every single Side. If that wasn’t enough to turn all of us into instant demons, nothing would.”

“You heinous monster!” Roman shouted. “More proof you are not who you say you are!”

“I would merely be finishing what Wilford’s soul splitter started,” Glitch Logan announced gleefully. “It is far easier to kill all of you as you now stand. I am trying to keep all of us alive. I do not care if I am liked or thanked for what I have done. My actions so far have led to not only your survival so far, but made Dark suspicious and guarded enough to save Wil.”

“So the mages and hunters you murdered were worth nothing but power to you!” Logan roared.

“Yes,” Glitch Logan admitted with no hesitation. “Their magic would have fueled the generator to ensure a successful merge, but now that Wilford is still alive the Host has agreed to use our Anomaly to fuel the generator instead. Meaning that Anti’s involvement will be completely unnecessary. I have already handed over the magical amulets I used to store their magic to the Host, Dark can keep them, he needs them more than I do at the moment.”

“Glad to know that sentient life will not be used for your personal gain,” Logan spat. Anti was his enemy, but he did not deserve to be turned into a living battery. None of the mages or hunters deserved to be turned into batteries.

“You have lost nothing, you would be prepared to roil in your own grief if I were not here!” Glitch Logan spat. “Roman and Virgil will not die, and Patton will not be hunted like an animal. I have saved them.”

Logan didn’t have an easy rebuttal.

“Maybe you have, but this is our future now,” Janus proclaimed, nudging himself protectively in front of Logan. “We will make of it what we will.”

The glitch demon chuckled, his screen version pushing up his glasses, “I suppose you will. I’d be more concerned if I wasn’t sure they were still in capable hands.”

Because it was a screen, it was unclear if Glitch Logan was looking at anyone in particular, but Logan felt it. As if he was being specially targeted.

“Why decide on the generator now, and not earlier?” Logan tried to move the conversation, Janus looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“That was because I was so close last time,” Glitch Logan proclaimed. “The Host forced a reset, I didn’t know that he could do that without J.J but apparently the Anomaly is more powerful than I could have imagined if it granted him the ability to do so.”

“Why did he reset you, if things were going so well?” Logan asked.

“Hmmm,” the Glitch hummed. “Uncertain, but Chase went into the dome, it shrank into a smaller one and after five seconds we were standing at the same spot we always do when we are thrown back. Chase was crying and immediately he and I got into a fight with the Host. It was some nonsense about a doll and that the Host didn’t want to discuss him. All I know about this “doll” is that it had something to do with Dark. I can infer that Dark had some reaction and whatever the Anomaly made in that dome, it scared the Host.”

“Scared him, how?” Virgil asked, he’d been listening in and came over.

“Uncertain, but the results speak for themselves,” Glitch Logan smiled as a camera detached on a long cord to look at Virgil. “Come out from hiding, my sweet nightmare?”

“Get away from him,” Roman nudged himself in front of Virgil, drawing his sword.

Glitch Logan was smiling, “So full of life, I’m glad something is finally going right. Now if you all will excuse me, I have to ensure my future.”

Then his video turned off and the construction on the machine sped up.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. Great, you fucking woke him up

2. fucking

3. calming

4. to

5. When the hunters were burning Brighton down and I was running around trying to help stop it, you were trying to protect Kay and his kid from some of the hunters. The fight almost killed you and Henrik agreed to let you hitch a ride until you got better. But you never left and after ten years you both became the Mortician.

6. If Brighton’s not burnin’ then Mort’s got no reason ta e’en exist.

7. something

8. then

[chiclet-go-boom]

point of impact 3

Later he tells himself it’s because he was exhausted. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen to him, he’s better than that. Outside of some really spectacular stunts, Varric Tethras simply doesn’t lose his footing for any reason short of something collapsing out underneath him - and even then it’s a dice roll he often wins.

And hadn’t he dodged every attack that Blight be damned giant had thrown? Every single one, including the first that none of them had even seen coming because he’s just that good. He’d rolled, unhooked, loaded Bianca, shot a complete salvo and all of it from zero to a dead run while the clearing they’d stepped into was rapidly being made wider with each swipe from a club the size of a tree because it was a tree. How the hell they’d managed to stumble over something that big without hearing it first defied comprehension.

And not once had he tripped on anything. Not roots, not rocks, nothing. Even with the ground quakes as the thing had tried to squash either the Seeker or the Herald the easy way, peering myopically at the quick moving targets under its feet, he hadn’t missed a beat. He’d been particularly proud of the tight cluster of bolts he’d managed to plant in the monster’s knee that had brought it to down to, if not eye level, at least less mountain-versus-completely-startled-ants.

So losing his balance backwards as a rock had shifted under his foot while climbing the bank of the shallow river ford, working their painful way back to last evening’s campsite was completely uncalled for. He’d windmilled but hadn’t been able to save himself.

And worse yet, the Inquisitor had burst out laughing.

He’d sat up spluttering and cursing, three quarters of the way to being actually angry only to be greeted by the sight of the Herald of Andraste nearly doubled over and clutching a spindling tree that was in no way equipped to deal with it. And the water was cold, damn it, up over his waist as he’d sprawled there on his ass glaring at her and the Herald was still laughing as if it was the funniest thing she’d seen since Maker knows when. Higher up the bank the Seeker was staring down at both of them with a faintly disapproving look, her shield arm pressed her to belly to keep it stable while they walked, her dark braid trailing miserably over her shoulder just like a snake trying to find a spot of warmth to curl up in and suddenly he was laughing too because the whole damned day was just that flavor of absurd.

The sound of Dorian sloshing up behind him muttering “If you people are quite done,” hadn’t helped either.

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

He tells himself it’s because he has to clean Bianca thoroughly that he’s taking his time stripping her apart. And it’s true, he’s not lying. Between the water and the mud and the hours that have passed since she took her bath, he needs to make sure everything is in good working order so he’s in no hurry to finish, peeling her down methodically, automatically.

Across the campfire, he’s watching the Inquisitor help the Seeker with her hair. It’s damn near domestic.

Wide legged on the sagging tree trunk that probably fell sometime during the last Age, the Inquisitor has the other warrior wedged below her, Cassandra’s back against the support as she gets the debris calmly picked out of her hair. Down to her padded tunic and leggings with her shield arm poulticed and bandaged to help with the bruises and strain, the Seeker might almost look relaxed if it wasn’t for the scowl still compressed between her eyebrows.

“Careful, Seeker,” he throws out. “Don’t want it to freeze that way.”

“If I want your opinion, Varric,” is the reply after a moment, “I will give it to you.”

The Inquisitor snorts before he can, pale fingers moving delicately through the black tufts. Catch, release. Catch, release. Varric puts another set of interlocked gears to the side and squints into the chambered groove left behind. He reaches without looking for the rag he has set aside.

He knows the Seeker is discomfited that she can’t do it herself, can’t lift her arm that far until the potion and the salve do their work and yet it’s still somewhat endearing to watch. The Herald is as blond as the Seeker is dark and the contrast is interesting in the twilight that will very quickly be true darkness. Everyone is tired and he can see it on their faces, drowsy with heat and the last remnants of ebbing fear. Dorian has already retired to a tent after having eaten his portion of stew, saying something about last watch, but they’d all seen his hands trembling. Nobody had been stupid enough to mention it. The mage had pulled a crap ton of fire out of seemingly nowhere in those first desperate seconds.

Cassandra sighs and tilts her head to the side, a small sound as the Herald starts to unwind her braid finally, dragging her fingers through it to remove the snags. A piece of wood chooses that moment to snap sharply.

“Maker, but that feels good,” she says. “Thank you for this.”

“It’s no problem. I spent a couple of weeks once with enough sand in my hair to build a small castle with.” The warrior’s voice is amused. “I would have tossed Dorian to the blood mages if somebody had promised me a comb and a bath.” The Inquisitor’s voice is low enough but Varric still looks over at the tents. There’s no answering rebuttal however so Dorian is probably already asleep.

“I know how you feel,” says Cassandra. “I keep my hair short for that reason but it is still a nuisance.”

“I gotta ask, Seeker,” he says without considering it first, his fingers busy along with, apparently, his mouth. “Why do you keep any of it long at all?” He waves at hand at nothing in particular, the rag suspended in it. “This has got to happen a bunch to you.”

The sound the Seeker makes isn’t exactly a growl but it’s hard to classify what it is, really, other than condescending. “It is functional.”

The Herald’s fingers have the braid half apart, fingers splitting the long length of it from tip to scalp. The dark trail reaches nearly to Cassandra’s breast with the kinked waves picking up the firelight in patches. Varric looks down at his crossbow and tries to remember where he was with it. Cassandra’s hair looks surprisingly tactile, it’s almost as if he can feel it running over his fingers instead. He wipes down the stock of the wood to push the sensation away.

“I have to say, I don’t see how,” he replies. Surprisingly it’s the Herald that answers.

“Padding.” She picks out a few more twigs, a small leaf, eyeing them critically before flicking them into the fire. “Helmets never fit right unless they’re specifically hammered to you - and even then they don’t fit right. Doesn’t matter what they’re lined with, or what you stuff ‘em with either, there’s always something that presses in the wrong spot. Wearing braids gives some extra cushion, distributes the weight around.”

“Huh,” he says. “Never thought of that.”

“Most don’t,” says Cassandra, “which is unfortunate since a bad fitting helmet is a trial. Braids should be more in fashion than they are.”

“Well,” Varric says, “we can always slip a note to the Orlesians for next season, there’s still time. Start a trend. Maybe rake in some royalties and pay off Big Nasty into an early retirement.”

A frown for his levity flashes across Cassandra’s face but the Herald simply laughs. “Ponytails are good too if they’re long enough to wind up top, if a bit more slippy. Or you know, you can just skip the helmet thing altogether and hope you’re fast.” She winks at Varric even as her rough fingers start to rebraid Cassandra’s hair, pulling gently.

Varric quells a flash of odd disappointment. With her hair down, the Seeker had looked different somehow, just that little bit less severe and he was kind of liking it. It doesn’t help that her temple is now resting on the Herald’s knee with her eyes half closed, exposing the long line of her neck.

“Also,” says Cassandra unexpectedly, “it is personal.”

Varric blinks. “Oh?”

The Seeker shifts, as if already regretting her words but her voice is measured across the fire. “When I was a little girl, my hair was entirely braids. It is - was - very Nevarran. I do not know if it is still in vogue. They were down to my waist and very heavy and I did not enjoy them. When I joined the Seekers I cut them all off as soon as I could. It was very freeing.”

And damn him, he can almost see it. Little Lady Cassandra rises in his mind’s eye, black glossy braids down her back, ribbons in them maybe. Red maybe, or sapphire - no, definitely cobalt blue, and probably satin. Did somebody ever pull her by them? He imagines a hand tugging on her hair, burying itself in the dark mass of it and he swallows dryly for no reason he can name.

But the Seeker thankfully isn’t privvy to what’s in his head, her own nose wrinkling softly at what is obviously a distant memory. “Yet I found that as I grew older, I thought of myself sometimes as I was then, when I was not always a Seeker or so deeply involved in Chantry politics or carrying out the will of Most Holy. So I grew out enough hair for a braid, to remind me of times when the worst I had to fear was being scolded for a muddy dress. It is...a comfort to remember that the world can still have those moments.”

“So functionally personal.” He clears his throat, staring down without really seeing anything, fingers lifting out another piece without his mind having to be involved in the process. “I gotta say Seeker, that’s very you.”

“It is, I suppose,” she agrees without discernible inflection. The fire pops again, settling and the Herald continues, bent over her fingers as the plait continues weaving itself.

It is the work of moments and the braid is finished and coiled on the Seeker’s head, back in its accustomed place and the Seeker is just the Seeker again, a woman with a scarred face and a weary expression.

“And on that note, I’m to bed,” says the Herald, groaning as she stands. She offers a forearm to Cassandra who accepts awkwardly on her good side, suffering herself to be hauled to her feet. “Cassandra?”

“I, also, if that is okay. Varric, you are good with first watch?”

He waves a broad hand. “Sleep well, ladies. I’ll keep the bears and giants and various bugs entertained awhile longer.”

He watches as they disappear into the tent they share, the flap falling behind them. He looks down at Bianca, cradled in his arms, half undressed as she is, her pieces gleaming.

“Just you and me now, sweetheart.” He bends to his work and tries really hard not to think about anything at all except where caked mud might still be wedged.

[halorocks1214]

roa: side stories - the good, the bad, and the hydrofoil

AO3 Link

Word Count: 5423

Summary: Gordon just wanted to spend time with his dad, even if it meant fake smiles and boring conference parties. He didn’t want to think about his traumatizing past, especially not during a hostage negotiation.

AO3 Series Link

oh my god i really just vomited this out. holy crap. i originally was planning to write, like, all of the character parts before i started this no lie. ‘side stories’ was really supposed to be a tiny bow on top of a nicely wrapped gift, buuuut then shit started happening and i felt crappy and just needed to do what i do best and beat the fuck out of fictional characters. hope you enjoy this one! i sure as hell did lmao

Warnings for mentions of minor suicidal idealization

Gordon hated tuxedos.

They were stingy, uptight and physcially tight things that made him look like he was some asshole snob that complained when the champagne wasn’t the right temperature. He would rather wear his awesome shirts or cool tennis shoes any day of the week, also, did he mention these things were tight? Holy cow did his threaten to choke him more than once tonight, and if you made a drinking game based on how many times he readjusted his collar you would need to go to the fucking hospital.

He felt this was important to bring up because the damn thing was choking him, again, but he couldn’t adjust it like he wanted to because he didn’t want to look like a dumbass to all the eyes that were on him suddenly. He wanted to hang out with his father and they both promised to be on their best behavior. Gordon can’t help but wonder if he messed up somehow if his dad’s horrified face was anything to go by.

Gordon hated tuxedos because they had to be the reason he was choking right now. Not the man holding an AK at his face, or the men doing something similar to the other guests. The guests and his father were watching him with beady eyes because he was sweating like a dumbass monkey in a rental bowtie, not because the leader was simultaneously glaring at him while eyeing him down like a piece of meat.

Seriously, suits suck.

Hahaha.

Fuck.

Gordon shoved his hand further out in front of him, “Guuuuuuys, please. I’m sure we can talk about this like reasonable adults--”

The man jutted his gun further out like Gordon did his hand, not budging in the slightest, “Yes, Mr. Adult, I want to speak with you specifically. My boys and I here weren’t expecting there to be a huge party at this establishment right as we robbed it, must have been a last-minute planned one, so we need some extra help getting out of here. You, boy, seem to be our best bet.”

Jeff, in all of his fatherly grace, tried jumping past the two men keeping all the guests at bay, “Leave him out of this you animals!”

Gordon glanced over at his father with a look of indignation in a way that said Really?! You’re gonna do this now?! Rolling his eyes and hoping his dad got the message, Gordon gave the leader one of his best ‘IR Operative Smiles’, “Please, ignore my--”

“Augustine Holland Puckett.”

And there went that grin for the rest of the night.

Gordon found himself choking again, and he couldn’t even blame his outfit. He knew that name. Now he had a look of fear on his face, and he made sure to not look at his father right this moment. His trembles were small, but damn if they weren’t obvious. So not representing IR well right now, panicking in the middle of a job, heh.

Puckkie was his partner during WASP.

The only other partner in crime Gordon had outside of Alan.

Virgil had met him one time when visiting Gordon, made an offhanded comment about how Puckkie could have been his long lost twin.

Gordon scraped through his accident. It fucking sucked, but he eventually started living again.

Puckkie was dead on impact, never suffered, never was in pain. It was one of the few solaces Gordon had throughout all of his bullshit therapy.

The leader was oblivious to that turmoil, assuming it was just because Augustine was freaking out over his identity being known, “You thought you could escape us, huh? Got into WASP, thought the military could protect you, as well as some facial surgery along with it. Thought you could leave your past behind, right? We might have dropped tabs on you when you got accepted, but we always knew where you were.”

How in the fucking coincidence-- Gordon was suddenly aware of some horrifying truths. Puckkie, you little shit, is that why you knew how to lockpick? The fuck? If they never thought to look Puckkie up after they knew he joined it at least explained why they didn’t know the man was fucking dead--

The man suddenly barked, and Gordon felt ten times smaller than before, “Answer me!”

“Yes!” Gordon snapped before he could help himself. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. He could easily tell them they were wrong, that he was Gordon Cooper Tracy, his father right over there could prove it, but he was playing along. At the same time his mind was telling him he was an absolute fucking dumbass, the other was telling him that he could save these people. He might not be the person they were expecting, but he was in WASP. He knew how to do what they probably wanted.

Jeff, however, didn’t know what he knew, which didn’t help at all, “What? No, Gor--”

Right before his real name could be spoken out, one of the henchmen got tired of this man being rowdy. Before Gordon could blink or send another nonverbal shut the fuck up to his dad, Henchman #1 raised the butt of his gun and brought it down, knocking Jeff out cold.

“HEY!” Rage filled Gordon’s veins before he could help it. Not only did he just watch his father get beaten, who knew what that one hit could cause. He’s been back for a few months, but they could never be too careful. Could never avoid a repeat of the Zero-X enough.

The leader didn’t like how Augustine was fighting back, “Excuse me? Why do you give a shit about that man?”

Gordon’s stomach was turning inside out and doing somersaults in his gut. His hands were back down to his sides, fists clenched as his shaking was from a mixture of barely controlled anger and terror, “Don’t beat up the civilians, sir. They haven’t done anything.” Don’t let your true relations show too much. They will abuse that weakness until it doesn’t exist anymore.

The leader simply smirked at the display, “Ah, trying to play protector, are we? Fine, here’s a deal: you come with us quietly and help us escape, and we’ll leave these poor hapless civilians alone. Sound good?”

Gordon felt like he swallowed a giant rock. With sweat dripping down his face at the speed of bullets, he rapidly nodded.

With that response, the leader was suddenly in Gordon’s bubble and gripping his upper arm, shoving the gun under his chin, “Now then, we’re right next to the bay, as well as right next to a hydrofoil dock. That’s our exit.”

The man tried yanking Gordon alongside him, and, for the most part, was successful. He just probably wasn’t expecting to drag such a deadweight. As soon as the word ‘hydrofoil’ was said, Gordon blanked and his ears were ringing. He was subconsciously aware that was what they wanted him to do, but to actually hear it… God, the last time he even thought about touching one was when he and Puckkie were asked to test them. Then he ended up in the hospital for a couple of months, followed by the chair of utter helplessness.

Hell, Gordon was so out of it he wasn’t aware of when the salty air started blowing his hair in every direction, nor the actual vehicle getting closer and closer. The leader gave him a shove, which was enough to give the strawberry blonde clarity to hear his next order, “You get in first, don’t think about running off.”

Gulping, Gordon shakily made his way into the vessel. He looked over at the cockpit and felt a jolt of electricity rush through him. Before he could think about what this all meant, the gun was jutted into his back roughly, “Get moving, August. If we get out of this alive we might consider letting you back in.”

The men’s evil chuckles did absolutely nothing to ease his frazzled mind. He wasn’t even sure how he heard them to begin with. The blood rushing to his ears was as loud as the sea outside, and the ringing his mind was making only minorly quieted since it started.

Another jut of the gun, “Move.”

Juggling the empty air in his hands out of panic, he was suddenly in the seat with the steering wheel, the leader’s AK-47 poking the back of his neck just a little bit more than he would’ve liked. He aggressively took off the jacket part of his suit and ripped off his bowtie for maximum flexibility, leaving only his suspenders over his dress shirt.

He wasn’t sure how he remembered as much as he did, but he wasn’t even thinking as he flipped the switches and turned all the knobs to get this baby roaring. Muscle memory, what a finicky beast. The boat was suddenly purring, and it brought a strange mixture of relief and horror to Gordon’s ears.

Brushing his hands over the top of the steering wheel, he shakily gripped the circle of rubber and exhaled. He was here now and there was no going back. They all sat with bated breath, but before Gordon took off, he managed a cheeky smile as he turned around ever so slightly, “So, about that weather?”

The tip of the gun brushed his nose, “You think this is funny?”

Gordon flinched in on himself and refocused on the world outside, “O-Okay, geez. Tough crowd...”

And with that, they were moving. It was slow going at first, Gordon had to get re-used to the sensitivity of such a craft, but the leader wasn’t happy with it, “Hey, are you stalling?”

Gordon barely heard the question, “W-What? No, I just--”

The leader was as up in his face as much he could be without obstructing his vision to the outside, “Then why the hell are you driving like my mother is the one behind the wheel?”

Where the hell was Gordon getting his bite from? And why was it only coming now? “Dude, I promise to get you out of here, but if I start pushing it now we could break something. Hell, we’re still in the harb--”

Damn, don’t poke his eye out with that gun if you want him to see to drive, asshole, “I don’t care. At this rate, we’re practically sitting ducks. Start moving it or we can dump your body with one bullet hole in it for them to find instead.”

Gordon was left no choice but to listen. The hydrofoil was gunning it as they exited the docks, the already huge and vast sea getting bigger and bigger.

Henchman #1 was whooping in excitement, “Woah, look at this baby go!”

Henchman #2 was utterly seasick, “God, why did you want to join this branch…”

The leader groaned. He must be used to working with idiots, “Both of you shut your asses up and let little August here do his job.”

Gordon was going to retort with something to lighten the dark cloud in his mind, to make these guys regret forcing him to help them by being an annoying little shit, but instead, he took one teensy moment to blink, and with it, a GDF ship was in their way, them careening right towards it.

The three robbers were screaming behind him. Gordon autopiloted to try and dodge, but it wasn’t enough. They crashed right into the side, stopping them in their tracks.

What really happened was that Gordon’s attempt to dodge was enough to make the vehicle only scrape the side of the boat for a few seconds, the friction slowing it down. The hydrofoil and the gigantic ship were parallel-ly touching one another, both sitting as still as they could in the crazy waves of the ocean.

But Gordon didn’t know that. All he knew was that he crashed.

Was this it?

Would he be able to walk? Would there be more therapy?

Or were his hopes dashed? You could only have one miracle a lifetime after all.

“--et him go! Put down your wea--”

“--re not suicidal! Let us leave and may--”

Oh God, everything hurt.

His spine, his chest, his arms that gripped the parallel bars.

All the poking and prodding and scraping and surgery-- he can’t do it again. He can’t.

“--ot breathing! Jesus, let him g--”

“--ts his problem, not ou--”

The only thing he couldn’t feel were his damn legs, the most important limbs he had.

God, he was useless. No more swimming. No more running away after a prank.

It would’ve been better if he was the one that died.

“--t an oxygen mask! Quickly! Gor--”

“--ght away, sir! You heard the ma--”

Dammit, he wanted his dad.

His dumb, stubborn father who was dead like Gordon should be.

His father could fix anything, even this mess, yet he was gone, out of this world, never to return again--

“--sus, Squirt. Gordon, hey--”

Hands and arms were suddenly gripping him, laying him down on gravely ground, except these arms were familiar. Safe and warm. Gordon gained enough clarity to at least see who was holding him. The sight made him choke even more.

Dad.

He wasn’t dead, he was right here. Regardless if he could make it better, Gordon just wanted to see him again. Hallucination or not, he was going to abuse this moment till the end. Springing up from his back, he wrapped his arms around his father and held on tight. His fingernails were sharp, he forgot to clip them last week (couldn’t worry about clipping them when he needed to focus on walking again), so he was probably causing an ungodly amount of discomfort in his father’s back, but he just couldn’t help but feel everything in front of him.

Meanwhile, Jeff just simply returned the favor, keeping his arms around Gordon in an attempt to ground his son. He wasn’t sure what he was wincing over, his son ripping the skin off his back through his shirt or the way he just wouldn’t stop sobbing. Gordon was practically screaming in his arms and there was nothing he could do except try and squeeze him back to reality.

Eventually, the squad of GDF soldiers was back with an oxygen mask and a hypodermic needle. The highest-ranking one gestured toward the needle, “It’s your decision, sir.”

Jeff could barely think over the way his son was losing it in his arms. He was going to snap himself if he had to listen to the heartbreaking noise any longer. He placed his chin on Gordon’s head, jaw clenching in emotional pain, “Do it.”

It was a blur what happened next. All Jeff was sure about was that the squad got to work as he told them to. It hurt as Gordon was taken from his arms, his sobs getting worse at the loss of contact. Still holding his hand, Jeff grimaced at the way Gordon tried finding him again, “D-Dad, no--” he cried out, and he only got more hysterical at the sight of the needle coming toward his arm.

God, he was a terrible father.

Holding Gordon down, they were finally able to give his son the sedative and slip the oxygen mask over his face. Tear tracks were dripping down his face, the snot tracks not much better, but at least his eyes were closed, and the constant murkiness of the oxygen mask reminded Jeff that Gordon was still breathing, albeit very heavily.

The next few hours were an even worse blur. At some point, paramedics came and put his son on a stretcher. He doesn’t really need a hospital, but we’re being safe. Unless you object? Jeff remembered blearily shaking his head no, not letting go of Gordon’s hand at all, not even as they situated him in a private hospital room.

Now Jeff wasn’t holding his hand. The hospital had insisted on checking out the father’s head, which he begrudgingly let them do, but as soon as they were done, he was right back in his son’s room waiting for him to wake up, This time, however, he was afraid to regrip his son’s hand. As if Gordon were fragile, made of glass.

The thought made Jeff chuckle. Gordon? Fragile? No way in hell.

The chuckles ever so slowly turned into sobs before Jeff could help himself.

He’s cried a lot since being back on Earth when learning what his sons have been up to. Crushing hugs given to his no-longer kids in the spur of the moment, but as selfish as it was, he never remembered outright sobbing at any of the admissions of horrors.

At least, not until right now.

---

Each brother had a turn to watch over Gordon, even Alan, who had the excuse of still being able to do homework in a hospital room, but now it was Scott’s round to brave the uncomfortableness of these damn chairs.

He was reading one of those awful gossip magazines to get a good laugh. What could he say, some of the shit they came up with was priceless. The laughter distracted him from everything that threatened to take over his mind. His despair at Gordon’s physical state, his rage at The Chaos Crew for causing this: he read something about the latest Bachelor of the Year’s secret weight loss trick and forgot all about it.

It was as peaceful as the situation could be, that is until Scott heard moaning from the bed.

Subconsciously gripping the magazine a little tighter, probably leaving permanent creases, Scott slowly looked up with wide eyes, and he meant slowly. Some bleak part of his mind hoped that if he took long enough what he was expecting to see wasn’t actually happening. Too bad, it was.

Gordon was laying in his hospital bed (as if he could go anywhere else), bandages and casts adorning just about 90% of his body. What made this sight different was the glassy, whited-out eyes to go with his white medical garments. Scott was pretty sure Gordon would be shaking his head even more if there wasn’t a neck brace in the way, “No… can’t… stop… no feeling… anything…”

Dammit dammit dammit-- worst older brother ever.

Shooting out of his chair but carefully meandering to his little brother’s bedside, trying not to scare him any more than he was, Scott gulped as he tried bringing his brother back to planet Earth, “Hey, buddy… it’s going to be okay. You’re not…” That word shouldn’t be dirty, why was it dirty? “Paralyzed... You’re in a lot of pain, and you’re gonna need a lot of rest, but you won’t need therapy.” Not this time, thank God.

For a second, Scott thought he did it. Gordon’s eyes were still glassy, but his eyebrows were more creased in a way that said he was thinking about something, not in that way that said he was in pain. Scott inhaled, but then choked on that breath as he watched Gordon’s crease immediately go back to the latter kind, “No, I can’t… not here… please… no more…”

Gordon hated hospitals ever since WASP and Scott was an absolute fool for not thinking that it would come down to this.

Taking a deep breath and leaning back away from his brother, Scott panickedly pulled out his watch and conceded, “John, fuck, help me out.”

The ginger shook his head and blinked. He was about to try and joke, after all, Scott called him rather abruptly, but then he saw the way Scott was practically disheveled and got serious, “Okay, what’s the situation?”

Scott ran a hand through his hair, “Shit, it’s Gordon. He’s stuck in a pretty bad flashback of some sorts and it seems like I’m not making it very far, or maybe I’m not trying hard enough. God, fuck, I’m awful, I just can’t--”

“Woah, okay, back that right up, Scott,” John held his hands in a surrender position. The last thing anybody needed was two brothers deep in a panic attack, “First of all, you’re not awful, pretty sure seeing Gordon in that state would freak anybody else out, you just have the added benefit of knowing that it feels like absolute shit, and second of all, back to the important thing you literally called me for: is he struggling in a way that is hurting himself or destroying his surroundings?”

Scott swallowed the metaphorical rock in his throat. He knew John was probably reciting stuff he and Virgil did for the eldest when he had an attack and he hated it, but John didn’t need to know that, “N-No, he’s just glassy-eyed and can’t hear a damn thing I’m saying.”

John sighed. Or maybe hissed. Scott wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to really find out. The astronaut explained, “Alright, this is going to suck a lot, but the only thing you can do is watch Gordon and make sure he doesn’t break himself or anything around him. If you’re feeling lucky, you can maybe touch him if you don’t think it’ll make it worse, but otherwise, murmur quiet reassurances and don’t leave him until you are one hundred percent sure he’s back in reality, okay?”

Scott could feel the sweat dripping down his back as he nodded, “Okay. Thanks, John.”

The ginger simply nodded before flinching at the alarms that blared in the background, “Dammit, got to go, Scott, duty calls. Virgil, Alan, and Kayo are doing just fine, just so you know and before you panic over anything else like you probably want to, got it? See you soon.” With that, John saluted and cut the call.

It took Scott a few seconds to bring his wrist down to his lap. Staring at said lap, he was reminded of the task at hand when Gordon mumbled more pleas. The only one Scott was able to make out absolutely ripped his chest in half, “Pls… jus’ wan’ Dad…”

Barely stopping the tears from falling, Scott shakily reached one of his hands out and gripped the wrist that wasn’t in a cast, gently squeezing his younger bro’s arm and immensely relaxing at how it genuinely calmed the swimmer down, “Just hang on buddy, you’re gonna be fine.”

He had to be. Scott couldn’t handle a repeat of the hydrofoil.

Nobody could, least of all Gordon.

“Just hang on…”

Scott hoped his thunderous steps didn’t scare anyone, whether it was the private landing strip employees or the hospital ones, he didn’t know. The Colonel called them about an interesting situation she had landed herself in. Notice: replace interesting with horrifying and you’ll get the gist of how Scott was feeling.

She professionally listed off all the facts: serial-robbers that were too sneaky for their own good robbed the place the business party that Gordon and Jeff were at was being held without knowing a dang party was happening. Scott’s father mentioned it was spur of the moment, so maybe that’s why they never considered it. Regardless, as they tried leaving, security saw them and that left them to panic and take control over the place.

They saw Gordon and mistook him for a different WASP officer (Scott desperately tried holding back a snort at that statement) and promised to leave everyone unharmed if he helped them escape in a goddamn hydrofoil. Those bastards were lucky they got locked up. Scott had such wonderful ideas for releasing stress if he ever met them in person.

It didn’t help that the Colonel said his father was injured in the process. Total killer stress relievers those men would have been.

Shaking his head, Scott asked the receptionist where Gordon Tracy’s room was and took no time getting over there. The door was shut, which Scott was grateful for. Taking a deep breath, Scott slowly entered the dark room and prepared himself for whatever he was about to see.

To be honest, it wasn’t as bad as he was expecting it to be. It was still a little rough, but he did have an entire plane ride to think of the worst to come, so if there was anything to be wrong about tonight…

Shaking his head once more, Scott tiptoed into the room and fully grasped the situation. Gordon was physically okay for the most part. He looked like he was thrown through a Kentucky Twister and back, and the oxygen mask only highlighted his paler-than-normal skin tone, but for the most part, he just needed some sleep and familial care.

Jeff was also okay. He was going to have an awful crick in his neck with how he was sleeping in that chair, but the square bandage that adorned his forehead was all that Scott could see was wrong. Realizing the world wasn’t ending, Scott exhaled a relaxing breath and walked over to sit next to his father.

Right as he did, Jeff stirred, and Scott simply waited for the older man to fully wake up. Once he did, he practically jumped at seeing Scott but also sagged his shoulders in the same movement. Scott could always help him form proper thoughts, “Scotty, thank God… it was--”

“Awful? Terrible?” Scott finished for him, and he was only partially right. The eldest continued for a little bit more, “Aunt Casey explained some things. Geez, one of your first business excursions back on the planet and it ends with you getting beaten over the head, heh, I… Father?”

Scott stopped at Jeff’s shaking head. The father looked at Gordon for a little bit before turning back to look at Scott with wide eyes, “Jesus, Scott, I-- he-- Gordon was practically screaming when we got him back from those robbers. Terrible is barely scratching the surface.”

Scott full bodily flinched at Jeff’s confession. God, he kept being bad at this. Of course, Gordon would have a major freakout over being forced in a hydrofoil again. Totally not like one didn’t nearly wipe him off the face of the Earth or anything, “Yeah… Listen, I know this gives off the wrong vibe, but sorry you had to see that. Man, you’re just having a bad time finding out about what we’ve been through while you were gone, huh?” Scott leaned back into his chair and formed a loose grin on his face.

Jeff somewhat relaxed at his son’s words. He was reminded that this could be a lot worse, and since it wasn’t, he felt that it was easier to truly let go, “Don’t worry, I get what you mean.”

Scott shrugged before sitting up again, just so he could make his words more professional, “This is Gordon’s story, but I will give the general details to ease your mind, as well as that concussion. Right after he got his gold medal and after his first few months into college, he decided to apply for WASP. Needless to say, he got accepted and it, uh, didn’t end well.”

Now it was Jeff’s turn to full bodily flinch. Trailing away from his eldest child, he absentmindedly examined Gordon once more. It felt odd seeing him so peaceful after what had to have been the worst panic attack of his life. Swallowing his spit, Jeff wasn’t looking at Scott as he spoke, “Thank you, Scotty. For watching over them. I know you probably think you didn’t protect them as much as you could, but from my eyes, you did more than enough, and I will never display enough gratitude for everything you must have done in my absence.”

Nodding, Scott wasn’t sure how much he believed those words, but they did feel nice to hear, especially from his father, “Thanks, Dad, that means a lot.”

The two men glanced at one another with toothy grins, telling one another that panic time was over and that everything was alright. Like a mirror image, the two leaned back into their chairs at the same time, both watching the bed in front of them the whole way.

Now it was time to wait.

---

Oi, hangovers were the worst thing on the planet.

Groggily sitting up, Gordon shook his head as he tried remembering what the hell happened and why he felt like he got squashed by Virgil in ‘Two. Right before asking himself how much he had to drink at that party, he was suddenly aware of the oxygen mask over his face.

Oh fuck.

That’s right. That happened.

…

What else was he supposed to say? Other than wanting to sag back into the pillows behind him, which he did, he was truly lost. He probably knocked off whatever few years his dad’s lifespan had left after his eight years in space, so that was great. Bringing his hand up, he rubbed his eye in annoyance.

Taking his hand away, he looked to his left to see two figures in his room with him: Scott and his dad. Heh, figures Scott would be here. Probably thought Gordon lost a leg or something. As for right now, the brunette was fast asleep and somewhat drooling on his chest, which brought momentary joy to the blonde. He shut his eyes and chuckled a few times.

Gordon abruptly opened them after realizing something. Looking back at his family, he blinked and finally noticed that his dad was, in fact, not asleep like Scott. He was awake, his wide eyes only rivaled by how hard he was gripping the chair’s arms.

Before Gordon could say one of his famous one-liners or potentially start screaming at the top of his lungs like a bad comedy, Jeff was over him and wrapping him in a giant hug. Oh. Not sure how to process the situation, Gordon simply hugged his father back, albeit much softer. He was still pretty exhausted from previous events.

It was a few minutes before Jeff’s voice rang out from his back. It was husky in a way that Gordon knew the man was barely holding back everything that wanted to spill out, “Before we go forward, before we decide what to do from here,” Jeff leaned out of the hug and kept his hands on Gordon’s shoulders. Gordon youthfully gasped at the sight of tears on his father’s cheeks, “I just want you to know how damn proud I am of you boys, how proud I am of you. You all became fine young men, and I couldn’t be any more excited to call you all my own.”

Gordon was glad the oxygen mask was still on. Tears were leaking down his face, and his waterworks tasted significantly salty, so that could at least be averted for now, “Thanks, Dad, I’m happy to call you my father too.”

Jeff could only grin and squeeze his shoulders. They stood there in that position for a while, neither wanting to move or look away from the face in front of them out of fear the peace would be shattered. Gordon was going to need to tell Jeff how the man nearly came back to one of his children in a wheelchair, and Jeff was, of course, going to cry his heart out just like he did over Scott’s mission or John’s isolation.

But for right now, everything was okay, which something all of the Tracys wondered if they would feel again.

The click of a camera could be heard. Jeff turned his head slowly while Gordon peered around his father’s side.

Scott was cheekily grinning and holding his phone horizontally, “Oops, did I accidentally take a picture? My bad.”

The other two men rolled their eyes, and before Jeff could tell his eldest off, Gordon shook his shoulders to loosen them and reached behind him, “Alright, fair enough, Scott, you got me on that one. But can you,” with the speed of a dolphin, Gordon yanked one of the pillows out from behind him and chucked it right at Scott, “Take this?!”

For one with such good reflexes, Scott didn’t do much in avoiding the soft projectile that nailed him right in the face, nearly making him drop his phone. Gordon started laughing his ass off as the fluffy object slowly slid off his brother’s face like badly made slime, and Jeff couldn’t help his laughter either.

Scott always did lower his defenses around his younger brothers.

Too bad those same younger brothers loved abusing that fact.

Jeff grinned to himself.

Nah, not abuse. Playfully take advantage of.

That was more Gordon’s style, and Jeff was just glad that didn’t change about him, no matter what he’d been through.

[sethrine-writes]

Smile, Light of the World

Fandom:  Devil May Cry 5

Pairing:  V x Reader

Words:  2335

Warnings:  Mild sexual tension, Mildly suggestive

Commission Request:  900 words, set within their fic’s universe, some sexual tension between V and the Reader that is built up without touch until the very end, where a small gesture unravels the tension into a tasteful fade-to-black.

A/N:  This was a commission by the positively lovely @fivetail/@one-equal-temper It was such a delight to delve into the world of One Equal Temper! Thank you so very much for commissioning me! As you can see, I got carried away in the best of ways.

------

Thankfully, the day was clear and bright with the sun’s rays beating down upon the ruined, upturned city that was Redgrave. It was a beautiful early afternoon to what might as well have been considered the tail-end start to the end of the world, but a beautiful day, nonetheless.

Already, the plants on your balcony were looking a bit perkier than normal. With the days tending to be on the dreary end, courtesy of the massive demon tree growing toward the sky some distance away, you were beginning to worry over a few that really needed the sunlight. By whatever graces above, perhaps a farce of luck from below, they were getting exactly that, thriving through the impending-apocalyptic state of the city you called home.

The thought of it had you grinning as you carefully snipped away a few dead leaves from some of the smaller greenery. All those tall plants were greedy little things, soaking up the most light – you would have to move some things around to ensure they all had a chance to flourish in the warmth of the day.

“There is a Smile of Love, and there is a Smile of Deceit-”

You paused in your pruning, turning from your crouched position to find V leaning against the opened balcony door, eyes roving the page of his poetry book as he held it before him.

“-And there is a Smile of Smiles, in which these two Smiles meet.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you recite that one, before,” you spoke almost wistfully. V’s voice had a way of making you feel like that when he read to you, spoke to you, wistful and longing and soothed to the very soul.

“The moment felt adequate,” he mused, eyes continuing where he left off from the poem. He must have been keen on just saying those few lines, and that was fine. He had a tendency of doing that, and whatever words were said usually had some sort of significance to them.

It was a rather sweet gesture that he let you in on his inner thoughts through those very poems he so loved; at least, you assumed it was.

What did he mean by those particular words, exactly?

“So, which one is mine?”

Your question must have caught the mysterious man off-guard, because he looked a tad on the surprised side at your inquiry, nearly confused.

“Which one is your…?”

“My smile,” you iterated, “which one is it? Loving, deceitful, maybe somewhere in the middle? Maybe it’s none of those. Huh, never really thought about it, until now.”

You watched V’s expression change to that of thoughtfulness, and you wondered briefly if he hadn’t quite thought of it, either. No, that didn’t seem right – V wouldn’t have recited such an obvious thing that eluded to something more if he didn’t have any intent behind it. It may have been presumptuous of you to think he was referring to your smile, in general.

The question, then, was why had he said anything, to begin with?

The prompt snap of V’s book had you almost jumping out of your own thoughts. He was smiling, plush lips lilting to one side and green eyes holding the twinkle of something you couldn’t quite place, like a little secret, one you were privy to, but hadn’t realized you knew of, yet.

“Perhaps that is a question better answered another time.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, and the contact felt exposing, electrifying. You waited until he finally turned away to let out a semi-shaky breath, blinking a few times to compose yourself.

That was…that was definitely strange, but in a good way.

The sun was getting a tad too warm against your neck and your face, you decided, and the ache in your head was becoming more pronounced. It was time to go inside.

It was an apt excuse to the warmth in your cheeks, at least.

---

Something had changed during that bright, sunny day, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, not at first.

Whatever it was, it was subtle, if not maddening.

V still went out during the day, doing his best to rid the surrounding area of any lingering demons while venturing further to eliminate what he could. He would come back, always a bit haggard, casting a lingering, lilting smile your way as Griffon squawked his praises and tribulations of the day and pestered you for the hell of it, if not just to get a rise out of you. Shadow would come out to soothe you, sometimes even growling out at Griffon for being too wordy, hilariously enough, and then you would head to bed with a little wave and a small smile, only to start the day over again come morning.

It was the same routine, but things had shifted. The dynamic between you and V had changed yet again to something just a bit more.

And neither of you were acting on it.

Not only was it excruciating, but it was also damn near driving you crazy. You were both playing by rules you didn’t even know had been set out. Nothing was necessarily different, but it was, and the tension between you both would drive even the most mundane of fools insane, you were sure of it.

For some reason, one of the unwritten, unspoken rules was to avoid physical contact. Not even a tap of fingers, and it was something you didn’t even realize was a thing until you very nearly dropped V’s mug of hot chocolate as you passed it to him at even the promise of a lingering touch.

The motion hadn’t gone unnoticed, nor had V made any inclination that he would broach the subject of whatever it was that was happening.

How utterly maddening, indeed.

In an effort to ease your tremulous thoughts one evening, you had taken to fiddling with the hospital band around your wrist, having already read your personal information on it over and over again. Surely, you were doomed to read it a few hundred times more, especially with the odd way you were feeling at that moment, fidgety and all too aware of the closeness between you and V.

He had taken it upon himself to rest right beside you on the couch that evening, the day’s events having worn him out more than usual. You hadn’t moved, lest you accidentally woke him, and found yourself gazing about and losing yourself in thought for all of barely half an hour. He had woken up from his rather brief nap some time ago, gracing you with yet another small smile, then promptly pulled out his book of poems to read over idly in the quiet.

V didn’t seem at all interested or even worried by your close proximity to him, neither commenting on the matter nor moving away. In fact, when you attempted to move, he simply stopped you with that soothing voice of his, looking up from his book to fix you with an intense, imploring stare.

“I rather enjoy the company, if you don’t mind indulging me,” he admitted quietly, and you were damned if you didn’t feel that admittance in your very heart.

So you stayed upon the couch as he read in the quiet of the room, nothing but the sound of the wind picking up outside from time to time as well as the beat of your heart pounding away in your eardrums and very nearly causing an uncomfortable headache, in the process. He didn’t seem at all concerned with your fidgeting fingers, either, or the light smack of your lips as you attempted to ignore the small distance between you, but unable to figure out exactly what to do with yourself besides remaining in his company, as if doing so satisfied both you and him equally.

It did, but it wasn’t something you were willing to dwell on for long.

“Geez, kid, you look wrung out! Didn’t take you for the kind to be on that crazy stuff, but, y’know, end of the line, and all that.”

Griffon’s voice had startled you something fierce, not having expected the avian demon to appear like that upon the pushed back coffee table. You jumped, feeling your heart nearly skip a beat as your hand pushed down hard beside you, fingers just grazing smooth leather-

“I’ll be right back,” you all but said in a rush as you nearly flew upward in your attempt to stand, nearly tripping yourself in your haste to move away, at least far enough where you couldn’t feel the tension as strongly.

You could hear Griffon making a ruckus about having said the wrong thing for all of a moment before the apartment was quiet again. You waited out a few minutes in the bedroom, taking in deep breaths and attempting to will your heart back into a semi-steady rhythm.

Something was there, but neither of you had been willing to breach the pull, to break the tension that seemed to hold you both suspended in…something or other. At the rate you were going, the tension was going to kill you.

It made you nervous, not knowing what to expect. It made you want to make whatever was being left out in the open happen, just to rid yourself of the anxious feeling and finally get somewhere.

When you turned to move back into the living room, you very nearly ran right into V, barely avoiding colliding against his towering form with a sharp gasp.

In the dim, fading light of the sunset through the bedroom window, his expression almost looked worried.

“I’m okay,” you murmured, but even your quiet words sounded far too loud in the silence that surrounded you.

You made to take a step back, but V followed you with his own step forward, and you were suddenly even closer to the man than you were before. You could very nearly feel the heat that emanated from his form, comforting as it was tempting, devastatingly so.

Whatever concern had been within his gaze had disappeared with the shift in the atmosphere, and once more, you were being suffocated in the cloying energy that had created tension between you several days ago. Speaking was out of the question; you were barely able to keep your breathing in check, let alone question exactly what was happening, if what was happening was even allowed, at that point.

V raised his hand slowly, allowing you to track the movement with your own eyes. The glint of silver against his skin caught your attention, the elongated ring that adorned him and made his long fingers look even more elegant by proxy glinting in the fading light. You followed the glossy metal’s closeness until you could no longer see it as his hand passed your face, nearly out of sight of your peripheral.

The tickling sensation of barely-there fingertips against your jawline was a startling, liberating feeling.

V was walking a thin line, apparently, teetering on the edge of breaking the tension that was coming to a head right at that moment. He was playing coy, perhaps under the pretense of not wanting to spook you away, after all that build-up.

That was what you wanted, wasn’t it, though? You wanted the tension to stop, for whatever silly game you were both playing to just end so you could finally breathe in his presence without feeling like your heart was ready to jump out of your throat.

Was it possible that, given the moment, given his current actions, he felt the same way?

You reached out hesitantly towards him, fingers brushing against what felt like thin strings, though you were unable to look away from V’s intense gaze to rightfully say so. You tugged, regardless, and felt the leathery, twine-like string loosen with the motion until the small knotted bow had been effectively unraveled.

V made no move to stop you. You were in no mood to stop.

With slow, careful movements, your fingers unraveled the string corseting V’s coat together, the dark leather coming apart in slow increments until there was nothing hindering you from parting the material and revealing the inked skin of his abdomen to the slight coolness of the room.

There was hesitation in your next move, as it was new territory, a line in the sand you had yet to cross with V. Any worries were quickly being deemed unnecessary by the way V was looking at you, intense and eager for whatever lay ahead.

You inhaled sharply at the feeling of his skin against your palm but a moment later, and the quiet groan of satisfaction that parted his lips was downright sinful.

The following kiss was expected, a natural progression to the tension finally snapping. Even so, you weren’t sure who had succumbed first to the need to be close, closer, closer still, bodies pressing against each other and clumsy hands roaming with quick swipes and rougher-than-necessary squeezes before easing into soothing caresses that spanned limbs and torsos and faces.

When you finally pulled away for air, you were laughing, breathless and delirious on the high that was V.

“Are you alright, my Starlight?”

V was faring no better, pale face slightly flushed and lips looking even plumper from your brash kisses. It was a look you found you rather liked on him, one you wouldn’t mind seeing again and again, as long as you still had on earth.

You smiled at him, full and sincere.

There was a look in his eyes, the one you noticed from before on that oddly sunny day but only just then recognized, thoughtful and contemplative and heated.

“And no Smile that ever was smild, but only one Smile alone, that betwixt the Cradle & Grave-”

“Shut up, and kiss me again,” you mumbled, stepping up on tiptoes to reach those poetic lips of his. All he could do in that moment was comply, and he did so without preamble.

[drink-n-watch]

These opening paragraphs are always the hardest part for me. Once you get into the review you can weave your thoughts through a recap of the episode and everything falls into place. Here, I have to come up with something all on my own. It’s a little intimidating. Thankfully, I can always count on my esteemed collaborator. Hi Matt, how are you?

Too much pressure, Irina! I’m fine, hope you’re well too and all our readers as well.

Actually, before we fall into it, how pumped were you to see Yayoi? Cause I was mega super pumped. I always loved Yayoi and she looked amazing with her hair down. I gotta say, season 2 must have been something. Everyone seems to have had some sort of happy ending, whereas to me, Psycho Pass had always ended on a rather bleak note with most of the cast scattered and/or hopeless but the system intact.

But I digress. Yayoi!

Yeah she’s pretty cool, I guess… Nah, you’re right, it was great to have her back!

So Yayoi is back because reasons and she’s going to help our ragtag team of  law enforcement officers while looking mighty fine indeed. We find out that some organisation, possibly to do with Enomiya is smuggling criminals in as dead bodies since the cryo sleep hides their hues. I really liked the idea although considering the rest of the episode, I’m still a bit fuzzy on the necessity of this. Seems risky, complicated and expensive when aggressive body guard robots are available. I honestly missed the set up here, Matt, can you help me fill in the blanks?

Maybe it’s cheaper to get humans to act as muscle than it is to build and program a bodyguard robot. The robot did seem pretty useless aside from being able to take a beating, not very nimble and not very smart either.

Smuggling and paying humans is definitely not cheaper, but just as useless!

Right off the bat, and throughout the episode, the enforcers had a pretty strong presence. It wasn’t just a Kei and Arata two man show (I mean technically Kei is still suspended so it can’t be). I really like how they are slowly and organically developing the supporting cast. I hope they keep at it, I feel like a strong ensemble can really elevate the series.

I agree, the more they keep building the ensemble cast the tougher it’s going to be when one of them dies (I mean it’s bound to happen sooner or later right?)

We are back in the heat of the political race only this time, it seems it’s Karina’s turn to be worried. After a visit to the late Dr. Tsuchiya’s office, Arata learns Karina’s secret, that she’s been using a hologram AI to help her during public appearances – a bit like lip syncing her campaign, and it seems someone out there wants that secret to be revealed and is not afraid to use underhanded means.

It’s an interesting way to use AI, though you gotta wonder how much of it really had a point, seems like having an AI feeding you a speech through an earpiece would be a lot easier and less open to be discovered and achieve pretty much the same results.

I have to say, I find the AI’s name “Ma-Karina” kind of hilarious. Possibly cause I’m 4 and just started singing the Macarena every time I heard it! Also, the necklace that Karina uses as a switch for Ma-Karina was very pretty. It sort of reminded me of Griffith’s Egg of the King, and considering both their significance in the story, the symbolic parallels are pretty cool.

I laughed at that too, we’re both children, apparently!

With the reveal of Tsuchiya’s personal AI and his involvement with Ma-Karina, we got even more neuroscience speak. Such as the relative metabolic need of the human brain and a short lesson on decision fatigue. Arata even mentions that humans aren’t great at thinking which is not completely false. We do tend to find every shortcut possible to reduce our decision making whenever viable and we fall back a lot on things like pattern recognition. This must affect our hues! It really does seem like season 3 is trying to weave in a bit of neurology through.

I absolutely love it but it’s not for everyone. Matt, you mentioned last week that to you this element felt tacked on and stand offish, do you still feel that way or do you think it was better integrated this week.

It was fine, there was almost too much else going on for me to really focus on it one way or another.

I’m o.k. with Kei’s roguish actions. He comes off a bit like a hard nosed cop trope in an action movie but I kind of like it. Once again, despite his suspension, Kei seems to be in the heart of the action. Going to watch Karina’s speech and calling in a potential disturbance. This means he’s right there when Karina gets kidnapped by…guys… And I mean right there. Like he swoops in to punch a guy out of nowhere when everyone else seemingly disappeared. To me Kei’s presence and interventions this week were just a bit too convenient. Ok Matt, tell me why I’m wrong.

Most of the action in this episode kind of felt a bit flat for me, from the staging to certain conveniences in how our ‘heroes’ were able to be where they were and do the things they do. It almost felt a bit Hollywood action-y, like it was less about the logic and more about the spectacle and even then the spectacle wasn’t that spectacular.

All of this is happening is some large event venue, a stadium of some sort, where the candidates were having a televised debate. Yakusiji got in a fight with one of the abductors and we didn’t see what happened to him while Karine got dragged off into another part of the stadium where the baddies are trying to force her to make a televised confession for the use of Ma-Karina. She refuses and her manager somehow bursts in, closely followed by Kei. Meanwhile the rest of our heroes have arrived and are making their way through the place.

And Yayoi is wearing stilettos! This may seem like petty nit picking but as a girl who wears high heels just about every single day, and pretty high ones at that, I know that you only wear stilettos if you want to look good and not necessarily move at all. In fact not even stand for too long. Those things hurt! Yayoi never ceases to amaze.

If anime has taught me anything it’s that women can wear anything–no matter how impractical–and still pull off amazing feats, make of that statement what you will feminists!

?

Anyways, stuff happens. Karina tries to escape and ends up on some high walkways being chased by this huge thing. Arata finds her somehow, and saves her at the last minute. Also Kei and the enforcers are there. Everyone’s fighting. The big guy turns out to be a robot. Enomiya’s robot bodyguard to be exact and I’m really wondering why they didn’t just use him instead of smuggling people. And then the good guys win, hurray!

Karina is saved and although her secret was in fact revealed she held on to her pride and didn’t make any sort of public confirmation. Meanwhile it turns out Yakusiji is just fine and he knows what’s going on but unfortunately he only told the officers and not the audience.

I believe the plan was to simply discredit Karina by leeking the existance of her AI to the public but I’m not sure why it had to be done via kidnapping during a televised speech. I guess the idea was that she would then lose the election and considering Enomiya’s part in everything and their connection to Heracles I suppose we could imagine they wanted him to win? I’m really not sure about any of this though. It’s mostly assumption. This part was a bit messy to me. I’m sorry Matt, I’m going to need your help again.

… I don’t know either, this entire middle section felt like a lot of things happening where nobody (not even the characters in the show themselves) knew why things were happening or who was really responsible but at the same time they didn’t seem to mind and just kind of got on with their days? It’s entirely possible we both missed something obvious and we’re just big dummies–I’m sure the comments section will tell us…

After the plot gets foiled Enomiya wisely decides it’s time to make themselves scarce and attempts an escape but is stopped by Azusawa. Now the Enomiya has outlived their usefulness, they have become a liability and Azusawa is there to tie up loose ends. I thought this guy was a hacker or something but it seems I’m way off. He’s an inspector so I guess it does make sense that he would be in good shape but I didn’t expect him to just easily beat the all time champion like it was nothing.

Well the impression I got was that Enomiya had been out of the game a while and was just using their status to intimidate people, obviously still capable of throwing down when needing to, but not when faced with someone with considerable strength and dexterity of their own. 

To be honest, I really didn’t bond with Enomiya at all. I just didn’t care about the character at this point so to me this part was a bit long. I would have been happy if they just dealt with it off camera and gave us the jist in some tidy little exposition blast. Maybe have Arata read it off an incident report. I would have preferred to see more of the Division 1 crew instead. Did you like it Matt?

I mean, it was fine, I absolutely understand why this series of scenes was here, we were given enough of an introduction to them in the previous episode that killing them off screen kind of would have been like “then what was the point of all that?” so in that respect I didn’t have any problems with it. But I can understand where you’re coming from, I feel like if this show was 23 minutes instead of double that having it resolved as an incident report would have been fine and a way to save screentime but considering how long these episodes are it felt ~somewhat~ necessary.

I personally disagree. Just because an episode is longer doesn’t mean otherwise irrelevant scenes suddenly become necessary.

And the, the election is over. Just like that. 5 second scene… I was all like whaaaaaa. But…huh…. Karina won by the way. No one cared that she was using a fake brain.

That didn’t bother me either, but I kind of liked how quickly they dealt with it, it’s kind of like how real politics feel all this build-up in the campaign that all ends with some numbers on a screen and someone new being in charge that doesn’t really change all that much in the grand scheme of things. The pointlessness of democracy in a peaceful society.

Obviously Bifrost was actually behind all this but why? Not sure. As far as I can tell it wasn’t to influence the outcome of the election. There were way easier ways to do it and Karina was likely to win anyways so they could have just done nothing. The main and possibly only goal was to not only reveal the existence of Ma-Karina but also show that it didn’t matter. I wonder where this is going. Or am I off track again? Not gonna lie, I had some trouble following this episode.

Bifrost to me is just a bunch of super powerful, super wealthy people pulling the strings on a level so incomprehensible to the layperson that they might as well be gods. Seems like they’re ‘betting’ on the outcomes of various things for their own benefits–and playing with the lives of the people in this city like they are poker chips on a board. It’s intentionally vague and oblique–at least that’s how I take it.

Also Kei isn’t in trouble cause the chief sneaky ended his suspension 5 minutes before he got involved in the case and didn’t tell anyone.

One thing I really did like is that Arata and Kei have very compatibility according to Sybil (and with their background it makes sense) but they decided to partner up anyways. Their relationship really does continue to be the strongest part of the show for me.

Any closing thoughts?

You only went and missed my favourite part of the episode! The conversation between Arata and Karina in the glass ferris wheel was fantastic, small moments like this as supremely smart people–one in a position of newfound power–confines in another about things like their own nature and what politics really means in a world like this was great. I couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of intimacy between these two, which makes sense since in Episode 2 Arata compared her to himself in saying they were so much alike. I’m calling a romance subplot already! Also the colour and lighting in the scene was stunning, hey look Irina I mentioned the colour of a scene in an anime, are you proud of me?!

Yeah – I almost fast forwarded through that. My least favourite part of the show so far. The colours were a good clash to the colour story so far but all in all rather uninteresting. If there is a romance subplot, I’m not sure I’ll stick it out with this show.

I honestly didn’t like this episode much. The action was a touch drawn out, a lot of scenes seemed a bit contrived and the pacing was off, stretching certain moments past my interest and condensing others into confusion. This said, as I mentioned, I did get a bit lost a few times so it really may just be a me problem. I also don’t particularly like the softening of Karina’s character. I thought she was an invigorating antagonist that could have created some fantastic conflict .

I never really saw her as an antagonist really (maybe in the first episode she appeared) she seemed to fall somewhere in between. I thought this episode was great, weakest of the four so far thanks to the middling middle section which stretched credulity and my patience but still you could do far worse so I’m still happy!

This said, I still didn’t find the show too long despite double length and was (and remain) really interested in the overall story and what exactly is going on here. I’m looking forward to next week.

Psycho Pass s3 ep4 – Election These opening paragraphs are always the hardest part for me. Once you get into the review you can weave your thoughts through a recap of the episode and everything falls into place.

[im-tops-bottom]

Legolas has been in the force for 4 years along with his father who is his Captain. He had seen some crazy shit but nothing compares to the shit he's going through now.

"what do you mean I'm off the case? Dad, seriously"

"it's for your own safety my son. He knows way too much about you. You are a risk hazard"

"since when have you ever given a shit about me?"

"Legolas"

"no. I'm staying on this case whether you like it or not Thranduil"

"that's it. Hand over your gun and badge"

"what?"

"you are suspended until further notice"

"you can't do that"

"I can and I will"

Legolas hands over his gun and badge and leaves the captains office, ignoring his name being called out. He decides that he is going to do this on his own and prove to his father how wrong the man was. He will catch this crazy stalker killer even if it's the last thing he'll do.

"Satans son huh? I'll show you not to mess with me"

Legolas looks at the picture of a question mark on his board with "he calls himself Satans son" written underneath it. No one knows what the man looks like and the only people who did were dead. After packing he leaves his desk and the building wanting nothing more than to head home and await for his dad to deal with him later.

It's late into the night when he receives a text from his father apologizing and saying that he will be out late.

"if mum was here, you wouldn't be out late but at home eating dinner with your family"

Legolas sighs as throws his charged phone onto the bed and makes himself a late night snack.

As he finished making himself a stir fry he puts some in a container and sticks in the fridge for his father. He may hate the guy but he's not mean enough to not leave him anything to eat when he gets home.

He eats his plate at the kitchen counter, preferring to stay standing when he feels hands on his waist and a voice whisper into his ear

"you're mine now angel"

He whips around and sees a body disappear into the shadows. He checks around the house and sees that no windows or doors were unlocked. He sighs and heads back to his plate to finish eating and doing the dishes.

After cleaning up he heads upstairs to shower and as he gets ready for bed he is Frozen in shock as he stares at the writing on the wall.

....

"fear not my love. I will come take you away with me and we can rule the underworld together"

Legolas bites his finger nails as his dad reads out the writing on the wall.

"Jesus. Ahh boss I think this might have been written in blood"

"okay grab some samples and photos. I want guards on watch at all times. Make sure no one other than my son and myself enters the perimeter unless advised by the bureau"

"yes boss"

Legolas keeps his eyes on the message as he sees from the corner of his eye, his father walking up to him.

"my son"

"don't father. You've already taken me off the case. It's not like you can send me somewhere safe. He knows where we live. If I move then it won't be long until he finds me again"

"how do you know it's a he?"

Legolas refuses to give the real reason in case his dad thinks he has gone crazy.

"I don't know. Just a guess"

It's good enough for his father to simply nod and tell his son that he is head back out and won't be home for dinner as he is doing a stake out. Legolas just nods before grabbing some stuff and heading to the spare room. There's no way in hell he's going to be staying in his room.

....

It's a week later of non stop love letters, social media messages, texts and calls from this mysterious person when he finally makes his self known to Legolas.

Thranduil was called to head to San Francisco for a lead on the Satans Child case so Legolas was left alone for a couple of days with no one but the guards that stood watch.

He didn't feel safe at all and his fears were made when after a hot shower he went into his room. In shock his towel dropped leaving him exposed. He stares at the man in front of him. A very beautiful and tall man.

"hello my love"

....

Thranduils lead had led him to Outpost 3. A long abandoned post that had been there since WWIII. He thought that the lead was all bullshit.

"witches and warlocks? Are you kidding me? What kind of crazy cult crap is this?"

"this is no cult. Well to us it isn't. This is just our way of life."

"okay I don't need to hear anything more you crazy lunatics. I'm out of here"

Thranduil was just about to leave when the door had closed in front of him without any help. In shock he turns around and sees the lady he was talking to still standing there.

"what the hell is going on?"

"like I said"

The lady had lifted up an apple without touching it and brought it to her.

"I'm a witch"

And bites into the apple.

"I must be on some kind of drug. What did you guys give me?"

"did we offer food or drinks yet?"

"no. Then it must be the air. It's polluted. It must be"

"those who truly don't believe in the unknown or stay closed minded are forever blind to everything around them. Unfortunately I can't help you with that. You must see for yourself and let your mind find the truth."

"alright lady enough with the riddles"

"but I have not spoken of any riddles yet Thranduil"

"how do you know my name"

"like I said. I'm a"

"witch. Yeah yeah whatever"

Thranduil rubs his face after contemplating over everything and sighs.

"fine. I'll bite. What do you know"

"your child is not safe for he who is the son of Satan has grown a liking to him. He plans on making him his bride so he can take his rightful place as ruler of hell and is set to bring nothing but distruction and mayhem to Earth. We must save your son before it is too late"

....

"who are you?"

"my mother called me Michael Langdon, everyone else calls me the spawn of Satan for I am "

"his son"

"ahh yes that is quite right. Aren't you a smart one?"

"I try to be"

Legolas wears a mask of fearlessness to hide how scared he actually is. Of all the possible shit that could ever happen, the impossible decides to come forth.

"what do you want from me?"

"I want you. Mind, body, heart and soul of course. I want you to fall to your knees and worship me. In return I offer you my protection"

Legolas jumps as Michael disappears into a burst of flames and reappears infront of him. He shakes as Michael's hand lifts his head up by the chin and stares into his eyes and deep down into his very soul. He licks his lips as a smirk is placed upon the man's face.

"and loyalty"

"what do you mean by that?"

"I have watched you for many years. From the moment you were born right up til now as I stand in front of you. I want to make you mine completely. You belong to me. Follow my footsteps. Become my bride"

"but I'm a male"

"I like how you chose that specific part to question and not the rest of it"

Legolas and Michael turn the heads to Legolas'bedroom door.

"dad"

"son"

Legolas is about to head to his father but Michael prevents him.

"Cordelia what a pleasant surprise"

"hand him over Michael and come with us"

"so you can lock me away again? You do remember how well that worked last time did you not?"

"hand over my son right now"

Michael smirks at man by the door who looks frightened. He laughs as he watches the man tremble as he let's his Horns out.

"I think not. Legolas if you wish for your father to stay alive then you shall come with me"

"don't you dare Legolas. I'll embrace death even if it means keeping you safe"

Tears fall from Legolas' eyes as he leans back into Michael's embrace.

"I'm sorry father"

Legolas looks down not wanting to look at his father as Michael holds him closer.

Thranduil screams as he watches his son disappear in a burst of flames and finally believes in everything the crazy lady was saying.

"we'll bring your son back don't you worry"

....

It takes months later for the witches, warlocks and Thranduil along with a few cops who were there that night to finally take their first step into hell.

The planning and wait wasn't worth it as Thranduil looks on in devistation. He watches his son who wears a white dress and laying on a bed surrounded by lava as he gives birth to a baby. He notices a ring on both his and Michael's fingers which means its too late. The wedding had already happened.

"even though this has happened, don't let it stop you from getting your son back Thranduil"

Thranduil looks on in anguish and despair as he sees Michael lean down to kiss the baby and then Legolas who allows it.

"LEGOLAS! MY SON"

Legolas looks up in shock and holds the baby near.

"father? What are you doing here?"

"I've come to bring you back home. Take you back to where you belong"

"oh this is marvelous. Nice of you witches to not only work alongside warlocks but to bring my new step father here to witness the birth of the new Antichrist. That really is lovely"

"son come here right now. I'm taking you home"

Michael suddenly becomes nervous as he watches Legolas get off the bed. It took him a long time to get the younger to fall for him as he had already fallen for the younger. His fears were nothing more than something that should stay at the back of his mind as he feels Legolas grab his hand and smile down at him.

'what a beautiful smile my angel has' Michael thought as he smiled back.

Legolas turns his head to face his father.

"dad I will always be your son, you know this"

"Legolas"

"but I finally found someone who gives a shit about me"

"he doesn't my son. He's only using you"

"he already told me about his plan to rule. I made him promise that if I married him then he will not touch humankind for as long as I live and not once has he shown me any harm or wishes to kill me"

Michael stands up and walks around the bed to stand next to Legolas and their baby.

"he is right. I have been in love with him for a long time. He was the only one I had wished was mine. At first it was because I needed someone to marry in order for my father to give me the throne but now it's because I want nothing more than to be with him"

""I don't care what you want. You give my son back to me now"

Legolas watches in shock as his father shoots Michael. He looks down and sees the bullet hole in Michael's chest.

"Legolas come here right now! That is an order! Forget him! Forget the baby!"

Legolas places the sleeping baby into it's crib and glares at his father. He starts whispering something and soon a giant devil makes it's appearance behind Legolas. His eyes go from blue to Black as he continues to glare at his father.

The witches and warlocks stand in front of a pissed off Thranduil as they prepare for the final battle. As they fight Satan himself, Thranduil shoots at demons coming their way while making his way towards his son.

"Legolas get here right now! We are going home! Move it!"

Legolas feels is rage rise as red orangey ambers appear around him. his eyes go completely black as fire appears out of his hands and soon enough he starts sending out fireballs.

Thranduil tries to dodge as much as he can. He has one goal in his mind and that is to leave hell with his son whether the young man liked it or not.

Thranduil stops dead in his tracks as his son pulls up a bow and flaming arrows. Most of them except for 2 misses. 1 lands right in his thigh while the other lands in his shoulder.

"Legolas!"

Legolas waves his hand and Thranduil gets sent flying towards the witches and warlocks, sending a few to the ground.

Satan gets taken down soon after and Legolas standstill in shock. For one last shock, Satan turns into a young man.

Cordelia slowly walks up to him and kneels down.

"Tate?"

The young man looks up

"who are you?"

"my name is Cordelia. We've come to set you free"

Cordelia whispers a spell and soon Tate is nothing but a glow of white light. The light floats heading straight towards the bed and disappears into Michael.

"what did you do to them? Tell me"

Cordelia walks up to Legolas and places a hand on his shoulder.

"we are saving them. Now come along my dear. There is much to discuss"

Legolas picks up his baby and leans over the bed to kiss Michael on the lips. He whispers a "I love you. Forever and for always" as tears spill. He stands up straight and follows alongside Cordelia ignoring his father all together.

....

3 years later Legolas had moved out of his dad's home and hasn't spoken to him since the battle in hell no matter how much his dad tries.

He sits on a chair out on the deck as he watches his son run around playing with a puppy. He sighs as he stands a walks closer to the stairs that lead out to the backyard grass.

He decided to move to the countryside away from his father and away from the people that helped kill his husband and his father in law. The only family that had mattered aside from his long dead mother.

He looks down and plays with his necklace that had a vial containing both his and Michael's blood. His ring sparkling under the sunlight.

"I miss you Michael. It's not the same without you"

"wow a man who said he was dead inside not only said that he loved me for the first time when I layed on my death bed but also that he misses me. How sweet"

Legolas looked up in shock and quickly turned around to see the one man he had longed for standing there in all his beautiful glory.

"Michael"

"hello my love"

"but how?"

"oh please. A measly gunshot couldn't kill me. Are you crazy? After my dad's soul was sent in to my body, it was only time before I woke up alone"

"daddy who's that?"

Legolas looks down at his son who stands by the stairs with his dog. He smiles down at his son as he nods his head towards Michael.

"this is Michael. He's your other dad. Go and say hi"

The little boy rushes over to greet Michael before heading back to Legolas yawning.

After putting the child to sleep, Legolas makes his way downstairs and is welcomed into Michael's embrace. They start nuzzling each other as if they were cats or dogs.

"I really missed you Michael"

"I did too. Don't worry I'm here now"

"does that mean we can get out revenge?"

"no not anymore. How about we become a proper family and do all sorts of mundane things"

Legolas raised a brow as he looks up at Michael.

"oh yeah? Like what?"

Michael smirks as he picks Legolas up and onto the bench before biting and sucking at the youngers neck.

"we could always give our son a sibling"

"oh God you are going to be the death of me"

"let's not hail god anytime soon. We can thank someone later after we have several of them"

"oh sweet Jesus"

"yeah maybe him"

"oh do shut up"

"make me my love"

And with that Legolas pulls his soulmate into a sweet kiss filled with love and passion.

[angelic-writer]

Lost Memories (Redux) - Prologue

“Um...”

“Hello? Are you alive?”

“Oh, this is bad! If they find out we killed a human, we’ll get sent to Hell!”

“Relax! He’s not dead!”

The man slowly opened his eyes as he came to. Where he was at, he couldn’t explain. There was no floor, no ceiling, no walls, nothing. Just shimmering lights. Yet he wasn’t falling. It looked like he was... floating? Seven little kids were standing in front of him. The one in the center had dark, brown hair and black eyes. He was wearing a black shirt with gray stripes and blue shorts. He wore short socks and black shoes. He noticed that the man was awake.

“...Oh, you’re awake! How do you feel? Does it hurt anyone? Can you see us?” The boy asked as he checked the man’s body for any wounds. The man just stared at the boy, confused. What is going on?

“Thank God you’re alive! I was really surprised. I thought maybe we had killed you.” The boy with red hair and yellow eyes said. The man looked at the boy in a suspicious manner. He had a feeling that the kids were shady and were involved in some sort of business and so they were nice to him just to get what they wanted. The red-haired boy noticed.

“Oh! No, uh... W-We’re not in the least bit shady at all! Really!” He spoke as if he can read his mind. “It’s not like we hit you with a blunt object, or pushed you off a cliff, or ran you over with a car...”

“Alex!” The girl with blonde hair and purple eyes punched the red-haired boy in the arm, making him wince.

“Ha, ha... Hah... Um, so, to explain who exactly we are... Well, we’re just spirits who happened to lodge ourselves into your consciousness!” The boy with blonde hair and green eyes said.

The man just stared at them. No reaction. No emotion. Nothing.

“Nothing? No reaction to who we are... or to the situation you’re in now?” The red-headed boy asked.

“Hey, are you really okay? You can see us, right?” The boy with brown hair and blue eyes asked, concerned.

After a moment of silence, the man said this. “I see several... bug looking things.”

“B-Bugs?!” The red haired boy exclaimed.

“Well, I was a cute little bugger.” The brunette said. “Hey! You’re still a cute little bugger.” The boy with purple hair and magenta eyes said to the brunette.

“Um... You must mean that we look like pretty bugs! Like butterflies or dragonflies, right? Well, I’m glad you understand my “ant-tresting” fashion sense!” The red-head said. The other children looked at him with a look of disapproval. He noticed and chuckled nervously.

“That was terrible.” The blonde girl said.

“Anyway, I’m glad you can at least see us. Still, you’re really calm. I thought the moment you woke up, you’d be like, “W-What? Where am I?! Who are you people?!” or something like that, but... Wait. Your personality didn’t fly off with your memories, did it?” The blonde boy asked.

Again, the man said nothing.

“T-This is bad!” The red-haired boy said as he started to panic. “A-Alex, calm down! I’m sure his personality will come back.” The blonde girl said in an attempt to comfort him.

“W-Well, for now, let me explain things from the beginning. I’m Simon and these are my friends, Fredrick, Brian, Amy, Alex, Lance and David. We’re spirits from the afterlife. We were on our way to the human world for some business, and by accident, we sort of... collided... with your mind... I don’t understand it myself, but for some reason, we’re trapped inside your soul now. It looked like you lost consciousness from the impact. A-And, well... This is kind of hard to say, but... It kind of looked like your memories skedaddled, too! What a mess!” Simon explained.

Nothing. The man just simply stared at them.

“Sorry, go ahead and yell at us. I know Simon said a lot of things that probably don’t make sense to you. But, please say something!” Alex said.

“U-Um... I... don’t know where to start.” The man finally said.

“Yeah no, you’re right. We completely understand! Ha, ha...” Alex said, chuckling nervously, then looked down.

“We’re really sorry for our carelessness. We’ll do anything to help get your memories back. Besides, if we don’t, I’m not sure we’ll be able to separate from you. I’m not absolutely sure, but... I think we’re trapped inside the place where your memories used to be. Think about it like, your memories were pushed out by the amount of space we take up. So if your memories were to return, then we would get pushed back out instead. There might be another solution, but aside from what I just said, nothing comes to mind. I feel bad that we made you lose your memories. Let’s work together and try to get them back!” Fredrick said. The other kids nodded.

“A-Alright...” The man said.

“Alright!! Thanks for understanding. I kind of expected a “You better start running!”“ Alex said. Amy giggled. “I would’ve understood completely if you were that harsh with us.”

“You’re pretty accepting of things, huh? A very mellow temperament... It might be strange to say, but I’m glad it was your mind we got stuck in. Well... I guess that’s just how it is. From now on, we’ll work with you as hard as we can to get your memories back. We’ll do anything you need us to do. ...Is what I want to say, but we actually have some limitations. We can’t interfere with the human world. We can’t touch you and you can’t touch us. What’s more, people around us won’t be able to see or hear us. So we can’t investigate much for you, and we can’t move in your stead. In fact, we can’t move more than ten meters away from you! I said we’d do anything, but... But it looks like all we can really do is cheer you on.” Lance said, looking down.

“W-Well, it’s better than having no one, right? No matter what, we’ll always be on your side. I promise it won’t be like, “The culprits were the child spirits all along!”“ Amy said.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” The man said, smiling.

“Thanks. I’m happy you would say so. Ehehe. Then let’s do our best together!” Amy said, smiling back. Simon then looked at the man, concerned.

“So, you really can’t remember anything? What about your name? Do you think you can at least remember your name?” Simon asked.

The man closed his eyes and tried to remember. Nothing came up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember a thing. Just as he was about to give up, he remembered someone calling out to him.

Someone calling out his name.

His name...

“E-Eric... M-My name is... Eric.” The man said.

“Eric...? Is that your name?” Simon asked.

“I think so.” Eric asked.

“I see, that’s good. It’s a good start to remembering! Alright then... There’s no point staying here, so let’s go back to your world.” Simon grabbed Eric’s hand and started walking when he stopped him.

“Wait! Um, before we go, I gotta ask... What is this place?” Eric asked.

“Hmm? What is this place, you ask? It’s hard to explain... The space between dimensions... That’s the closest description. This world has many possibilities. And there exist as many parallel worlds as there are possibilities. For example, in one world you may be going to school, and in another, you may be just working. This is the space between those many parallel dimensions that isn’t connected to any of them. To put it bluntly, right now you’re suspended in the rift between worlds. But... We don’t know which world you came from. Oh, but... Any world is a world that you were in. There’s no such thing as right or wrong with parallel worlds. So let’s go back to the world you were in, and recover your memories! There are lots of ways to do it, like talking to your friends, or looking at your phone’s history.” Simon explained.

“Oh, but just a sec. Be very careful of who you trust.” David said. Eric and Simon both looked at him.

“Why?” Eric asked.

“Humans are brutal and cruel beings. You should only tell people you really trust about your amnesia. Otherwise they might try to give you memories you’ve never had. Like, “You own me 10,000 dollars so you’d better pay me back,” or something. There’s no way you could tell if what they said was true, right? Some horrible girl might introduce herself as your girlfriend and take you away from your actual one. You might be told you don’t have a job, and then get fired later on. Or someone with no relation to you tricks you into joining a pyramid scheme! Or maybe you’d wind up in a situation where you find yourself being shipped off overseas! Right? It’d be terrible if that happened, right?” David asked.

“Uh, can’t I call the police?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. But it’s not like the police know who you are, right? In that case... What would happen to you, then? If you said you had amnesia, wouldn’t they force you into a hospital? You’d probably be confined to your hospital room until your memories returned. Even if you were allowed outside sometimes, for the most part you’d be shut up inside, right? For other people, that might be okay, but for you, it isn’t! Your memories haven’t disappeared because of any mental or physical problems. They’re being pushed out by our existence. So staying home or at the hospital wouldn’t help. In fact, without stimulation, you’d just get worse. Sitting around, spacing out in the hospital room without any memories would worsen your mind. You might forget how to drink water, or even how to breathe! Advice to Avoid Such a Terrifying Ending... #1! Gather information! Try to actively meet people and investigate what kind of person you used to be. Who you, your family, and your relationships were, and what you were doing. Increase your knowledge and fill up that outer part of your memories. Once you do, I’m sure it’ll trigger something, and the rest of your memories should return. As that happens, we’ll be pushed out and eventually be able to separate from you. It’s a long shot, given our situation, but at the moment, it’s the best plan we have.” David looked down. “...Sorry. I keep talking about nothing but negative things.” He looked up at Eric. “But first... I think it would be good to confide in your family. They won’t believe that seven child spirits got stuck in your head, but they’ll at least provide some information. We can think more about the plan after that.” He said.

Simon nodded and looked at Eric. He smiled and offered him his hand. “Now, let’s go back to your world! The method is simple. Just close your eyes and think. With no memories to influence you, whatever world you can recall is the world that you desire. Only, I think there are several worlds like that... Choose the world that you feel is right.” He said.

Eric nodded and closed his eyes.

He is just a man with no memories. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, no idea where to go... He is lost. But, seven children came to help him and he is happy. Happy that someone was there to help him. He knows that he can trust them. As soon as he knows the people around him more, he will tell them too. He wants to get his memories back. Nothing more than that. His thinking is on that alone. And the children will help him no matter what. Even when they can’t move ten meters away from him and can’t interfere with the human world, he knows that they can still protect him if there is any danger. As he starts thinking of a world he feels is right, he starts thinking to himself.

“What will happen to me from now on? Will I get my memories back? Or will the task become impossible?”

He is then enveloped in a bright light.

((So, here’s the prologue! I hope you guys like it! :)

Eric Jefferson belongs to Cole Goodrich.

DS belongs to Mobox87 and Pole Bear.

FNAF belongs to Scott Cawthon.

Amnesia: Memories belongs to Idea Factory.))