#and I blame both those things squarely/mostly on humans

[five-rivers]

Three Twilights

Can be considered a loose sequel to Deep Sea Diver (same vibes).

Warnings: Soft body horror, Danny totally ignoring objectively horrifying things

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“I was thinking,” started Maddie over breakfast, “we could start observations of that island that came into view last week, the blue one.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ll have to use the Speeder, then,” he said. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

There was a pause as both of Danny’s parents looked at him, confused. He didn’t blame them. Danny rarely went out as a human anymore, and certainly not for anything like errands. Looking like he was still fourteen after all this time made doing anything even remotely official difficult.

But this wasn’t a human errand. “Yeah,” said Danny. “In the Ghost Zone. I’ve got to go to Three Twilights.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“It’s, um, a city,” said Danny. “Well, three cities, I suppose, depending on how you want to group them. One Realm. On the shores of the Celestial Sea. I’m sure I’ve put it in your files.” Probably a direct copy from his files from before he came clean to them, but still. He stirred his cereal counterclockwise, letting his ice powers chill the milk.

“Yes,” said Maddie, “but there are a lot of places in there. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to properly look at them all, much less memorize them.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Danny. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What kind of errand are you running, Danno?”

“I’m picking something up for a friend. A book,” he clarified. “They lent it to someone there, but they need it back.”

“A book,” said Maddie. “For the Library of Tongues?”

“No, they’ve got a contract service for overdue loans.”

“Contract service?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Moonlighting bounty hunters mostly.”

“For a library?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Danny, shrugging. “They’re really serious about their work.”

“If it isn’t for them, who is it for?” asked Maddie. “The princess? Wulf?” Wulf had actually been over a few times, and his parents had… Well, saying they got along would be an overstatement, they didn’t really have anything in common beyond ripping portals in the fabric of the universe, but everyone had been civil. “The boy at the school?”

“No,” said Danny. “Wulf would just get it himself.”

“Who, then?” pressed Maddie.

Danny put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, delaying. Maddie hadn’t eaten anything since Danny had mentioned the errand. The errand was, in fact, for Clockwork. Danny was always more than happy to do anything for Clockwork. The older ghost had saved him too many times for him to be otherwise. But Jack and Maddie were wary of Clockwork. Danny didn’t get it, but talking about it hadn’t been productive so far.

He didn’t want to lie to his parents. Not ever again.

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said.

Ah, yes, there were those suspicious looks. The ones Danny could have interpreted even without being able to almost literally taste emotions.

“I see,” said Maddie.

“Anyway,” said Danny, quickly, “if I haven’t shown you Three Twilights yet, it’s really cool. I don’t want to take the full rig, but maybe the little ectocam would be okay? The one that I can clip on.”

“Why not the normal camera with an ectofilter?” asked Jack. “That has more features, and it’s easier for us to get data from.”

“Three Twilights. It’s dark there,” said Danny. “It might work in Civila, but not so much in Naŭtika and Astronomia, and I sort of want to go down to the beach and see if I can find any star pearls, and that’s really dark, so if you want to see anything properly, it’ll have to be the sonar setup, which I’m not doing, the noises that thing makes are offensive, or the ectocam.”

“And the Fenton Phones?” asked Maddie.

“Sure,” said Danny. “But I always bring those.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, after a moment. “You do.”

“Great. It’s settled, then.”

.

Most of the journey to Three Twilights could be made by air. Or, rather, what passed for air in the Infinite Realms. But when the rocky edge of an island came into view, Danny touched down. Further in was a blue wood, and Danny walked under its inviting branches.

The atmosphere started sunny, summery. The leaves and needles of the trees were the color of a clear blue sky. But as he got deeper, the leaves were touched with sunset colors: golds, reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They fell to the ground, crunching beneath Danny’s feet. The sunset grew longer, deeper. The leaves on the trees grew sparser, revealing patches of sky.

By the time only bare branches framed the sky, it was a dusky, dim, purple. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky.

He passed out of the forest. The city of Civila rose above him. Windows glowed in the near dark like eyes.

Danny had changed, too. His aura had dimmed. The whites of his suit were now dark gray, and patterns swirled on its surface like camouflage, like wind-twisted clouds, like nebulae.

Shadows bled around the corners of the city buildings like ink in water. Will-o-the-wisps bobbed, casting pools of illumination in lieu of streetlamps. Ghosts walked up and down the streets, or floated only a few meters up.

The buildings glittered. Everything was dark, vibrant, colors. A sharp, sweet scent filled the air, something dark and rich beneath it.

The canals in the center of the street were filled with flashing fish. Or perhaps serpents. Or perhaps worms. Between how fast they moved and the dimness of the light, it was difficult to tell.

Danny could feel his irises contracting, shrinking down to needle-thin rings. His teeth were sharp. He matched the other ghosts around him. This was how the Civila liked it, how things were in this part of Three Twilights.

Everything in order. Everything peaceful. Everything civil.

Danny walked through the market square, and bought some charcoal-colored cherry pastries from a vendor who looked like someone’s nightmare demon with a chip of ghost ice.

Much to his parents’ protests. They didn’t care for him eating ghost food.

There were seven bridges to Naŭtika, which was built half underwater and half on boats that floated both on the water and in the air. As the dark waters of the inlet lapped at his feet, Danny felt the changes ripple across his skin. To a human, he would look pure black, except for the faintest glimmer of rim lighting and the stars of his eyes. He and the other ghosts moved silently, cutting through the waters like shadows.

To Danny’s ghostly senses, the place was alive with emotion and force, energy loud and crackling against his senses.

“We’re solely on the ectocam, now,” said Maddie. “You were right about that.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, half distracted by a whispered sea-shanty backed by a choir of not-voices and not-sound that wove together with the mastery of a hundred years of practice.

He glided up a rope net, and began to navigate the ropes to the taller ships. The very tallest, the ones that scraped the ever-darkening sky and blotted out uneven sections of stars, moored the glass-like ships that floated above. He’d need to reach them, to get to Astronomia.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, breaking his concentration on his path.

“What’s what?” asked Danny, whisper soft, drawing some looks. He turned, slowly, on the spot, planks barely creaking under his steps. A gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“There,” said Maddie. “By the ghost that’s registering red.”

It had taken Danny a long time to learn what color on the ectocam’s artificial sensor signified what, but he had, if only to reduce the guessing when they played this game.

“Star pearls,” said Danny, eyeing the ropes of stone that glimmered brighter than his eyes currently did. They were one of the only reliable forms of light, out on the Celestial Sea, although they were valued for other things, too.

“They’re putting out a massive amount of energy,” said Maddie.

“You mentioned them before,” said Jack. “You wanted to look for some?”

“On the shore,” said Danny. “Out past Astronomia.” He wanted to find his own, rather than buy them.

Partially because they were expensive. He didn’t really want to think about how much unmelting ice he’d have to conjure up to equal one of them. They were usually bartered in exchange for… more significant things.

The ghost by the pearls beckoned him closer, clearly hoping to make a sale. Danny shook his head, broadcasting regret and admiration for his wares. Speech might be faster but, under these circumstances, it would not be polite.

When Danny left, the social rules of Three Twilights would only leave the faintest impression on his mind. But, for now, they were a heavy, but not uncomfortable weight. One he could shrug off if necessary, but which was currently useful.

“What are they?” asked Maddie, as Danny turned away.

“They happen when big enough things fall into stars,” said Danny. “They’re all the memories of what they used to be… and the imagination of what they could become, when the star dies. Well, that’s what they’re supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really knows for sure.”

“And you can just… find these? Lying around?”

“Not… not really,” said Danny, slowly drifting towards a crow’s nest. “It’s like that one national park. That one where you can collect diamonds? You never really find anything good, but you can look.”

“I see,” said Maddie. “So, you don’t expect to find one?”

“Yes and no,” said Danny. “If I don’t expect to find one, I probably won’t. Unless the sea is feeling ironic, which it usually is, apparently. I mean, it’s an ocean and the stars. And prophecy is, like, ninety percent irony, but mostly for an outside observer. Which honestly makes sense, I think. An observer, not an Observant. Those are different things.”

The kind of silence on the other side of the line was the one that emerged when Danny used too much ghost logic.

“Anyway,” he continued as he scaled the crow’s nest and started traversing the glass ropes and chains to the all-but-invisible glass ships, “no, I don’t really expect to.”

The path to Astronomia was a staircase carved from moonstone harvested in October, when the moon was full and orange-red. It burned Danny’s eyes to look at and feet to walk upon. Like many ghosts who fixated on things like astronomy, he adapted quickly and thoroughly to the spiritual dark.

This darkest twilight was built of delicate bubbles, whorls, and arches of glass, any of which could cradle a ghost, all of which could be phased through with impunity. There were no true roads here, but certain places were easier to travel through. Addresses were carved in the glass in glimmering, holographic sigils made from glass-caught starlight that humans would never be able to read, but Danny could understand with a glance. It was not silent in Astronomia, the high wind sung through the glass like the immense instrument it was, playing ethereal and eternal music that mirrored heaven.

As always, Danny was enraptured. Perhaps the stars here were not true stars, only their memory and imagination (or simulacra made from stripped ghost cores, he remembered with a shudder), but he felt so close here.

“Danny? Are you still with us?”

Danny started to reply, but realized he had forgotten, once again, that he had no mouth here.

A phantabulist played a story for a group of not-quite-children, characters made of carefully constructed light chasing each other about with vigour. Danny stopped for a while to watch the story, a parable about spiders and fish. They were common here, storytellers who plied their craft this way. The stories could be pressed into glass prisms and orbs that served as books and viewed even in other environs of the Ghost Zone.

He moved on, passing through a glass bubble full of ghosts that snatched at and stroked him as he passed by, leaving stars and dark clouds to swirl across his skin. His suit had long since smoothed over and sunk in. His skin was a thin surface, a membrane holding in liquid night. He was like smoke, like vapour, thin and easily overlooked.

The places he passed were homes, places of business, warehouses, and hotels, organized without any apparent reason. A phantabularium glowed like a struck match, snatches of story visible inside its walls. He walked by.

Eventually, he reached the palace at the city center.

The ghost who lived there was old. Older, perhaps, than Pandora. She filled the vessels of her palace in placid pools connected by crystalized threads and looping tubes. Seven round-bottom flasks, radiating outward, like the spheres of heaven. The music here was almost deafening.

This was Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Astronomia was her city, and subordinate to her will before all else.

Danny resisted the urge to kneel. He was not here as a supplicant, and they both knew it.

The lowest pool bubbled, and slowly a glass prism, a dodecahedron, floated to the top. Danny took it with careful hands and left Urania’s direct presence as quickly as possible.

Being near her was always difficult. She was the Muse of Astronomy, and she felt he did not indulge his second Obsession as much as was proper.

Indeed, she thought it should be his first.

(The starlight inside him pulsed. He was never sure how much influence Urania could exert on him when he visited Three Twilights, never sure how much the relationship between his passions shifted when he was here. He loved it here too much to stay away forever.)

Astronomia did not end all at once. Instead, as one walked farther from the palace, the delicate, clear glass was replaced by black sand. When Danny had feet again, and could feel the grains beneath them, he knew he was no longer in Astronomia, but on the Shores of Night. The Isles of the Moon were faintly visible in the distance, sea-spray framing them in silvery halos.

He felt human here. His breath moved in his lungs, and his skin rose in goosebumps, the sleeves of his t-shirt fluttering in the wind. The sea and the sky were the same, and twice as beautiful for it.

“Sorry for going silent on you there,” said Danny. “I keep forgetting I don’t have a mouth there.”

“How do you forget that?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him. “Do you think the ectocam might be able to spot buried star pearls?”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I love reading through the Twilight meta on this blog. It's amazing!

I'm not sure if you've already written about this before, but I was wondering if you could give your thoughts on how Edward feels about Jasper (and the other Cullens if you want to write that), and how that differs from what Meyer wanted readers to see?

Don't worry if it takes you a while to respond, I know you must get a lot of asks.

I actually have not.

And oh boy, let’s go there, shall we.

I’ll just say up front that Meyer obviously intends none of this. In her eyes, Edward is not only a gentleman but the best and brightest of the Cullens. What difficulties he has with family members is mostly on them (i.e. Jasper and Rosalie) and he’s certainly not contemptuous of anyone.

Alice

Alice is the one Edward is closest to by far and I’d say the one he comes closest to actually liking (we’ll get into this). He feels a strong sense of kinship with Alice, sees her as the resident fellow Cullen freak and supernatural protector of the family. Alice scans the futures for their protection and Edward... hears people thinking about cats miles away.

Clearly, Edward is just as important as Alice.

Regardless, if Edward has friends in this world then that friend is Alice. He trusts her implicitly with his secrets and, in general, values her opinion. Of course, when she doesn’t fall in line with what he wants (i.e. keeping Bella human) he rebels, rebels, and rebels and will very much go against her wishes.

It’s Edward’s way or the highway.

Despite this she is a trusted ally and confidante for him.

Carlisle

Edward is... weird about Carlisle. I’d say, to him, Carlisle is far more of an ideal than an actual person. Carlisle is what Edward aspires to be, the perfect man, and one he’s terrified of disappointing. Edward has very little in the form of a conscience, what usually stops him from committing any horrific act on any given day (murdering the Biology classroom, sneaking into Bella’s bedroom to devour her, murdering Saint Marcus’ Square in Volterra, murdering the entire Quileute Tribe for Jacob Black blabbering to Bella Swan) is the question “what would Carlisle think?”

Deep down, Edward knows there’s something wrong with him, and he is desperate Carlisle, above all others, never see it.

Carlisle also stands in as a replacement father for Edward, though this is really mostly on Edward. He generally doesn’t go to Carlisle for advice or guidance, only when it suits his interests to do so, and instead gleefully basks in Carlisle and Esme as his Stepford parents.

Beyond this, there is a part of Edward that thinks Carlisle is a naive fool in need of his protection. Carlisle likes to celebrate Christmas, Edward is beyond such petty things and humors him. Edward is a protector of the family, Carlisle is a hopeless pacifist who could never fight a day in his life.

Edward both thinks himself above Carlisle Cullen and hopelessly unworthy of him in the same moment. If you asked him though, Edward would say that Carlisle Cullen is a father to him.

Emmett

Emmett is a loveable fool to Edward. No one to take seriously, but Edward appreciates that he lightens the mood. Though he has no comprehension of why Emmett would choose to be with Rosalie of all people and is very contemptuous not only of their relationship in general but the fact that they actually have sex.

(Edward is very approving of Carlisle and Esme’s relationship, in which it’s strongly implied no sex ever happens. Edward, naturally, doesn’t realize most of the relationships in his family are on the verge of collapse).

Regardless, Emmett’s just one of those easy going people that everyone likes, including Edward. Emmett’s a bit crass and dude bro for Edward, Edward will only agree to wrestle once in a blue moon if ever, but he appreciates the levity the guy brings to the house.

Esme

If Edward is Son to Esme then Esme is Mother to Edward. They’re the perfect pair. Edward appreciates, Esme’s maternal softness, her mother ideal, which is what had him shipping her desperately with Carlisle in the first place. Esme will come and comfort him in times of trial and can be counted on to unconditionally support him and the family (but mostly him). 

Edward adores Esme for that and sees her as the emotional heart of the Cullens (though notably he acknowledges that Carlisle is the one with actual morals, but nevermind that).

Jasper

Edward is extremely contemptuous of Jasper. Extremely. He opens Midnight Sun musing that there’s no point in Jasper even trying to resist blood because he’s such a failure.

To him, Jasper is a waste of space, someone who has no business being a member of the Cullens except as an extension to Alice staying. He appreciates Jasper and Alice’s completely dysfunctional relationship but mostly for what it means for Alice.

Jasper came from a background Edward doesn’t like, struggles with thirst which Edward doesn’t like, and is also far more intimidating than Edward which Edward doesn’t like. Edward has a clear complex about his physical prowess, Jasper aggravates that as this makes him and Emmett the de facto fighters of the Cullens. 

After New Moon, and Jasper nearly ruined everything by eating Bella, his contempt becomes near loathing I imagine. 

Rosalie

The only person in the family that Edward is more contemptuous of than Jasper is Rosalie. Edward loathes Rosalie.

She ruined the nuclear family dynamic he had going on with Carlisle and Esme, he’s horrified and upset that Carlisle would go and turn that shallow bitch Rosalie of all people, never mind her horrific gang rape. Edward, is, in fact, so upset that he clings to this fantasy that Carlisle only turned her to be his bride (yes, this is worthy of a post, but given Edward in every other situation I think it’s highly likely Carlisle had a stray “wouldn’t it be nice” thought one time and Edward jumped on it. Finally, a sane explanation of why Carlisle would ever turn stupid Rosalie)

To him, Rosalie will always be a vapid, self-centered, vain, shrew who is unworthy of him and the family in general. He resents though grudgingly acknowledges her incredible will power, that she has a better record than him and carried a bleeding Emmett miles down a mountain at such a young age.

Even this, he will only acknowledge as “pigheadedness”.

I imagine, by the end of the series, he loathes her even more. He blames her for the Volterra incident, never mind that she was the only one willing to tell him Alice’s message and that the fault’s more on Alice for saying the vision was a certainty before checking. She also protects Bella when she’s pregnant, which yes he ultimately comes around to Renesmee, but she stood in his way and I don’t imagine he’ll forget that any time soon.

Some part of Edward is always ready to lay into Rosalie. When they’re discussing the van, Edward can’t wait to bring up that one time Rosalie murdered her rapists. It’s barely in context and mostly comes across as a desperate attempt to seize the opportunity to point out her heinous flaws.

[cupcakemolotov]

At Horizon’s Edge

I promised @lalainajanes​ a space fic sometime before Covid, so that could have been two years ago or three, who can remember anymore, but here it is. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read the story at A03 here if you prefer!

Synopsis: Sometimes when a girl goes on a shopping trip to pick up a new pair of boots at the local, and somewhat hostile, human space station, she accidentally aids and abets a prison break instead. What happens in the black really doesn't stay in the black.

Warnings: Alternate Universe; Alternate Universe - Space; Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Alien Cultural Differences; Alien Technology;  Werewolves; Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known; Werewolves in Space; Werewolf!Klaus; Alien!Caroline; Mostly Alien at Least; prison break; Accidental Rescue; Some Gore; Non-OTP Charachter Death; Found Family

                                                              -

Caroline slid into her pilot’s chair just as the comm on her dash beeped for an incoming transmission. Glancing over at the seat where her co-pilot sat, Enzo gave her a grim look. He didn’t agree to her plan, and she didn’t blame him. She wasn’t usually given to bouts of insanity but every day in space was a new one, and sometimes life tossed surprises at you with the impact of live grenades.  

“Five minutes until gate clearance.” He paused and then sighed, rolling his shoulders with a reluctant acceptance. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

So did she. 

Five minutes was an eternity when facing the guns of the space station they had just left. Named after a moon in the humanities home solar system, Titan was one of the few remaining stations that still traded directly with Earth. They were also very proud that they maintained the largest population of pure blooded humans outside of Earth Solar System, even by Earth’s exacting standards of what was considered human these days. 

If she’d cared to check, the history logs on her computer would tell her all about the wars that had nearly decimated Earth and its colonized planets, of the laws that banned anyone who carried alien DNA in their veins. The justifications of a world terrified by how humanity could change in the cold void of space and their desperate, grasping fingers trying to avoid change. 

Caroline had long since stopped caring about earth’s collective opinions, and the stars cared not all about the blood in your veins. Not all of humanity bent to fear, the far flung colonies that still lingered though they’d been abandoned by their home world. They’d learned to adapt, to change. There were wonders and nightmares in space that Earth could never imagine, but right then, none of that was particularly helpful. 

What she cared about was getting out of Titan’s airspace as quickly as possible without getting blown to bits. The conversation she needed to have to do that would require her to be very, very careful. Blowing out a breath, Caroline hit accept. 

Half a heart beat later, and the familiar eyes of Marshal Tyler Lockwood popped up on her screen. He looked worn, older than the last time she had seen him. The thick black of his hair had faded to more gray than the salt and pepper she remembered from their last conversation, and the creases in his forehead, and at the corner of his eyes, were a sign of his human heritage more than any of the military patches on his uniform. 

Old. He had started to look so old. 

“Marshall Lockwood,” Caroline said, tucking away any hint of sorrow. “This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He grimaced, his face telling her exactly what he thought of either of them enjoying this call. Her ex-lover did not enjoy being reminded of their past, which was why she made a point to do it every time he initiated one of these little catch ups. A little pettiness always did wonders for her mood. 

“Forbes. You’re leaving early.” He looked down, the line between his brows deepening as he clearly checked something on his tablet. “We had expected your stay at the station to last for another 48 standard hours.”

Brows arched, Caroline tipped her head to the side and studied him. “I wasn’t aware that you were watching my flight plans so closely.”

A hint of derision entered his eyes. “You are dangerous, Forbes. I keep an eye on dangerous things.”

She was dangerous. But not in ways that Tyler could plan against, and they both knew to target her specifically because of her heritage went against a dozen interstellar laws. His team could enforce station laws while she was standing on it, but here, on her ship, minutes from making a FTL jump, what she did should have been of no concern to them. This wasn’t space owned strictly by humanity, where it could control its population down to its DNA. 

Tyler was walking a fine line. 

Smiling, she settled a bit more comfortably in her chair. “Awe, that’s so sweet of you. Being so concerned about your people. I think you’d be more relieved to see the back of my ship than making demands to justify why I would leave when we both know you're not entitled to that information.”

His mouth tightened at her jab. “Generally that would be the case but you’re predictable. This breaks your usual pattern, and that gives me cause for suspicion.”

She shook her head in false exasperation, deliberately misunderstanding him. “My personal life is none of your business, remember? You made that choice decades ago, no reason to get sentimental now in your final few years.” 

Her words were below the belt, but Caroline had never really been able to help herself where he was concerned. Walking away from her, walking away from the future they had been building together had hurt. Decades had softened the sting, but some scars still bled. 

“I wasn’t asking for personal reasons.” His words were clipped, the edges sharp and cutting. 

She laughed. “Such lies you tell. But there isn’t anything dramatic about my departure, Tyler. Your collection of goods suck right now. Did someone piss off High Command again? Would it honestly kill you to announce it when you have trade-shortfalls? Manifests exist for a reason, you know, and it’s such a waste that your ‘council’ won’t let anyone bring in additional goods. Seriously, I could have avoided this whole trip and it would have saved me some time and docking fees.”

Absently, she wondered if his jaw got stuck like that these days, clenched down on a brutal line that left the muscle jumping tautly. “You expect me to believe you couldn’t find the correct dress size so you decided to ignore two days of your itinerary? I know you better than that.”

Caroline scoffed. “Actually, you don’t know me, Tyler. It’s been fifty years since we last had a conversation that didn’t involve us insulting each other. Your personal opinions about my love of a well organized schedule are outdated.” The lie slipped easily from her tongue, and next to her Enzo rolled his eyes. She flipped him off, just outside of view of the camera. “My irritation at the lack of proper boot sizes available aside, you’re not usually this pushy. You want to tell me what’s really going on? And why you need a scapegoat?”

Tyler’s jaw turned to stone for a long moment, and she forced herself to appear bored. Every moment he delayed was another that they crept closer to their escape. He finally unlocked it enough to speak, words harsh. “We had a prison break.”

She didn’t have to fake her surprise, brows arching high at both his reluctant admittance and what it meant. Very, very few people knew that Titan had an advanced and secure prison system. Dear Old Earth had always enjoyed making its problems vanish, and Titan was one such place they used to keep their hands clean. Those shipments from Earth of goods and perishables that made Titan so popular as a trade station came with a dirty secret: in the belly of those ships were people. Political prisoners, murders, terrorists, inconvenient witnesses who needed to disappear. Titan housed them all. Some would be kept in the cold bowls of the station and others shipped off to one of the max-prisons deep in the black of space. 

None of them ever escaped. 

That Titan was a prison was a dirty little secret and not one that could be allowed to get out. But such secrets, buried in metal and technology, were very hard to hide from her. Tyler knew it, though he was bound to keep some of her secrets. As she was bound to keep the worst of his.

“You don’t lose people.” Caroline said slowly. “What happened?”

“He had help.”

Brows coming together at the word ‘he’, she frowned. “And now you want me to find him.”

Tyler’s face could have been carved from stone. “No, Caroline. I want to know if he is aboard your ship.”

Next to her, Enzo lifted three fingers in her peripheral vision. They’d only been talking for two minutes and it’d felt like twenty. 

“Tyler, that’s far fetched even for you. I don’t let random people on my ship. You know that.” She didn’t have to fake the bitterness in the curve of her lips. “If I remember correctly, it was a major point of contention in our relationship.”

He ignored her, only the flex of his jawline a sign that her words had hit home. “I want to board your ship.”

“Absolutely not,” Caroline said flatly. “You have no grounds.”

“I have more than enough circumstantial evidence.” He spread his hand in her view, eyes like flint, shoulders square. “We scanned your ship, and while there are only three bodies registering onboard, we both know you have the capability to hide someone.”

She arched a brow. “That’s a violation of at least three treaties, Tyler.”

Marshall Lockwood didn't seem bothered by that. “I also know that there are at least two smuggling compartments on your ship that are capable of housing a human for short periods of time without them suffering from asphyxiation.”

There were now four compartments, and all of them could hide people for up to four hours without risking asphyxiation but were rarely used for such purposes. Smuggling people was difficult, goods were safer. Goods didn’t talk about ships and captains and give people ideas. But there were some things she couldn’t stomach, and sometimes a girl needed to be prepared. 

But Tyler didn’t know that. 

It’d been fifty years since she’d let him step foot on her ship. And unfortunately for him, she was hardly the only crew member with secrets. Smuggling had brought such interesting bedfellows into her life, and she’d violate more than three treaties to keep them safe. But her ex didn’t need to know that, and none of it would save her, if he opened fire at her. The point blank range of those canons would destroy her and everyone who would be caught in the crossfire. 

Right then, Tyler was a problem and she could show no weakness. 

“Circumstantial evidence of what exactly? “ she tilted her head and let scorn drip along her words. “That your super secret prison had an escapee and I am conveniently close to blame? That is ridiculous and we both know it.”

“You’re a Tech Witch.” 

Next to her, Enzo tensed at the derogatory term and Caroline let her smile sharpen. Her mother’s blood wasn’t an unknown quality of hers, but saying so here, on this channel with who knows how many witnesses, put him perilously close to breaking the agreements that bound them both. 

“Marshall, my ship cleared your security systems ten minutes ago. We accepted the standard cargo check before we left the docking bay, and I am told they were very thorough. Other than requiring a scapegoat in the form of my non-human DNA for whatever inside job you're attempting to cover up, you have nothing.” She nodded when he remained silent. “You have nothing.”

Something beeped, and he glanced down. When he glanced up, nothing had shifted on his face. “I could request you return to the docking bay or face the canons, Forbes.”

Caroline shook her head. It was a threat, but here, for now, she had the upper hand. This kind of PR move for humanity would be costly, but Tyler didn’t worry about those decisions. But him, personally, and the blackmail she had?

“We both know why you won’t.”

The skin near his eyes visibly tightened and she let her smile dimple. They both knew her death would act as a trigger for a number of unpleasant consequences for Tyler. What bound them was contractual, but she had never trusted him to do more than keep the letter of the law, and today had proved she’d been correct in her assessment. If he could have violated the spirit of their contract, he would have. Lucky for her, he couldn’t. Tyler’s secrets could destroy everything he had worked to build in his life, and even now, less than a decade or two from his death, he wouldn’t risk her ruining him. 

Her previous lover had always been a coward when it counted. Earth had its enemies, and so did Titan, and she knew almost all of them. Today might cost her, but it could cost him far more. 

Letting her knowledge show on her face, she showed her teeth. “Do you even want to tell me who it is that you lost that has you so desperate?” 

There was a long, long silence as he stared at her and she just waited. Time was on her side now, the clock burning down. In the back of her head, she counted down. 

Sixty seconds. Fifty-five. So close. 

The gleam behind Tyler’s eyes turned calculating, and he dropped the name as if it was supposed to mean something, as if it was supposed to bring the weight of her guilt crashing down on her shoulders. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

Caroline just stared at him in surprise; she hadn’t expected him to tell her. The ghosts between her and Tyler faded a little more every year. Humanity might have extended their lifespans as far as they could be stretched, but they would never match those whose DNA held the remnants of long lived, non-human races. Soon Tyler would be one of the few living memories left from the single year of her life she had spent planetside. 

Klaus Mikaelson was another. 

Gathering her thoughts, Caroline shook her head, forcing herself to focus. “If he is alive, he should be nearing a century on a planet with less medical knowledge than your Station. He should be either senile or dead.” She pushed back a loose strand of hair that slid into her face, the pale gold as much as her mother’s blood as her fathers. “Out of all of us, I’m the only one cursed, remember?”

Next to her, Enzo made a grunting noise of disagreement, his disapproval clear. She waved a hand at him. Her hidden clenched fist relaxed as Enzo bared his teeth but started the sequence to activate the first of what was going to be several jumps. Right then, she didn’t care how much he hated Tyler. They’d be harder to trace once they arrived at the major traffic lanes, but first they had to make it. She didn’t dare take her eyes away from her screen. 

Tyler sighed, the sound deep and an echo that caught in her chest. His dark eyes creased, and for the first time the Tyler she’d once known peaked at her from behind the Marshall. “You’ve never been gifted at lying, Caroline.”

She laughed at him, the sound bitter. “No, Tyler. You’ve just never believed me when I spoke truly. I was never your enemy.”

His face told her that he didn't believe her. He never had. “I won’t forget this, Caroline. When we prove that you helped, and we will prove it, not even your precious interstellar laws will be able to protect you.”

The call ended just as their clearance to enter the gate came through. Caroline cut the open line, and immediately started backtracking through her systems to make sure that Tyler hadn’t tried to leave her a present. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Earth, and it’s subjects, tended to see laws as flexible when it suited them. 

The initial scrub didn’t take long, she’d never skimped on security and her ship did not endure itself to strangers programs, and the surface diagnosis came back clean. Jaw set, she triggered the deeper scrub that would erase the identifiers that they had used to dock at Titan. 

She’d known she’d have to burn the remaining dregs of that life soon, but hadn’t expected it today. Better to make a clean cut, erase her existence here in Pure Human Space now than end up in the darkness of its prison, driven mad by the hum of machines she could hear but not touch. 

“Ten seconds until FTL.”

Switching to her main screen, Caroline pulled up the screens to monitor their progress. Closing her eyes as the universe started to blur with the faster than light speed jump, she inhaled slowly and didn’t breathe again until the sound of space tearing around them drowned out the anxious rush of her heartbeat. 

-

It took twenty minutes after they passed through the gate to clear enough space to make the first jump. They didn’t quite dare engage their cloaking device until they left the jump points. It took another precious half hour before they finally winked out of existence as far as radars were concerned. But the muscles along her spine didn't relax until Enzo finally gave her a nod.

“We’re clear. No one followed us, which means they didn’t have enough time to scramble a ship. We’ve got a sixty minute window before this airspace becomes too hot for us.”

Caroline laughed. “Good thing we won’t be here that long. Go ahead and start planning our next jump.”

Enzo tipped his head. “Are we sticking to our plan then?”

“For now. I don’t want to risk picking up a tail, and they won’t be able to follow us from here. As long as we stay out of Federation space, we should be okay for the short term.”

For now. If they were going to stay that way was entirely dependent on what exactly she had gotten them into. Grimacing a little, she hit the comm button. “Bonnie? Everything alright down there?”

There was a pause and then the droll voice of her closest friend came back over the mic. “So far everything is holding up. I did a fast scan once we cleared the gate, and I didn’t find any extra tech that might have been dropped in the ship.”

“Thanks, but we’re clean.” She pressed her hand against the panel, listening to the hum of engines and the computers that were as familiar to her as the back of her hands. The curious hum of its voice. “I’ll be down shortly to deal with our pickup.”

“Better you than me.”

Enzo leaned back, watching her with dark eyes as he waited for her to finish her conversation. “You sure this is what you want?”

Caroline snorted and unbuckled herself. “I think it's a little late for second guessing, don’t you?”

A shrug. “We could space him.”

She laughed, this one far more genuine. “If he threatens you or Bonnie, I promise, he’ll find himself ejected. But until then…”

Enzo crossed his arms, gaze dark. “You think he might know something about your mom.”

Eyes sliding shut, Caroline sighed. She wished she could have given him that as the reason, but it hadn’t been. Not then. Now… “I don’t know if anyone knows what happened to my mom.”

“Be careful, Gorgeous.” Enzo’s mouth tightened at the corners. “The past can make you bleed.”

She knew that far better than anyone should, but arguing with Enzo about unnecessary reminders wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Yeah.”

Tipping back into his chair, Enzo studied her. “I’ve still got a friend or two on that station. I could arrange it so Lockwood stops being such a problem.”

She shot him a look and he shrugged unrepentant. “He has no teeth.”

“Gorgeous, we both know that’s hardly the truth. He’s going to do his damndest to make your life difficult. Even if he sticks to your bargain until he dies, you’ve got nothing to protect you after his death.”

Caroline shook her head. “Legacy means everything to Tyler. I don’t think he’ll so easily let me ruin it.”

Enzo snorted but turned back to his computer. “I’ll make the next jump.”

Understanding it for the grumpy acceptance but not an approval that it was, Caroline lifted hand to acknowledge she heard him, and left the bridge. The door closed behind her, leaving her in the quiet corridors, only the sounds of her boots loud over the hum of the ship as she walked. 

She wished she could explain her impulsive reaction to Enzo, wished she could find the words that gave her actions any kind of logic. Particularly since she couldn’t explain to herself. 

Walking around the corner, she found Bonnie waiting on her. There was grease smeared on one cheek and her mouth was pulled into a frown. Sighing, Caroline rubbed her forehead. “Are you going to yell too?”

Bonnie seemed to consider that, the data pad she held tapping against her thigh before she sighed. “I’d like to. But would it do any good?”

“Probably not.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She held out the data pad with a sigh. “I still have a bottle of that shit you call liquor in my room. When this is over, you’re going to owe me an explanation.”

Caroline’s fingers curled around the peace offering. “It’s a pretty long story.”

“You noticed I said an entire bottle?”

There wasn’t much she could say to that. “Deal.”

Bonnie nodded and tipped her head towards their small medbay. “Good luck.”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded and pressed her palm to the door, unlocking it so she could step inside. He was waiting for her, the familiarity of him the same punch to her system as it had been before. He’d lost the horrible prison uniform, Bonnie must have felt far more charitable than she’d wanted Caroline to know. But then, her friend had spent her own time in the prison uniforms herself and still avoided the color orange. 

But that meant he was now shirtless, his bandaged ribs on display, his expression guarded. 

Caroline gave herself a moment to absorb that change in perspective, to take him in. The tumble of curls still touched the tops of his ears, but he’d cleaned up his beard so that only a short stubble remained, leaving behind a man’s face, thin from his time beneath Titan but hardly weak. His eyes were gold touched blue, and awareness brushed down her spine. The decades since she had last seen him were stacked behind his eyes, visible in the way he had grown into his skin.

But the impact of him, the jolting rush of recognition from earlier still lingered beneath her skin. The sudden awareness of who he was and the bone deep hello she couldn’t explain. Which made no sense, had made no sense when she was hauling his ass through Titan. If the boy who had once been kind to her was buried beneath lean muscle and a hardness she recognized from her own mirror, she didn’t see him. This man, with his steady gaze and roughened features was a stranger.

She didn’t know what to think of the way he watched her. He brought so many complications with him. Tipping her head, she arched a brow with more casualness than she felt. 

“Werewolf, huh?” Caroline kept her voice even, and the edge of his mouth curled. “I’d have remembered that if you’d mentioned that little detail before.”

He took his time responding, gaze dragging down her body in a thorough perusal that left her skin tingling as if he’d touched her. “Caroline Forbes. I must say, you were not who I was expecting.”

She snorted. “Yeah, well, me either. I wasn’t there to rescue you.”

His gaze narrowed. “Then why were you there?”

Caroline kept her voice bland, shifting her weight to tap one boot against the floor. “New boots.”

And Klaus Mikaelson blinked at her as if the words that were coming out of her mouth were in a dialect he had never heard before. She felt a perverse amount of satisfaction from that. The Klaus she had known had been a few years older and nearly unflappable, outside of the mercurial moodiness of his temperament.

“New boots.”

“Yup. And lucky for you that I decided I needed them. There are reasons that Titan has never lost a prisoner before.” She tossed the data pad in front of him. “I don’t know who or what you were expecting when you made it onto the surface level, but if I hadn’t found you and decided to help, you’d have been collared and sent right back into the depths of the station.”

Caroline wasn’t certain she’d ever shake the shock of it: turning the corner, and finding Klaus standing there. Klaus, who she had thought of only in the safety in the dark of space, when she allowed herself to remember that tumultuous year she’d spent with her feet on solid earth. She had hoped for him to have married, to have had a batch of sarcastic moody children, to have grown old having survived the machinations of his mother. 

Another quiet piece of her past disappearing before she’d gained even so much as a hint of a wrinkle. 

But he hadn’t, and now she didn’t know what to think. 

When she’d seen him, his beard had been too long, the shackles from his cell had still been curved around the bones of his wrists. He’d been slightly hunched, the blood on his uniform not just from whoever had gotten between him and his escape, and the way he stood said something had hurt but he was on his feet. 

Somehow, she hadn’t gotten any of that blood on her. Right then, she was regretting that a little. A single touch of his skin against her own, and she’d have managed to avoid some of this conversation as she’d been given the answers. For the first time, she cursed the prison uniform for more than its obnoxious color and terrible material.

And now here she was , struggling to understand the certainty she hadn't felt in decades when she’d seen him. Her mother’s blood never forgot an enemy, but it also never forgot a friend, and once, a very, very long time ago, she’d thought of him as such. The punch of that knowledge had been staggering as they’d stared at each other, too much between them, and she’d heard the alarms blaring from beneath the soles of her feet. 

She hadn’t been able to turn, to leave him like she should have. Swearing at him, at herself, she’d moved forward and slid her arm beneath his and gritted out an order to stay quiet and to follow her. 

And he had. Now here they were. On her ship, trying to outrun the long reach of Titan. His gaze finally left her face and lowered to the datapad before returning to hers in a silent question.

“Bonnie is med-trained,” Caroline lied easily. “She did a data scan before I came in when she was tapping up your ribs. I know earth uses the prisoners below Titan for experimentation, but did you ever hear them mention what they were putting into your blood?”

“Bonnie,” Klaus said softly. “Is a witch.”

She didn’t lower her eyes. Esther had been a witch. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Not even a flicker of a lash. “No.”

“Because if it is,” Caroline said, “I will toss you into the airlock myself. Werewolves can last for a few minutes in the black, you know. Not long enough to live, but long enough to fight for it.”

The yellow in his gaze spread in a wash of power. “Threats already?”

“Duh,” she replied. “This is my ship, my crew. I might have saved you, but you try to harm them, and you’re going to see what it’s like trying to breathe in a vacuum.”

Klaus laughed, low and rich, and it ran across her senses like a touch. “Your threats have gotten better, love. I approve.”

Caroline snorted. “I’m touched. Really.”

He didn’t move towards her, but the sudden intensity to the way he watched her, the wolf clear in his gaze, left her very aware of the careful distance and one table between them. “I think you’ll find that even here, on this ship you’ve claimed and marked as your own, that I am not so easy to destroy.”

She didn’t doubt he believed that, that he was capable of horrible things, even injured, but she refused to give him an inch. Not here, not now. Not yet. Not when her ship would tear itself apart to protect its heart. “So says the werewolf that had to be rescued from humans.”

Klaus’ gaze narrowed, a flicker of deep seated rage there and gone again. “The result of an unfortunate betrayal, one I plan to deal with as soon as I am off this ship.”

There was something dangerous there, something terrible that kept her from asking the questions that lingered on her tongue. “Are you going to be a danger to my crew, Klaus?”

His head angled to the side, and there was nothing soft about his expression. “Will you believe my answer?”

“You’ve never lied to me before,” Caroline said slowly, feeling her way through the strange sense of knowing she hadn’t been able to shake. The buzzing of her mother’s blood. She wanted to believe him. “I don’t have a reason to think you’d start now, though you were apparently keeping some pretty big secrets.”

Klaus went motionless in front of her, the flex of his jaw unexpected as he stared at her. The wolf slowly faded from his eyes as he clearly weighed her words. “I intend no harm to your people, Caroline. Witches or no. But I cannot say the same for my enemies.”

She shoved her fingers through her bangs. “And just who are they?”

“Why did you rescue me, Caroline?”

She blinked. “Does that matter?”

A hint of a dimple curved along his cheek, and Klaus crossed his arms, leaning against the table. She tried very hard to ignore the shift and flex of muscle, the bare skin still on display. The fascinating movement of his tattoo. “Very much, I’m afraid.”

She mirrored his stance, arms crossing across her chest. “And why is that, exactly?”

“Caroline.”

“Klaus.”

“I’ve answered a number of your questions,” he pointed out in a reasonable tone that made her teeth clench. “It's only fair that you do the same, don’t you think?”

“I wasn’t the one rescued.”

His teeth gleamed in the lighting. “A man has reasons to be concerned when a near stranger offers him his freedom. Particularly in such… serendipitous circumstances, don’t you think? The black is full of terrible things. Slavers. Blood Witches. Those influential human scientists who wish to unlock the immortality of magic without the cost. We knew each other a long time ago, love.”

Her eye roll was automatic. “Oh yes, I’ve risked my reputation and my neck to drag you off to a backwater moon so you can become someone’s wolf bitch. How did you guess?”

The hint of amusement that had tugged at his lips disappeared, and something hard entered his eyes. “The truth, if you please.”

It was a velvet threat said in a voice lined in steel. She hadn’t liked that tone from him when she’d been seventeen, and she liked it even less now, knowing of the wolf that lived under his skin. She forcibly reminded herself that she’d have questions if he’s just up and rescued her too. Locking him in the med bag until he was reminded of his manners wasn’t a smart decision. Yet, at least. 

She lifted her chin and held that inhuman gaze, unblinking. “You were something of a friend, once. I hadn’t forgotten that and I have no love for cages. Though I suppose I should worry why humanity decided to bury you in their favorite graveyard. There are some things even I won’t look past. Are we going to be enemies, Klaus?”

Truth and lies, they tangled together and she wondered if he saw them. None of that had been in her mind when she’d seen him, none of that had mattered. Her reaction had been inexplicable and confusing, and it wasn’t something she was willing to discuss. Not now, preferably never. 

“You don’t want me as your enemy, love.”

Caroline scoffed. “I’m not sure I want you as my friend. The last werewolf I made an acquaintance of was a real dick, and this conversation isn’t shaping up to prove you’re much different.”

“And would that werewolf happen to be the esteemed Marshall Lockwood?” His words were casual, as if that information actually existed outside her head. As if he knew. But Klaus had known Tyler once, and that made her wonder. 

“Marshall Lockwood is not up for discussion .”

Klaus brow arched with intrigue. “So the rumors are true.”

“That would depend on the rumors.” It was a strain, to hold that slightly bored expression. To keep her pulse steady. 

“Lockwood should have been promoted past Marshall decades ago.” Klaus dragged his gaze down her face, and for a heartbeat she imagined those eyes lingered on her lips. “The why’s have always generated a great deal of speculation. He passes as human, you see. He is also loyal even when that loyalty is detrimental. The rumors of blackmail, of alien involvement have been rampant for years.”

She’d made a point not to follow those rumors, and it was a struggle not to wince. No wonder Tyler hated her. But she remembered the way he’d spat Tech Witch, the way he’d made it clear to anyone around him, and that wince turned to anger. He’d made his choices. 

“You’re pretty knowledgeable for a man who was locked away in the depths of Titan.” Caroline said slowly. “Why exactly did they toss you into their comfy retirement home? Werewolves take resources to hold.”

His smile was slow and sharp. “Humanity considers me a threat.”

“That hardly makes you special.” She waved a hand towards the walls of her ship. “Earth considers everyone not fully human a threat. It’s a long, extensive list.”

“True. Let’s say then, that I have made an effort to be noticed.” His eyes glittered. “They are well aware of who I am.”

“How wonderful for you. How?”

Klaus studied her for a long moment. “When you said you couldn’t return, you meant it, didn’t you?”

Her breath caught in her throat at those softly voiced words, the memories they dragged violently to the surface. The way she could almost smell the smoke, feel the splash of her mother’s blood against her face. 

“I never lied to you.” Caroline said. “Even then.”

Especially then. 

Not when she had a choice.

He gave a nod, the wolf back in his eyes, as if he had come to some internal decision. “Esther didn’t survive you leaving the planet.”

She blinked, frowned. “Esther was amassing a cult following, how did anyone get through that? And how does this answer my question?”

A sharp slash of a smile. “I killed her.”

Caroline stared at him. Esther had been his mother. “I don’t understand.”

He lowered his arms, shifting his weight carefully. “My mother… Esther was a monster. And so was Mikael.”

“They did try to sacrifice my mom, so no arguments there.” She let the bite of her nails into her palm ground her. “But they were also powerful, which is why we ran.”

And why she’d been willing to barter with Tyler’s mother to get him off that world, the one family with limited permission to leave the planet without the terrible protocols. Not that it’s done her any good, in the long run. Tyler had chosen to bury what he was and to become something he wasn’t. And she...

She’d woken to the cold berth of her ship alone, the only clue the blood that had stained the walls, the floors, of what had been her mother’s room. That ship had been destroyed in the heart of a sun, the blood too potent and the horror of it too binding. The ship sang too mournful song, a song of rage and sadness even as she watched it disappear in an explosion that erased it down to the last molecule.

“Yes,” Klaus agreed. “But by rescuing Liz, you allowed the rest of us to find our freedom.” A lowering of his lashes, charm in every word. “I suppose that means you’ve saved me twice.”

For a long moment their gaze held, and the room felt several degrees too warm. It had been Klaus’ hands who had caught her when she had staggered at the weight of her mother. Klaus who had told her to go, as the screams around them had grown in fever pitch as the fires Kol had set to burn began to consume houses. 

Clearing her throat, Caroline shook her head. “If you killed Ester that debt is even. But what does any of this have to do with you escaping that planet and pissing off enough people you got tossed into Titan? Stop avoiding my questions.”

Another flash of teeth, a deliberate god behind his eyes. “And where have you been all these years, Caroline?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Hand sliding to her hip, Caroline glared. “What do you mean? Space is a big place.”

“You’re not an easy woman to find,” Klaus said casually. “Even when one knows what to look for.”

Unexpectedly, her heart jolted into her throat. “You shouldn’t have been looking for me at all.”

The dip of the crease of his cheeks, the curve of his smile were all predatory. “No?”

“My mother paid her debts,” Caroline said bitterly, chin lifting. “I owe you nothing.”

“No,” he repeated, voice softening. “You do not. I believe if anything, if what you say is true, I owe you.”

Her gaze narrowed, but his eyes didn’t waver from hers. Motioning towards the pad on the table in front of him, she firmed her words. She was done discussing her mom. “I bet Titan’s food sucked. I’ll find you an energy bar while you read that report.”

She turned her back to him, and it itched along her spine. But even a werewolf couldn’t get a clean jump on her in her own ship and to flinch now would be to lose ground. Digging through the supplies they kept for emergencies, she found a shirt that would probably fit with something like regret. Another drawer for one of Bonnie’s stashed meal replacements, and she walked over and set them both in front of him. 

For a moment, she imagined she could feel the heat radiating from his skin, even with the table between them. She shook the thought off, ignoring the way she could almost pick out the scent of his skin beneath the sterility of the prison smell. Klaus, for his part, had done as she said and was looking at the data pad, the full line of his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“You’re sure this is accurate?”

“Bonnie doesn’t make mistakes,” Caroline said. “Not about this. And neither do I.”

“Why show this to me?”

She tipped her head and studied him. Considered the words she wanted to say. “Titan is full of the echoes of old ghosts. The kind humans cannot see, even in the black. The kind that skitter along nerves, that flicker with the hum of an engine, that race across a tablet screen in the shape of quick anomalies and distortions. What that station swallows, it keeps.”

There was no judgement in Klaus’ eyes at her reminder of her alien blood, the gifts that left her far more integrated into technology that should be possible. Tech Witch. If only it was so simple. 

“So you’ve said.”

“So I did.”

Those brilliant eyes narrowed. “Tell me, love. Your people avoid human space. Yet, here you are. Why?”

Her lips twisted. What few of them were left. “We avoid humanity for good reason. We… the best way to put it is we leave behind our own echoes, and too many… well, this ship would swallow its enemies too. Titan would never allow that sort of integration, but they fear it. What it could become.”

“Titan has no consciousness, no knowing.” Klaus said, as if he’d been prepared for what she would admit. “It’s halls are lined with human nightmares, not the kind your people give shape to.”

“Humanity has never been so simple.” Caroline returned. “The remnants of my people… they litter empty colonies like broken alters. What humanity tries to do with those bits and pieces could never be allowed on earth, could never be allowed to be seen as anything but human invention.”

“Nanotechnology is not new.” He pointed out, referencing the report she’d given him to read, the details Bonnie had included for him. So he could understand. “Humanity has been experimenting with improving vaccinations and healing for more generations than have passed since your people’s first contact. Even in the black, the science of it has trickled out into space. Improved healing, improved health, longer life spans as organs stop failing quite so quickly.”

“What we suspect that they have injected you with is not so simple.” She gave him a brief smile, barely more than the bitter curve of her lips. “Over the last twenty years, we’ve discovered that the scientists on Titan have been less than satisfied with the dozens of prisoners that earth sends them each year as experiments. They’ve turned their eyes towards slavers, towards their own people when it suits them. I can’t imagine how delighted they’d have been, to have found themselves in the position of having a werewolf in their grip. Whatever they injected you with, it’s going to be dangerous.”

Klaus ran his finger thoughtfully down the screen of the pad. “Experiments with what technology survived the fall of your people seems like a bit of an extreme jump in logic. Earth would never sanction such things as the fallout should it be proven would be terrible.”

She’d once thought the same. That had changed. Caroline held out her palm, nudged her chin towards the pad. “There is an easy way to tell. If Bonnie was right. If we’re wrong.”

A simple touch, and she would know just what part her people’s cast off ruins were being used in the torture of those Titan claimed as its own. To see what they had shoved in his veins, this man-made monster who might now carry worse sins in his blood than he knew.

In front of her, the line of his throat went taut, the cords of his throat in sudden, sharp relief. What blue had returned to his eyes disappeared under a wash of gold so potent, she felt it sizzle across her nerves. 

“Ah,” he murmured, voice dipping low and deep. “That might be more complicated than you know.”

She frowned. “Why? If they managed to inject you with their bastardized nanonites, touching you will let me confirm. Removing them is the complicated part.”

And would require help. Not something she thought the wolf would enjoy. Not when he was injured. 

“Tell me, Caroline, do you know why Earth, why the Federation, put such a strict quarantine on my home world?”

The sudden switch of topics sent warning fingers dragging down her spine. “You mean other than it being infested with witches and apparently the occasional werewolf, the two things they like to pretend don’t exist?” She wrinkled her nose. “I always assumed it was one hell of a prison planet.”

There were a few of those, scattered around the galaxies. Klaus’ homeworld had been unique in that it was beautiful, and it inhabited more than just a prison carved into an otherwise uninhabitable chunk of rock. But it was also full of horrors, and not all of them had been man made. 

He laughed softly, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “You’re not entirely wrong. But what they wished to trap there is more complicated than blood and magic.”

“Very few things are more complicated than either of those,” Caroline said carefully. “And all of them are alien in nature.”

The flicker of approval on his face shouldn’t have mattered. “Earth has mostly forsaken its children spread among the stars, but not all survivors consider themselves lost. My mother certainly didn’t.”

“Your mother was a fanatic.”

A tip of his head in casual agreement. “My grandmother called it an artifact, my mother thought it was a map. My father knew it for the danger it was, and it cost him his life.” He gave a careful shrug of his shoulder. “The werewolf homeworlds have long since been thought to be lost, though most people believe their Armadas must disappear to somewhere. Esther sought to change that.”

“The werewolf homeworlds?” Caroline repeated incredulously. “No one even knows if they truly exist, or if they do, how they came to be.”

A thoughtful glance from beneath his lashes. “So you do know the stories.”

“Yes, because they are stories.” She crossed her arms with a scoff. “It’s everyone’s favorite boogeyman bedtime tale. Particularly once their ships started to have more frequent sightings.”

“Enlighten me.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Of what, rumor? Urban legend? Seriously, Klaus. What could you possibly have not heard? The stories that blame witches for your existence, the gift that the black pulled from your blood? The ones that blame earth's scientists who went deep into the heart of a solar system that no longer has a name. Or my personal favorite, the ones that blame my mother’s people, though how they came to those conclusions I don’t know. They left behind experimenting on flesh and blood eons before they were destroyed. There is no fact behind any hint of a rumor that currently exists.”

“The werewolf gene is an interesting one,” Klaus murmured. “It breeds true but not always in strength. Ansel thought it had to do with our longevity, that when born on planets where it was peaceful, we didn’t need that strength.”

“Ansel?”

“My father.”

“Your…” staring at him, she struggled to find a coherent thought. It hadn’t occurred to her that Mikael couldn’t have been Klaus’ father. But perhaps it should have. Esther had been a witch, as were her children. All except one. 

“What are you saying?”

“Esther’s ambition knew no bounds,” Klaus said. “She planned to use your mother’s blood to find the werewolf homeworld, to activate the map she suspected your people had left behind. And then she hoped to conquer it. But to conquer, she needed a weapon, one she could bind with the familial bond.” Another careful movement as he rolled his shoulder. “Ansel wanted to know if having a son under the horrors of our moon would grant strength back into his line. For a while, they’re politics aligned. It was short lived, as was with most things my mother touched.”

Caroline swallowed hard at the implications of his words. That he was that weapon. That her mom was a key to finishing worlds long lost. “That’s insane.”

“Perhaps. My mother was certainly many things, and sane was not one of them. But my father.” A slow tilt of his lips, the blunt edge of his teeth barely visible. “My father was not wrong. Though he was not entirely right, based on Tyler’s pathetic existence.”

“This,” Caroline said slowly, straightening her shoulders. “Is not your home world.”

The I am not your prey, hung between them. 

His smile widened. “Esther did not expect you or your strength to defend your mother.” His wolf glimmered in jagged shards behind his eyes. “That seems to be a weakness in my family, as twice now, you have surprised me, when I know better. I’m very aware of where I stand, love.”

Strength that had eventually failed her. That had left her with nothing but the smeared remains of her family. “Why tell me this? Why bring up any of this?”

“I looked for you,” Klaus said, voice dipping into a caress that was almost a touch. “All these long years that I’ve spent among the stars. Hunted for a mention of your ship, chased every glance of gold from the corner of my gaze. And yet, when I looked for you naught, when my only thought was survival, there you were.”

Caroline’s stomach flipped at his words and she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I didn’t want to be found.” 

“So I’ve gathered.” The dryness in his tone almost wrangled a smile from her. “But finding you has never been about just want, Caroline, but need.”

She bared her teeth. “So I am just an alien to you.”

Klaus moved, a slow deliberate shift of his body to remove the barrier of the table between them. Caroline had to sink her heels into the floor to hold her position, and while he didn’t touch her, he was close enough that when he dipped his head, his breath brushed along her chin. 

“If only it was that simple.” He tipped his head, the movement strangely wolffish. “If only. You know what I am.”

Her fingernails dug into her palm as she wondered when she’d started to lose control of this conversation. “Yup. Werewolf, asshole, planet born. Big deal.”

An exhaled noise of amusement. “Alpha.”

She blinked. Blinked again. “Alpha of what? A backwater planet that eats its people regularly as it’s own wonderful world of sacrifice? Sounds awesome. Big congrats.”

A dimple creased his cheek. “You wanted to know who my enemies are, love? They are many, and varied. Earth, certainly. A number of werewolf tribes. The families of those whose son’s I left broken in my path to ruling. My inheritance from my father came with a heavy price, but it did not come without its gifts. Thankfully, the Armada did eventually see my value.”

“Armada,” she rasped. Swallowing, she tried again. “The werewolf armada. You are seriously trying to tell me you escaped your homeworld, and… what. You challenged your way right to the top of leadership? In the werewolf armada. The ships that are nearly impossible to find, that are made up of mercenary bands and other wonderful, loving people and they just let you stroll in and start killing people?”

“Yes.”

He sounded so unbelievably satisfied. “Well, clearly that didn’t stick since you ended up in the bowels of Titan.”

“Careful,” he murmured.

“Or what?” She wiggled her fingers, careful to not touch him. “You’re still on my ship, presumed alpha or not, and I can still space you. I probably should.”

An arch of his brow, though nothing about his body said he was worried about her threat. “Oh?”

Caroline gave him an annoyed look. “Have you not listened to a single thing I’ve said? Nanobites, Klaus. My people’s technology that’s been fucked about by humans into who knows what, swimming around in your bloodstream. Do you know what else they put in those things? Trackers.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ah.” She lifted her chin. “Which brings us full circle to the original problem. I need to see exactly what they injected into you, and then Enzo and I might have to remove them, which is going to be a bitch for everyone. Otherwise dumping you on a planet to apparently contact your armada to come pick you up will mean absolutely shit. You’ll be cooling your heels on Titan in a matter of hours.”

“Enzo.” His voice turned cool, the line of his shoulders stiffening. “Who is Enzo?”

“My co-pilot,” Caroline said. “And someone I trust.”

Klaus moved, a quick shift of his weight that put his nose and mouth excruciatingly close to the skin beneath her ear. His breath was hot and damp, and she froze as he breathed deeply. “You don’t smell of him. So not lovers. Good.”

Caroline spluttered and took two steps back, cheeks hot. “That is none of your damn business.”

“I think you’ll find that is not entirely the case the moment you put your hands on me, Caroline.” His eyes met hers, and there was nothing human in the expression behind them. “You marked me decades ago.”

She straightened her spine, denial on her tongue, even as beneath her feet, her ship hummed with attention. “I did no such thing.”

His laugh echoed harshly between them and he prowled towards her, the line of his jaw set. “No? I disagree. So does my wolf. You’ve been in my blood so long, what does a mere echo of your people compare? Even the other wolves, the ones who sought my favor, who wished for my benevolence never quite dared ask for more than what I offered. They too, saw the claim you’d etched into me.”

“That’s impossible.”

An amused, indulgent glance that spoke of too many things that left her so very aware of how close he was standing to her. “Is it? You know the stories of your people as well as I do. My kind have a similar belief, though it is rare away from our worlds. Of claiming, of mating.”

Her fingertips tingled with the need to feel that uncompromising edge of his jaw and she swallowed. Tried not to think of the way her blood reacted to him, the impulsive need to help him. Mate. Impossible. “Klaus…”

His head lowered, lips lingering so close to her own. “Why did you save me?”

Caroline gave a tiny shake of her head, terrified that she’d give into the need to lean just a little forward. “I told you.”

“New boots,” Klaus murmured. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” He straightened, and smiled, dimples on full display, cutting deep. “There is an easy way to tell. If I am right. If I am wrong.”

Her throat ran dry. 

Klaus spread his arms slowly, moving to lean back against the table. “Do your worst. Go ahead, tell me what runs beneath my skin. All of it. But, Caroline.”

She took in a deep breath, lifting her chin to meet those moon glow eyes, that daunting smile. 

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you, love.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

since i am obsessed <33333 with the sternclay fill you did for this prompt, can you do 57 with indruck nsfw?

Here it is! Note: this mentions mating talk.

57: we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle

This is it. Duck’s new low. Standing under the high ceilings of Wal-Mart at two in the morning, trying to decide if his dignity can take the hit of someone seeing him scale the shelves to grab the lone leftover bag of valentine’s candy.

Fuck it, those are Ghiradeli caramel squares, he deserves them after today.

Just as he’s choosing his foothold, a large, feathery shape rounds the corner. It figures that the one other customer in the store would need to be in the exact same place as him. He’ll just wait the mothman out.

Duck’s mostly used to seeing random monsters around town; back in the fifties, an interstellar gate opened up in Kepler, making it the home of a small population of cryptids know as Sylphs. When he was younger, he hated the fact he grew up in such a weird-ass place, but these days his brain barely differentiates them from the other Keplerites. They come to the national forest where he works, order their dinners in line ahead of him and, apparently, come to big box stores in the dead of night.

“Ah, excellent.” The mothman chirps, grabbing the bag of caramel squares from the top shelf.

“Hey!”

The antenna-topped head swivels, owl-like, and red eyes regard him with surprise, “Yes? Oh, apologies” he tucks his wings in “I didn’t mean to block your way.

“That ain’t it. I was gonna buy that.” He points at the bag.

The creature cocks his head, “But it was still on the shelf.”

“Yeah, because we ain’t all seven feet tall. I was about to grab it.”

“It’s not my fault you’re short.”

Duck bites back an unkind retort, sighs, “will you just give me the damn bag?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve had a very bad day and this is my conciliation prize.”

“You’ve had a bad day? I went out to a singles night for the first time after gettin dumped a month ago. Figured I’d finds someone to take home, but not a single fuckin person OR Sylph was interested. If anyone needs that candy, it’s me.”

A haughty flick of antenna, “I see your disappointing evening and raise you a reminder that it’s been five years to the day that anyone’s wanted to touch you.”

“Please, this town is crawlin with monsterfuckers, you can’t find someone to mess up those pretty feathers, that sounds like a problem with your personality.”

The mothman chirrs, annoyed, “There’s no need for such remarks. Wait, what was that about my feathers?”

Okay, so maybe Duck has jerked off to mothman porn once or twice. Or a few dozen times. He’s not about to admit that here.

“Uh, I, uh, fuck, I don’t not know, fuck-” he grabs for the bag, hoping to distract the Sylph. It works, but the mothman simply raises it above his head. Duck growls, too committed to his bad idea to back down now, and jumps for it.

A toothy grin, “Since we’re speculating, maybe everyone you encountered tonight was simply in search of a taller partner.”

“Fuck you, I’m five six.”

“What was that? It’s rather hard to hear you down there.”

“That’s it fluffball” He jumps again, fingers grazing the bag before it’s passed to the mothman’s upper set of hands. Mid-leap, he can tell he’s going to fall on his fucking knees, and a broken bone is the last thing he needs. His body acts on panic and wraps his arms and legs around the only stable thing.

“What in the world are you doing?” The mothman trills, lower hands catching Duck’s legs so he doesn’t slide straight to the floor.

“Tryin to get what’s mine.”

“This is ridiculous.” He keeps the candy out of reach as Duck tries to climb him.

“I know, but I ain’t about to let you win.”

“Gentlemen.”

They stop grappling and stare at the beleaguered employee at the end of the aisle.

“Please just get out. Don’t even worry about paying for that, it’s like two bucks and that is not worth dealing with you for.”

They both mumble an apology. Then he lunges up, snatching the bag while his opponent is distracted and bolts for the door. He’s without his car, so he’s half a block from the store when a shadow glides overhead and drops down in front of him.

“That was rude.”

“So was insultin me.”

“You started it.” The cryptid looms over him, “and you only have minor ego bruising to blame for your short temper and poor judgement. I spent the entirety of my day arguing on the phone with government officials until one of them finally listened to me about a dam bursting north of here. I, I deserve something nice.” The last part is said more softly, as if he’s not sure he believes it. That slaps Duck back to his usual sensible state.

Duck sighs, reaches for the cryptid’s arm, “Look man, how about we-”

When his hand makes contact the mothman purrs, then flattens his antenna. Duck runs his hand up the smooth chitin, making the purr double in strength.

“I, I apologize. I didn’t even know this could happen with a human so I did not check the futures for it.”

“For what?”

“I, my kind use playfighting and chase as a mating ritual. Which, combined with those gentle touches just now, means my body thinks you’re a potential partner.”

A thrill creeps up his spine, and he pets the Sylph once more just to hear him purr, “So, uh, what should I do?”

“I suggest you take the candy and” he shudders, “walk home, and we both pretend this never happened.”

“What happens if I run?” Duck sets his hand on the down of the cryptids chest, shivering as it sinks into the fluff.

The mothman looks at him, confusion warring with desire on his face, “I chase you. And since I foresee you asking, if I catch you I will take you then and there unless you tell me not to.”

“Got it.” Duck steps back, smiles when the cryptid tries to follow his touch and then catches himself. He could just walk home and wolf down his hard-won candy. But they’re right by his shortcut through the forest to his house and no one has wanted to chase him for months…

He takes off into the trees.

For the first few yards there’s no sound but crunching leaves and his breathing. Then soft, determined wing-beats glide through the treetops. The canopy is thick here and no one but him knows this path, so he likes his odds of making it home. He even knows where the most troublesome roots are so he won’t trip and lose ground.

Duck’s nearly home when nature betrays him; a deer springs across his path, startling him and sending him to the ground. He scrambles up, listening for signs of the Sylph’s location, but the wingbeats are gone. Did he give up? Is he lying in wait up ahead? Did Duck actually lose him?

The questions spin through his mind as he scans the treetops. There’s nothing, only shadows and bark.

“You know” a voice lilts, coiling around him, “I’d think someone who worked in the woods would know many moths excel at camouflage.”

Red eyes appear in the branches to his right. He gets out a single “fuck” before the mothman swoops down and knocks him into the leaf litter. The candy hits the dirt a few feet away as he’s roughly rolled onto his stomach.

“Holy fuck.” He pants as clawed hands undo his pants and push his shirt up his back, “holy fuUUUuuck, oh christ that’s good.” He rests his head on his forearms as the mothman drags his tongue up his back again.

“Mmmmm, what a lovely little mate I’ve caught.” One set of hands pulls his pants and boxers to his knees while the other caresses his ass, “all dressed up too. I cannot imagine why others passed you up tonight but I am glad they did. Hmmm” claws prick his inner thighs as they’re pushed as wide as they’ll go, “you’re a bit aroused already-”

“Wonder why.” He teases.

“-but I ought to make sure you’re ready to take my cock.” A long, flexible tongue traces circles on his folds. He groans, pushes his hips back in hopes of getting more. The Sylph grants his wish with a purr, thrusting his tongue in hungrily. Duck moans, then snickers into his arms.

“‘At’s ‘o ‘unny?”

“F-feathers, ticklish.” Is what he manages to get out before the tongue curls and finds his G-spot, making it impossible to focus on anything but the being behind him. But the Sylph only gives him a minute of delicious sensation before pulling back.

“There, now you’re ready. I, ah, I suggest you hold on.”

“To whatAHFUCK, fuck, jesusfuckingchrist” his fingers dig into the earth and dead twigs scrape his knees as the Sylph grips his hips and shoves in all at once. The upper set of hands drops to either side of his head as the cryptid hunches over him, snapping his hips while sharp trills and chirps fill the air.

“That’s it sweet one, goodness, years without a partner and the first warm hole I can catch is a tight one, I, I do so love fucking humans for that reason alone, but you, you feel exquisite, ohyes, yesyesyes” he chirrs triumphantly and Duck moans; he’s never been able to feel a partner cum like this. When he glances down his torso, he’s surprised to see the droplets shimmering in the moonlight as they drip down his thighs.

“That was fuckin incredibleAH!” He’s flipped onto his back, the mothmans body blocking out the sky.

“Did you think we were done?” He’s grinning again, the expression as charming as the starlight on his feathers.

“Kinda? Not, uh, not that I mind if you wanna go again.”

“I do.” The cryptid lifts his legs, removing his shoes and clothes as he adds, “again, and again, and again. After all, look how much it likes you” He adjusts so Duck can see his dick. It’s not the size that startles him; it’s the series of ridges on it and the fact that it’s fucking pulsing like it’s got a mind of it’s own.

Duck spreads his legs, “Only it likes me?”

“I’m beginning to share it’s opinion” The tip presses in and the purring intensifies, “though I must say you’ll need to be far more polite and submissive a mate to make up for your--ohgoodness--earlier behavior.”

“Yeah?” Duck smirks, dragging his hands up the soft feathers of his chest, then glides them out to stroke his inner wing “how’s that for a start?”

The Sylph’s chirrs change, growing needier the more Duck pets him, “So very good. No, no one has touched my wings in years.”

Duck studies their sheen, the little speckles of grey and white, and digs his fingers deeper, “Damn shame.”

A soft trill accompanied by three demanding thrusts and then cum spills into him once more.

“Heh, you like when I compliment your feathers? Ohfuckyes” He moans as the Sylph starts thrusting, slower than before but made far more obscene by the sound of his cum being fucked back into Duck’s body.

“I, I do.” He drops his forehead to rest above the top of Duck’s head, “it’s been so long. As you said, this town is full of people who would gladly take a werewolf to bed but have...reservations about one such as me.”

“Their loss” Duck nuzzles the ruff of feathers around the Sylphs neck, runs his hands greedily along his wings, “these alone are so fuckin gorgeous there oughta be a line of folks beggin for the chance to mess ‘em up while they ride you.”

The mothman whimpers, chirps when Duck leans sideways to trail kisses along his right wing. His hips are moving lazily in time with the roll of Duck’s own and he sighs with every thrust, as if Duck is his favorite place to be.

“Got some broken feathers.” He murmurs.

“A peril of fast flights and living alone. It’s better if someone else pulls them free and grooms them for you.”

“I could do that.”

A hungry moan as the mothman noses his hair, “You’re making me wish I hadn’t caught you so soon; had we played longer, my ovipositor would have joined the fun, and you’re so wonderful a mate I ought to lay in you.”

“Jesusfuck” Duck fists his hands into his chest feathers, bucking his hips.

“Oh, do you like that? The thought of being a handsome little hole for me to stuff my eggs in?”

“Yes, holy fuck yes.”

The thrusts turn demanding, “Just one more way in which you’re perfect. You’re strong, you’ve a lovely shape” one hand runs possessively across Duck’s belly and chest, “and it only takes a little bit of vigorous fucking to make you well-behaved and willing to be properly mated.”

“Fuck, fuckin christ that’s goodOH, ohfuckrightthere” one of the ridges is catching his dick, pushing him towards orgasm, “please don’t stop, don’t you dare fuckin stop-”

“Never” it comes out in a growl, “I want to see you be a good little human and cum on my cock while I fill you up. Oh yes, yes” he smiles down at him, “it seems you’re about to oblige meAHhnnnn, goodness you tighten so nicely when you finish” he speeds up, jostling Duck as his climax renders him limp, “yes, yes sweet one hold out just a moment, nnnf, oh, ohyes” He spills into him, Duck’s body unable to contain it all and sending it running down the cryptid’s shaft and the humans thighs. Then the mothman eases out with a low chirp and sits back on his heels.

Duck flops his arms about until he finds plastic, pulling the bag of candy to him as he sits up. He yanks it open, undoes the foil, and freezes. The cryptid isn’t looking at him, isn’t making any noise. He’s just hunched forward, antenna flattening.

“You okay?” Duck finishes freeing the chocolate square.

“Yes” there’s a sniff, “yes I’ll be fine.”

“That ain’t quite what I asked.” He holds the candy out. Antenna twitch, but the mothman keeps his head down.

“I apologize, I, I meant to wait until you left but I, I got overwhelmed. You were so sweet, you let me do all that and I, I don’t even know your name.”

“That’s an easy fix. I’m Duck. It’s a nickname.”

The cryptid finally looks up, takes the offered treat between his claws, “I’m Indrid.” He pops the candy in his mouth and chews miserably.

Duck pulls his boxers on to avoid getting any more pine needle pokes on his ass, then scoots closer, “So, uh, Indrid. Is there somethin special we need for groomin your wings? My place makes the most sense as a next stop, but if there’s a special tool might be better to go to yours.”

Indrid blinks, cocks his head, “You...you want to groom them? I, I thought that was just dirty talk.”

“Can be. But I was serious; now that I got a taste of those wings, I wanna touch ‘em whenever you’ll let me.”

“This is the least likely timeline.” Indrid whispers to himself

“What’d I do in the other ones?”

“Thanked me for a good time and left.”

“See, I thought about that” Duck tentatively moves forward, smiles when Indrid allows him into his lap to stroke his face, “but then I thought, ‘this fella’s fuckin mind blowin in bed, but I wanna get to know what he’s like the rest of the time. Can’t do that if I up and leave.” He offers another chocolate. Indrid eats it out of his hand, then wraps his wings around him.

“I, ah, there’s a special oil for my feathers.”

“Should we go get it?”

“We could. Or” he smiles, hopeful, “we could go to my place tomorrow morning. After we rest at your home and you let me buy you breakfast.”

Duck kisses his fuzzy cheek, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us (Chapter Ten: Request)

← Chapter Nine 

“We only have a bag of flour to give you this time.” He handed me a bag smaller than any ones they had before. I knew this might be the last time they would give me anything for my bread, so I took it without any word, but not without a nasty look. The cloth tied around my mouth hid my frown from him as I looked down at the small bag that even had a hole in it. This wasn’t going to make more than twenty loaves and I knew I was quickly running out of my own supply. I had tried to use my extra money to stock up as harvest came, but the price of wheat flour was so ridiculous, only the government could afford it. They bought most of the stock themselves and were hiding it. This small bag of flour was probably scooped out of a big box as they laughed in tricking me. 

I walked out the doors of the stock yard, pausing as the soldiers carried out another covered body on the stretcher. I wondered if I could recognize the person if they showed me their face. I had started giving the people my own names and using the interactions I had with them to guess their positions in Shiganshina. Some refugees were nice and would have a conversation with me while I ate my allotted rations on the edge of the stage they set up. It was a precaution so the refugees couldn’t run and push over the food stand like they had done a few months previous. It happened on my day off, so I wasn’t there to see it happen, but the next day, a stage had already been built with stairs that forced them into single file lines. If they pushed each other, the Garrison now had an above view to punish and hit those who forced themselves in line. 

I had conversations with some children and taught them a hand game from my youth to pass the time. Some of their parents would talk to me too, if they were young, and ask about the situation outside of the stockyard. Since violence had increased outside the barracks, they easily found a scapegoat and restricted the refugees to only the stockyard. It had no effect on the violence, but it seems the citizens of Trost found comfort in having someone to blame for the slow downfall of humanity. 

The trio never talked to me. Their grandfather always greeted me with a smile in line and I would give him the four loaves of bread for the children. The boy, Eren Jaeger, would get into fights with the guards more and more, but he would always be pushed to the ground or saved by the girl. It reminded me so much of myself. Was he getting beat up because it was something to do? Maybe it was the only thing that would make him feel something throughout the day. I desperately wanted to approach them and talk to them, but I never was able too. As soon as I would spot them, they’d disappear to some place in the stockyard and the smaller children would crowd around me to play the “clapping game” as they called it. 

Everyday I walked home alone, knife gripped in my pocket, I thought of what I would say to Eren Jaeger if he ever was thrown on my doorstep. He probably wouldn’t care for the pity of an older woman who had no relation to him. He also probably wouldn’t care about my time in the Underground and how I thought he acted like I did. I had made a game plan and everyday would go over it and tweak some parts. I’d have the trio help me make bread, talking to them about anything. Slowly, I’d tell them I was an orphan and maybe find some relation with them. The only adult figure around them seemed to be the grandfather and that made me wary because of the situation they came from. Their parents were no doubt killed by titans. 

I took the cloth off of my mouth as I got far enough away from the stockyard and took a deep breath of the slowly freezing air. It was going to get cold again, but the farmers had predicted a nicer winter than last year. We’d be lucky to get any snow this time, but it was better because they could chance growing more late winter crops. I decided that for the end of the year, I might as well open my shop and keep the tradition of year-end and winter pastries, hoping people would buy even without the fresh fruit. Another motivation is that some of my supplies were going to go bad and I didn’t want to lose more money than I had already. People like something sweet when they’re going through a bad time, so I’d hope they’d want my sweets. 

“Eva! Eva! Eva!” I looked up and saw Elias running towards me, paper in hand. He had a growth spurt over the summer and fall months, and now he was almost to my chin. His hair was also much too long, but he wouldn’t let me cut it because apparently the other boys at school also had hair like his. During summer and current late fall, I had taken them in pretty much everyday, commissioning them to make bread with me and giving them a few slices. Since Wall Maria had fallen, their parents had gone a bit crazy and so had a lot of other people in Trost. The Order of the Walls had grown into a huge following and not just a tiny cult anymore. They were going to build a church soon in the city square and the kid’s father was too busy with that to care for the proper needs of his children. I mended their clothes, helped them with homework, and even let them sleep on my couch when they got a little too full after dinner. Their parents didn’t even notice their absence when I brought them back home. 

“Yes, Elias?” He pushed a piece of paper into my hands and I saw the hundred percent he had gotten on the spelling test we had worked on together. I was awful at spelling, but I knew enough to help him. We would use flour, spread out on the table, to practice spelling words. This past list was increasingly difficult and I had to even look at it again a few times. 

“I got a perfect score on the spelling test!” his smile beamed up at me and made me stop thinking about the year-end and the refugees for a few seconds. 

“I’m proud of you Elias. You practiced hard for this.” He started following me back to the café and I knew he probably would want to come in and do his homework on Levi’s table. It was funny that Elias had such an unconscious affinity for him. His favorite toy was still the horse, he would sit at his table and do homework, and he started drinking tea because I refused him coffee. When Elias sat at the table doing his homework, it helped to fill the void that was left. 

Levi hadn’t returned in four months, almost five this coming Monday. The only thing I had was the button down and two letters he had sent before his work consumed him. I was waiting on a reply from a letter I had sent maybe three months ago. I knew that he was still alive and right outside of Trost, but only cadets would come in and out for refugee security. Everyday, I would hear them open the gates a six and I would open the window of my apartment, hoping to see him on his horse. I’ve probably watched the Scout cadets come into Trost so much, they must know my face by now. 

I missed him. 

Elias grabbed my hand unconsciously as we walked and broke me out of my thoughts for a second time. It seemed that there were three reasons I woke up everyday. The refugees, the kids, and the Scouts. It’s good that I had things to live for now. 

“Can I do my schoolwork in your café, Eva? There’s a lot of people over at Daddy’s house today and June’s at the bookstore.” June had recently got an apprenticeship at the book binder’s shop as he had no sons to pass it down to. I had given him the recommendation and once he saw the knowledge June had about books, he accepted her in. She was mostly selling books to people, proving her worth to the book binder, before she got to learn the secrets. Sometimes she would bring back broken books he had given her and think of the ways she would fix it. I was surprised at how close she actually was in her guesses. However, her new job had left Elias to fend for himself and grow up now without his sister at his side. He would play with friends, but once they had to go home, he was by himself. I was happy to indulge him in anything he wanted to do since I was alone too. We’d be lonely together. 

“Of course, Elias. We can go pick up June when she’s finished too.” That was good enough for him and he ran ahead, turning right out of the alleyway to get to the door of the café. I wonder who would fill my days once Elias was old enough to gain an apprenticeship. Jonas would be off somewhere delivering, the kids would be gone, and Levi would be on some expedition. Maybe I’ll get a cat.

“E-Eva?” I turned the corner and stopped walking to survey the scene. My stomach instantly dropped and I felt like I wanted to throw up. Why were these two here? Elias looked up and the tall, blonde man, instantly recognizing him. Their faces didn’t seem distressed and they were just leaning against the wall of the café, horses tied to the wooden posts. He can’t be gone, I would have felt it.

“Miss Evylnn Flynn?” He was the first to speak up and Hange kicked herself off the wall, wagging her finger at me. 

“I knew you were lying to me! Both of you!” They weren’t sad or upset. He had to be fine, but why were they here and not him? I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed to not see him behind Erwin’s shadow.

“Miss Flynn, we would like to have a word with you in private?” Erwin gestured to the door of the café and I swallowed hard. Was I in trouble? Why is the Commander here to talk to me in private? 

“Elias, you can go up to my apartment and do your school work on my desk. I’ll come up and get you when I’m done talking to the Commander.” Elias looked back at me, his eyes whimsical. He was pretty much meeting his hero and I was pushing him away from it. Erwin looked down at the boy and smiled. To pay him for listening, I’d ask Erwin to talk to Elias. If he had time to come and talk to me personally, he could spend five more minutes to entertain Elias.

“Can you do that for us, Elias? I promise it won’t take too long.” He nodded rapidly and Erwin reached down to fluff his hair. As soon as he was done, Elias ran up the stairs to my apartment, shutting the door with a slam. I’d have yelled at him if I wasn’t in this situation. My heart was speeding up and, if they could, my palms would be sweating. 

“Miss Flynn?” Erwin turned and gestured to the café door again. I nodded once and walked over, unlocking the door and leading them both in. What could they want? My mind was running through a hundred scenarios. Most of them ended with something happening to Levi. The other popular answer was that I was somehow in trouble. 

Once the door closed behind me, I got the nerve to turn around and smile at them. Hange’s presence made me slightly more comfortable, but this was the first time I had met Erwin. His energy was completely overwhelming and even if he looked nice, you could tell the amount of power he had. It was like the positive version of Levi. 

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” I whipped my hands on my jacket, looking to the floor. 

“Do you have any juice? I’m so thirsty, I barely had time for lunch!” I smiled a bit at Hange and walked over to the icebox I had. The only consumers of the juice were Elias and June, so it was nice to give it to someone else. 

“C-Commander?” I asked, silently cursing at my stutter. How was he more intimidating to me than Levi had ever been? He smiled at me and nodded before sitting down at the center table. I picked out another glass bottle and took one for myself. Hopefully they liked orange.

They both were just staring at me, waiting for me to come and join them. I handed them the juice and paused for a few seconds before sitting down. They both seemed so relaxed and I was exactly the opposite. My hands were fidgeting under the table and I dare not look at Erwin. Levi would probably yell at me for how shy and weak I seemed to them. Hange even downed her juice and let out a big ‘ah’ as she slammed it down on the table while we sat there. Only then, I realized the thin film of dust on the table. If Levi found out I sat his Commander on a dirty table, it would be over for me.

“Miss Flynn-”

“Eva. You can call me Eva. If we’re going to be seeing each other multiple times, it’s better to be one first name basis.” He smiled a bit, probably to calm me down, and continued. 

“Well, Eva… I don’t know how to begin this conversation, but I believe I can start by asking you what your relationship with Captain Levi is?” I blinked and looked at Hange. She was leaning forward, smiling at me, expectant at my answer. Had they found out? Was there a reason Levi might have told them about us? What if there’s only suspicion and I’m the one who outs us because I wasn’t careful? Was Erwin trying to intimidate me off of a hunch Hange had? 

“Why are you asking?” I wasn’t going to give them a straight answer. Erwin smiled a bit, a genuine one this time, and put one hand up.

“We have no ill will with the conversation. Both Hange and I are just curious about the situation our Captain may be in. The way you answer, however, might lead to some concerns.” Well, that makes me not want to answer your question, Commander. I took a sip of my juice before sitting up straight again. If we were to have this conversation, it would have to seem like I was being truthful. My hands were still shaking as I sat them on my lap.

“What has the Captain said?” Hange almost jumped out of her chair.

“Barely anything! I’m aching to know how Levi is when he’s with you! Is he a cuddler? Does he know nothing about relationships?” My eyes widened at her answer and it made me believe that he had to have said something to them. But, why? Did they back him into a corner?

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the Captain and I are only friends. I haven’t seen him in over four months since I closed my café.” Hange leaned back in her chair and laughed crazily. I was starting to see what Levi meant. 

“I appreciate the loyalty you have to Levi’s and your private life, however, he has already informed us of you two’s relationship. We are only finding time now to come and visit, but we’ve known for a month.” I choked on my juice at Erwin’s words and wiped my mouth, swallowing hard. 

“He… did?” It was squeak and that got Hange laughing even more. So, how did they know if they were being truthful? Erwin nodded and handed me a handkerchief from his coat pocket. I thanked him and wiped the leftover juice off my hands.

“He believed it best that, as the Commander, that I know about your existence for various reasons. Hange also happened to be in the room because she is the only person who has officially met you and vogue for your personality. I had no idea about your visit to the Scout Headquarters until yesterday and that is a security risk.” I nodded and tried to calm down my racing heart. It was… interesting to finally have someone know about our relationship. Especially the Commander of the Scout’s. It was also concerning that the one who gossips the most in the Scouts also holds that information. Levi had told me how Hange revealed weekly who was having sex with who during boring meetings. 

“May I ask, what were his reasonings?” 

“As Commander of the Scout Regiment, I am the first line of defense for my soldiers. I pledge to protect them as best I can within our job description. This pledge of protection goes to their families and loved ones as well. I believe it to be Captain Levi’s intention that you are also under this hedge of protection concerning this period of political and societal unrest we are currently experiencing. He told us about a recent mishap you had with the refugees in Trost.” 

“Oh, yes, that makes sense.” He shifted in his chair and pulled out an envelope from his jacket. 

“Another reason is that I have personal services that deliver mail much faster than the average carrier and much more secretive as well. Currently, the Scout’s are being monitored for reasons I cannot reveal to you. He believes, and I concur, that if your existence is publicized to the government, you could be used as bait or a bargaining chip. Some in the government are not happy with Captain Levi’s placement and rank in the Scouts and the repercussions of his past come back to haunt him. If not now, sometime in the future.” I took the envelope off the table and recognized Levi’s wispy handwriting. A response to my letter. This made my heart sing with joy. He hadn’t forgotten to write back, but he was pushed in a difficult situation that didn’t allow him to. I shouldn’t have doubted him so much.

“Did the monitoring begin around three months ago?” He nodded and I noticed Hange was looking between be and the letter. She’s very curious about Levi’s private life, and I couldn’t blame her. I had been that interested in him as soon as he walked into my café. 

“There is information that the Scout’s have been given that can be perceived as a huge security threat if society gets wind of it. I also agree with the government’s judgement on that and am trying my best to limit security breaches in the Scouts.” That’s when the real reason they were here hit me. It wasn’t to deliver a letter and oogle at our relationship. I was a security threat to them. I was in trouble. My mind went back to the night Levi and I had before he left. Had he told them about that too? How much has he said?

“I see. That is why you came here today, I assume.” I looked him right in the eyes and he didn’t seem to have any anger in them. I remembered Levi and I’s conversation about Erwin. I wasn’t going to know at all what he was thinking until he specifically told me.

“I have known Levi enough to build trust with him. I trust him with information that is top secret and dangerous for society. If certain things get out, it could cause riots and more civil unrest as the expense of the Scouts. Levi has told me that you support the Scout’s endeavors the most out of any branch of the military. I hope that the support you have for us also translates into loyalty.” He didn’t blink, waiting for my response. 

“He hasn’t told me anything of that nature, Commander. The only thing he has told me is that he cannot morally support whatever the Scout’s are doing at the beginning of the coming year.” Hange seemed to let out a sigh of relief and I even saw Erwin sit back an inch. I understood why they might be on edge about that. They have no idea how Levi is when he is with someone like me and I am someone who frequents the refugee camps. 

“Yes, that seems to be a common theme among our officers. However, we do not have the power needed to fight back against orders directly from the government. I hope that once the plans reach the public ear, your support of the Scouts and Captain Levi doesn’t waiver. It would be a shame for the Captain to have a good thing leave him for something that he didn’t have a choice in.” I took another breath and noticed my heart was slowing down. I wasn’t going to be thrown in some dungeon and tortured for the information I don’t know. That made me feel better about this conversation. 

“Now, I must plainly state the requests we have for you. They shouldn’t be unreasonable, but I will say this is the first time we’ve had someone of Captain Levi’s rank be involved with a normal citizen. I think you can see why we have the need to be cautious and explain common Scout things to someone who isn’t in our place. You could be a security threat if you do not know proper protocol.” That was only slightly demeaning. 

“Yes, Commander. I do understand the need for me to know what I can and cannot do or say.” He smiled again and it amazed me the duality he had. He made you feel welcomed with his smile, and then completely intimidated with his status and demeanor. 

“As you are in a relationship with someone who is given classified information on a daily basis, it can be possible for it to easily slip out of Levi when he isn’t thinking. We ask you not to repeat anything you hear from Levi, even if you disagree with it. There may come a time when people you know are involved or put in danger by the operations of the Royal Government, therefore I’m asking you to bear some of the pain of a Scout officer in these situations.” 

“It seems you’re setting me up for the coming year, Commander… or at least you have a situation in mind currently.” Hange smirked and pointed at me. 

“You’re smart, Eva. I can see how you might last around Levi’s.” I wonder what they think Levi and I’s interactions are. They probably don’t think I’m the one who makes him suffer with my words more than he does me. Imagine if they knew how much I made their Captain blush. I smiled thinking about it. 

“The next request. As I extend my protection to you, I request you do the same to Levi and any Scout who is in need of assistance. Captain Levi was once a wanted man, and the government could easily turn their back on him if they deem it worthy of their agenda. There might come a time where you will have to shield or protect Levi or members of the Scout Regiment from the Royal Government. I’m best stating that, as someone in a relationship with the Captain, you may need to lie and commit treason for his or our safety. You are a part of the Scout Regiment now, and that is some of the responsibility that comes with it.” I sat there and thought that one over. It was a huge request, but not one that would easily deter me from Levi and the Scouts. I thought of the Garrison soldiers kicking down Eren Jaeger everyday, or Mitras not dispatching any MPs or food supplies to the districts struggling to stay alive. If I knew it was for the better, I could easily betray them. I owe nothing to the government.

“You don’t have to accept this right awa-” I shook my head and stopped him. 

“No, I can do that. The government has never done anything for me. I can easily betray them for a cause and people I believe in.” This made both of them smile instantly. 

“Levi was right, your loyalty and regard seems to be astounding, Eva. I believe he has found a fine woman to be with.” I looked down at my hands, trying to hide the blush with my hair. I don’t know why that compliment hit me the way it did, but people admiring our hidden relationship made me happy, I guess. Especially the Commander. It wouldn’t happen much more than this, so I should savor it.

“Am I able to make requests, Commander?” I looked up at him again when my blush subsided. 

“Erwin. You can call me Erwin, and I will try my best to accept them. If it is something I cannot do, I will have to refuse. Our positions of freedom are very different, Eva.” I nodded and took another sip of my juice. There has been something bothering me since Levi and I had talked about Erwin. 

“If you are asking me to put my life and reputation on the line for the Scouts and Levi, I must request that equally. I understand you cannot predict the outcome of expeditions, and I know we both know that Levi won’t die simply because of that. I’m specifically asking for you to protect him against the government.” He crossed his arms and I still couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I don’t think I know what you mean, Eva. You can’t be asking me to commit treason for one soldier? I am unable to do that.” I shook my head at him and formulated my next sentences. I also had a specific scenario in my mind. 

“If the government asks something of Levi that would lead to his certain death, no matter how it will help society, I want you to do everything you can to protect him from that fate. Refuse his service. Discharge him from the Scouts. Anything it takes. I know he’ll take it, no matter what they give him, but I want to be selfish for him. He’s too valuable to humanity to be lost in such a simple manner. ” 

“It seems you’re setting me up for something, Eva… or at least you have a situation in mind currently,” he mimicked my words and it made me smirk a bit. We could play the same game with each other. It felt nice to be able to be on the same level with him right now unlike the last few minutes. We were bartering back and forth. I was in my element. I could never match his strategy or intelligence, but I knew how to make a deal. 

“Secondly, give him more breaks. Every time I see him he’s tired and complaining about the amount of paperwork he has to do. I haven’t seen him in person in almost five months because of whatever you seem to be planning. At least a monthly break. You know how he gets when he’s overworked.” This made Hange laugh again and I noticed then how quiet she had been throughout Erwin’s requests. It made me think how intelligent she was as well. All the officers must be. She had her quirks, but she knew when to be serious.

“That… that is something I cannot promise you. I can try my hardest, but when we are as busy as we are now, I cannot let anyone slack off because their family requested it. You must see I have to be fair about it.” I frowned, not liking that answer, but I knew he wasn’t going to change that. I was being more selfish than I could be right now. I even had one more, morbid request to get through. This one was one that I had thought about over the last few months. What if. 

“Lastly, if Levi does die, I want you to tell me directly, Erwin,” I looked up, locking eyes with him to make sure he knew how important this request was, “I won’t believe any random cadet or Garrison soldier who comes to deliver the news and I won’t believe it if I don’t see him come back with the rest. I’ll make up excuses and scenarios. I want you to tell me personally that he’s finally gone and let me go get his things from the HQ. If it comes from you, I know it’s true. It doesn’t have to be in person, a letter would suffice, but I want it directly from you Erwin,” my eyes were pleading for him to accept, “Can you do that?” He looked back at me after thinking for a few moments. 

“Yes, I can do that, Eva. However, a letter can easily be copied and someone can steal my signature. If I do send you something… I’ll send it along with my bolo tie,” He pointed to the green orb on a cord around his neck,  “I can’t assure how quickly the news will come, but you will be the first civilian to know. This request, however, I have no anticipation of needing to do any of this.” I nodded, accepting that answer. We both had equal confidence in Levi’s ability.

“Thank you… Erwin.” I sat up and looked to Hange, waiting for her to say something. She had been leaning more and more forward as I talked through my requests. She wanted to say something, but wouldn’t interrupt her Commander for it. 

“Oh, it is my turn! I only have one request for you and then a ton of questions to ask you! Is that okay? I know you have the kid to take care of. By the way, son? Brother? Who is he?” I held my hands up and shook them ‘no’ when she said son. 

“He’s just a boy I watch because his parents don’t. I take care of him and feed him. He has an older sister, too.” 

“Ah,” Erwin nodded, “Captain Levi also told me you take kids off the street and give them a second chance. Is he one of those children?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“No, he has a home and family. What else has Levi told you about me?” I didn’t know we were just giving out information about each other to people. Hange answered my question again. 

“You own a café where he gets tea. It’s your past caretakers café. You were given it after he died. Uh, what did he say about your character? He said you’re fiercely loyal, which is definitely true, and that you’re very charitable, hence taking care of the kids. He didn’t say it all nicely like that, but I think you can guess how he said it.” 

“He said something to the effect of ‘She has this awful part of her where she puts all her faith in anyone and takes in brats to give them a second chance’, which, I understand why Levi sees that as a bad thing, but I find it nice to be charitable.” It made me laugh for the first time, Erwin trying to mimic Levi’s tone of voice.

“My request!” Hange hit the table, like she just remembered that she had one to give. I wonder how crazy this one was going to be. 

“I’ll try my best, Hange.” 

“My request is that you make him happy,” My heart skipped a little when she said that and she continued after she heard no protest, “We don’t know much about him or the way he thinks, but we do know what he’s been through. The expedition before he met you, his two friends from the Underground were eaten by titans when he wasn’t there to save them. He was getting so temperamental and would blow his lid at anyone just like that when we came back. No one could blame him, he had just lost his friends to titans and he found out that he didn’t even need to. There are a lot of details, but I’ll leave that to Levi. Anyways, we needed to get him out of HQ, so I recommended this café because I think your strawberry turnovers are excellent! After he came here, he started to change. Mellow out as much as Levi could. All the officers started wondering why he’d changed so rapidly and we thought he was sneaking out to go drink himself to death. Then, I saw you at the year-end festival with him. I knew then it was you, and think of the amazing confirmation he gave me when he kept requesting me to go get you after his injury!” I felt tears well up in my eyes for some reason. I remembered how he looked when he walked in: tired from death. I didn’t know it was the death of his friends that made him that way, and here I was trying to tease him over some tea. I was such an idiot. 

“I think you’ve made Captain Levi feel something he’s never felt before. He still acts the same towards us because he has to keep up this façade, but with you, I’m sure he’s completely different. Actually, he has gotten more relaxed around the cadets and makes them run a bit less. Slowly, your impact is breaking into his everyday life. So, my request is that you keep doing that. He’s a broken kid, but he’s found someone to heal him. That’s what he told us you do, isn’t it?” The way Hange was looking at me, I just wanted to cry then. I don’t think anyone’s ever said something like that to me. She’s putting me at such high regard for something that I so desperately want to do for others. It was a confirming moment telling me that I was doing something right. 

“I-I promise, Hange.” Her smile grew bigger and Erwin slowly stood up, signaling her it was time to go. I stood up too, but held my hand up to him.

“Yes?” 

“I have a last, small request for you, Erwin. That little boy, basically as Commander of the Scouts, you’re his hero. He’s starting to have this obsession with them ever since I got him this toy. If you could just talk to him for a bit and tell him about the Scouts? You know, minus the bad things?” He huffed once in laughter and agreed to do it. When I yelled to call Elias down stairs, he almost fell on his face when he tripped on the kitchen door. He looked up at Erwin expectantly. 

“Elias,” I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him forward, “This is my friend Commander Erwin. He knows how much you like the Scouts and can tell you about it if you want…” I trailed off at the end, but Elias had already ran up to Erwin, looking up at the man three times his size. 

“How big is a titan?!” I smiled as the two blonde haired boys sat.

Hange came over to the counter where I was sitting and hopped up there with me. I didn’t mind and made room for her, staring at the interaction that was happening in front of us. Elias was even showing him the toy I had bought. 

“So… What does Levi think about the kids?” She so badly wanted to prod Levi’s brain and find out how he ticks, but she’d have to do it through me. Now that they knew everything, I’d guess I’d tell her a little bit. 

“Levi bought him that horse. Elias doesn’t know it, but Levi said he wanted an eight year old boy to have what he wanted at that age. He’s only talked to June once I think, but he helped her win over some boys in her class. I don’t think he could tolerate Elias’s questions as much as Erwin is doing right now though.” She nodded.

“When you two have kids of your own, I think he’ll like them a bit better than he does other people’s kids.” I choked on the air and coughed loud enough that both Erwin and Elias stopped their conversation and looked over at us. Hange just waved them off and patted my back. Kids? He hasn’t even kissed me yet. 

“Hange, we’ve only been together for a few months, and for most of them I haven’t even seen him.” She shrugged and gave me her crazy smile again. 

“I don’t know, you two seem pretty compatible. Now, I haven’t seen you interact, but from what I can tell, you like each other enough. I’ve never seen someone hang around Levi as long as you have. Mark my words, you’ll have cute kids. I want to help name one!” I gave her a crazy look, willing her to stop talking about the topic. Imagine if she mentioned it to Levi, how irate he would be with her. I can’t even talk about sleeping in the same bed with him. 

“Hange, we’re not-” Erwin stood up and patted Elias’s head again. Thank gods they were done. I don’t know if I could deal with any more of Hange’s future visions and questions. Is this how Levi feels with me?

“Hange, it’s time for us to get back. We have another meeting soon and Levi’s waiting to reprimand us for coming here when he said not to.” She puffed out air like she wanted to continue our conversation further, but hopped off the counter and walked to the door with Erwin. 

“It was good meeting you, Eva. I’m sure we will have many more of these in the future.” 

“Bye, Eva! Bye, Elias! Don’t worry, Eva, he’ll be home soon! Hold on a bit more!” Hange screamed as she walked out the door behind Erwin. I could still hear her gossiping as they got on their horses and rode off back to HQ. 

“Eva, why did they want to talk to you?” Elias broke the silence as I stared at the door. Home. He’ll be home. Was I home? 

“Elias, can you keep a secret? A super, super top secret that no one else can know?” His eyes widened and he nodded over and over again. 

“Yes, I can. I promise!” I smiled down at him and ruffled his hair a bit more. 

“Even Erwin doesn’t want you to tell this secret to anyone.” That got the boy more excited to know, and I knew it would keep his mouth shut. 

“I promise! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” If Levi had already told two people, I guess I could too. What’s the harm in telling an eight year old boy? 

“Captain Levi and I are together.” He pulled a weird face, sitting down at the table and pulling out his school work. His excitement immediately dropped away.

“That’s it? I thought it was going to be a fun secret, Eva.” This little boy is incredible. The first person I tell, and he could care less.

“You’re the only person in Trost who knows, Elias. It is a fun secret!” I tried to defend my relationship in front of the eight-year-old. I guess he was picky on which Scouts he liked. 

“Eva, can I have some juice please?” I gave him an annoyed look as he completely skipped over the subject. I should’ve told June first and not a little boy who still thinks girls have cooties. 

“No, you can have it after you finish your homework.” He groaned at my payback and shifted back and forth in his chair. I didn’t waiver and decided to ignore his pleas in favor of reading the letter I had been anticipating for months. 

His handwriting was so nice and I wondered even who taught him how to write so well in the first place. My handwriting was awful because the orphanage had a limited budget for pencils and teachers. I could barely read cursive and only used it to sign my name. When I told Levi this is a response to his first letter, he had laughed at me in his reply, but wrote it all in print for me. Even his print was perfect. It made me annoyed, but they were pretty to look at in addition to their contents. They weren’t love letters by any means, but they were nice to receive and imagine what he was doing. 

Dear Mara (This one doesn’t seem to fit your face, but it’s the only one I could think of), 

As you requested in your last letter, for some reason, my daily routine: 

4 AM - I am either up or wake up from an hour or two of sleep to take a shower. The water pressure is the best at this time as no one is taking one.

5 AM - I make myself tea, now, it’s the peppermint you sent me. I thank you for that, but now my tongue can’t stand any other flavor that’s not on par with it. I’ll light a candle and do some light paperwork and plan the morning workout for the cadets, waiting for the sun.

6 AM - The cadets have 30 minutes to get ready in full gear and come to eat breakfast until seven. I eat early, limiting the interactions I have with Hange as she’s loud in the morning. 

7:30 AM - Training starts with a morning run and workout. They might do hand-to-hand after or work on ODM. Whatever I feel like sitting and watching that day, I make them do. On the days when they’re getting really annoying, I’ll make them practice ground maneuvers since it’s hard to kill titans with no trees. Recently, we’ve been starting to go over formations for the mission I can’t tell you about. 

12 PM - We eat lunch, and recently it’s been bad. The food shortage has hurt our stock and I know the Garrison probably laughs at us as they get to eat meat. We ran out of meat last week.

From then on, the cadets have classroom work to do to memorize our signals and formations. I usually do more paperwork and we have officer meetings over and over again until dinner at six. After that, surprise, paperwork again. We went to the capital to get talked over again last week, so that was a break in my routine, but other than that I do paperwork until my eyes hurt, then I’ll go make more tea and take some biscuits from the canteen. Sometimes there are small disputes I have to settle, cadets to discipline, or one-on-one meetings with Erwin. Recently, he’s asked me if I want to create a Special Operations Team with the best Scouts for the next mission and beyond. I’ve been studying and reading over the files of each Scout. Maybe, you can help me form the team if I come across any trouble picking, but it’s not like there are many to choose from. 

I plan to tell Erwin about our relationship soon. During our meetings in the capital, my position is always questioned and threatened by the four heads of the Royal Government. If they find out about any weakness, not that you are weak now that I’ve trained you, they might use that against me. If I tell Erwin about you, he can give you certain protections. Other than him, I have no intention of telling anyone else and it hasn’t seemed to come up in regular conversation. Hange always has something off to the side to say about you, and I suspect she knows something, but she keeps quiet around others. If she doesn’t keep her mouth shut, you might not hear from her again. Perhaps I will tell my Special Ops Team since trust is needed for a team to work, but that won’t be for another few months or even a year.

You asked me if I needed anything and currently, I would like a bit more tea, if possible. I’m limiting myself to three cups a day since my tea leaves are dwindling. I’m struggling without you and your tea, but I know you can’t ship yourself here through the carrier system. I was right about the cuddling… I miss it and it does make it difficult to try and sleep, knowing a much more comfortable option exists. I won’t go on more because I don’t miss your teasing. Hopefully, I will see you in the next month's time, but right now, it seems the Royal Government is about to monitor us. Going back and forth to you might harm you, and I won’t risk that. It’s helped, this feeling of missing you, by the cadets used for refugee security. It’s been reported almost everyday that a light-brown haired woman, no older than 30 with light green eyes leans out a window about a café with a red lettered sign and stares at the Scouts coming in during the sunrise. I knew right away it was you. I hope you’re getting enough sleep and not being irresponsible with the amount of hours you work on the refugee’s bread. 

I must now go to another officer’s meeting in Erwin’s office to discuss something boring. I’d rather be helping you knead dough for a thousand loaves then sit in his office one more time. 

My questions for you: Has the Garrison brought those brats you said to sponsor over yet? Have you decided to open back up the café? Has the girl gotten her apprenticeship? Have you told Jonas that if he touches you one more time while I’m going, I will break his fingers? You said you might cut your hair, is this true? Have you yet? 

Till your next letter and next delivery of twenty grams of peppermint tea, 

Captain Levi

Chapter Eleven →

Chapter Masterlist

xx Everyone say thank you to MAPPA for Levi and Armin’s faces <3

[marjansmarwani]

just say you're hurt, we'll face the worst

Carlos & Owen || Tarlos || 2.9k || ao3

This is a birthday fic for actual ray of sunshine Paige - @sunshinestrand 

You’re a lovely human and you deserve the world, but I hope you’ll take this instead. I hope your day is as wonderful as you are my dear 💕

Additional shoutout and thanks to both @officerrxyes and @terramous who helped me fix this when I was stuck for quite a while. I would be lost (and still staring at this fic) without you both!

One last note: if this seems familiar that’s because it was inspired by one of the parts from my tarlos week fic that’s when I knew - I just took one of the vignettes, expanded it, and told it from Carlos’s perspective. 

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

In hindsight, maybe he should have called first. 

Standing on the front step was probably the wrong time for that realization but here he was: on the front step of the Stand house facing the confused expression of his boyfriend’s father. 

“Carlos,” Owen said in surprise as he opened the door, “TK’s not here right now.”

“I know, he had a shift.”

Owen raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t push. They stood in silence for a few more moments before Carlos elaborated, “I’m here for you, actually.” 

This got a look of surprise from the older man, “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just...wanted to know if you wanted a ride to chemo today?” 

It came out rushed and Carlos couldn’t blame Owen for his bewildered look. He rushed on with his explanation: “I know TK has been taking you and he had to work today but I’m off so I figured I would take you—if you wanted.” 

“Did TK ask you to do this? Because that’s very sweet of you both, but you don’t need to waste your day off on me, I’ll be fine on my own. Which is exactly what I told my son but he seems to have selective hearing on the matter.”

Carlos shook his head, “No, he didn’t ask me. But I could tell he was worried about it so I figured it would make him feel better if he knew you hadn’t been there alone.” 

Owen studied him for a few moments before shrugging, “I’m not opposed to the company, as long as you are sure about wasting your limited free time with an old man.” 

Carlos held up his keys, “Great, I’ll drive.” 

---------

The ride there was silent. Carlos went to open his mouth a few times, to try and start some sort of conversation, but each time his mind went blank. He was fairly certain Owen was having a similar problem, if the glances he kept shooting Carlos were any indication. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt so nervous about this — it wasn’t as if he hadn’t spent time with the Captain before. Nights spent with TK had taught him that both he and Owen were early risers, and sharing a cup of coffee in the morning hours had become a routine for them. Those were largely silent moments though; each man taking the time to savor the coffee and the quiet of the start of the day. In all honesty, Carlos wasn’t sure what to talk to the other man about. As far as he knew they only had one common interest: TK. 

Of course, there was a lot to talk about when it came to TK Strand. Carlos could easily rave about him for hours. But while talking about how easily he could drown himself in TK’s eyes, never once even thinking about coming up for air with Michelle was one thing, doing it with TK’s father was something else entirely. 

Just the thought of TK’s eyes and the things they made him want to do to him pulled him in and before he knew it he was interrupted from his daydreaming by a voice from his passenger seat: “So…” Owen started, “how are things with TK?”

Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly, prying himself back to reality and turning his face so Owen couldn’t see the blush creeping up his cheek. The man did not need to know the thoughts he had just been having about his son. He kept his tone decidedly nonchalant as he answered with a simple. “Good, things are going good.”

And they were back to square one.

---------

Thankfully, the drive to the treatment center was not a long one. 

They parked and Carlos hovered anxiously off to the side as Owen got signed in and followed his lead to the treatment room. He took in the surroundings with interest—he had never seen the inside of a chemo treatment center (thankfully). He couldn’t say it looked anything like what he had pictured. But then again, he wasn’t sure exactly what it was he had expected. 

He watched quietly as Owen was set up with the IV and smiled at the nurse as she passed by. Then it was just the two of them and they looked at each other with uncertainty.

“So,” Owen began. 

“So.” Carlos agreed. He glanced around the room awkwardly before his gaze settled on the IV in Owen’s arm. 

“Does it hurt?” he couldn’t help but ask. 

Owen shrugged, “it doesn’t feel great, but it’s really after that you feel it.” 

Carlos nodded but Owen kept talking, “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I really don’t know all that much about you, Carlos.” 

“Oh,” Carlos responded, surprised, “are you sure that’s what you want to talk about?” 

Owen shrugged, “Sure. I’d like to know more about the person my son is so smitten with besides,” he paused to lift up the arm with the IV in it, “what else do we have to do right now?” 

“What do you want to know?” Carlos asked, unable to keep all the anxiety out of his voice. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Here, or pretty close to here. We lived just outside the city.” 

“Are your parents still around?” 

“My mom is. My dad passed when I was a teenager.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Carlos shrugged, “it’s not that I don’t miss him, but it’s been a while. It’s become normal, something I don’t really think about all that much anymore.” 

He paused as he realized the territory they were treading into. Given their current location, it seemed a little bit too much like tempting fate for Carlos’s liking. 

Thankfully Owen either agreed or sensed his hesitation because he selected a new topic, “Siblings?”

“Two sisters. They drive me nuts, but I love them.” 

Owen chuckled, “older or younger?” 

Carlos grimaced, “older, and they never let me forget I’m the youngest.” 

Owen laughed outright at this, but his laughter abruptly turned into a groan. Carlos sat up, looking at him anxiously, “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

Owen shook his head, “No, there’s just some...unwanted company headed this way.” 

Carlos furrowed his brow as Owen plastered on a smile and raised a hand in greeting. He turned in his seat to see an older man waving back at him, a broad smile on his face. 

Carlos gave Owen a skeptical look, “him?” 

Owen nodded, “him. He may look harmless, but trust me, you will be praying for the awkward silence once he gets going.” 

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“It can.”

Carlos was not convinced and Owen shook his head, “Fine, don’t believe me but when it gets weird I will throw you under the bus as a distraction without hesitation.” 

“I was raised here,” Carlos deadpanned, “they don’t call it southern charm for nothing. I think I can handle some small talk.” 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” 

Any response Carlos could have given was interrupted by Owen plastering the smile back on and nodding to the older man who was now approaching them, “Wayne, how’s it going?” 

“Still breathing so I guess I can’t complain. How about you? How are things in the fire fighting business.” 

“Busy, as usual.” 

Wayne, apparently, chuckled but his expression turned curious as he noticed Carlos. 

“And who’s this?” he asked as he settled down into the chair beside Owen’s. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” 

“Coach, this is my future son-in-law, Carlos Reyes.” 

Carlos could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks and it took considerable effort to keep his voice even as he objected, “Owen we’re not...we haven’t even…” 

But the older man waved off his protests, “Please son, don’t even bother. It’s only a matter of time. It doesn’t take an expert to figure out that you’ll be there sooner or later and I do happen to be an expert in my son.”

Carlos was saved from the trouble of trying to form an answer to that by their neighbor clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“Well isn’t that something,” he noted mildly. “What do you do Carlos, are you a firefighter like the Strand boys?” 

“No sir,” Carlos responded politely, “I’m an officer with the Austin Police department.” 

Wayne turned to Owen, eyebrows raised, “A cop and a firefighter? I thought y’all didn’t get along?” 

Owen shrugged, “We try not to hold it against him.” 

The older man chuckled as he leaned back in his seat, “It’s good to see you with some more company here, regardless. Did you know this damn fool thought he could do this all on his own?” 

The last part was directed at Carlos, who looked over at Owen with a raised eyebrow but Wayne barreled on, “he thought he could keep it all hidden, didn’t want to ‘worry anybody’. Complete horse shit, if you ask me.” 

“We didn’t,” Carlos thought he heard Owen mutter under his breath but the coach carried on undaunted.

“I told him that was crazy talk, of course. Not even Superman could do this on his own, and you ain’t him, my friend.” 

“That hurts, really.” 

Wayne scoffed at him and looked about ready to go for round two when Carlos interrupted, “You’re right, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have a choice anymore — he’s not alone. He has a whole team behind him. Whether he wants it or not,” he added as an afterthought. 

Both of the men are looking at him now, with differing expressions. Eventually, Wayne looked back over at Owen, “I like him.”

Owen was studying Carlos, who met his look and refused to drop his gaze, “He has his moments, I guess.”

----------

Things passed roughly in the same for the remainder of the appointment. There was a steady stream of conversation between the three men and as much as Owen may claim to be annoyed by the older man, Carlos had a sneaking suspicion that it was mostly a front. As they were wrapping up and saying their goodbyes, Owen insisted that he would take Carlos to lunch. But by the time they reached the camaro, the spring had decidedly left Owen’s step and he sunk into the passenger seat in a heap, face pale and drawn. 

Carlos frowned at him as he climbed into his own seat, “Are you feeling okay?” 

There was silence for a moment and Carlos could see him considering — trying to determine how little of the truth he could get away with, he assumed — before he sighed and shook his head. 

“I think that took a lot out of me. I’m just feeling kind of worn,” he winced as he looked over at Carlos, “rain check on lunch?” 

“Of course,” Carlos assured him without hesitation. Owen gave him a thin smile as he turned on the car and pulled out of the parking lot and back towards the Strand house. 

They rode in companionable silence for a few blocks until Owen spoke: “What did you mean back there, when you were saying I wouldn’t be alone?” 

“I was saying that you have a family here in Austin, and that family is not going to let you go through this alone. We won’t let you.” 

“We?” 

Carlos swallowed nervously, but his voice was firm when he responded, “We. That family expands outside the firehouse and your crew.” 

“And includes you?” 

They arrived at a stop sign and Carlos took the opportunity to meet Owen’s gaze. It wasn’t accusatory or smug. It was simply curious, and maybe a bit hopeful. 

“Yes,” Carlos confirmed, “I’ll be here when you need me. You’re the most important person in TK’s life and whatever is important to him is important to me. I will be here.” 

There was silence again as Carlos pulled through the intersection and they continued on their way. When Owen spoke again his voice was thick with emotion, “I don’t think I am the most important person in his life. Not anymore.” Carlos looked at him sharply, but Owen just smiled; “I think you have that title now, and I couldn’t be happier about it.”

Carlos turned his attention back to the road, heat rising up in his cheeks. Owen chuckled from beside him, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I just—I just want you to know how happy I am that you make him happy. How happy I am that you two found each other.” 

“Yeah,” Carlos responded softly, “me too.” 

--------

Owen made it into the house on his own, though Carlos stayed close to his side, just in case. As soon as they entered he seemed to deflate. He looked sadly at the kitchen and sighed. 

“I thought I would at least make lunch for us since going out didn’t happen but…” 

Carlos shook his head and gently turned Owen towards the hallway containing his bedroom, “Don’t worry about it, I can scrounge something up if I get hungry. Just go lie down and rest for a bit, I’ll hang out until TK gets home in case you need anything. Then maybe the three of us can try dinner later, if you’re feeling up to it.” 

“You don’t need to hang out here, you’ve already spent your entire afternoon with me.” 

“My mind’s made up, you’re not going to change it. Now go, before you fall over.”

“Are you sure you’re not too good to be true?” 

Carlos rolled his eyes and Owen chuckled before turning to head down the hall. He paused at the threshold of the hallway, turning back again, “Carlos?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thanks, for everything.”

Carlos smiled, “Don’t mention it, I’m happy to help. Besides, I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon.”

Owen shook his head at him in exasperation, but his smile betrayed him. With a wave he disappeared down the hall and Carlos waited until he heard his bedroom door close before grabbing a glass of water and settling on the couch to wait. A glance at the clock told him that TK should be home soon so he grabbed a magazine that was sitting on the coffee table to flip through idly, killing time and trying to keep his mind from racing. 

It’s not that he’s worried about TK’s reaction exactly, but it did feel like he crossed a line today. Things in his relationship with Owen had decidedly shifted. While that wasn’t a bad thing, Carlos still felt weird about it happening without TK’s knowledge. They always made an effort to communicate clearly; to avoid miscommunications, to ensure that they were always on the same page. 

Any worries he had were quickly banished from his mind by the sight of TK stepping through the front door. He paused on the threshold, eyes widening as he noticed Carlos on the couch. 

“Carlos?” he asked as he set down his keys, “what are you doing here? I thought we weren’t meeting until later?” 

Carlos set the magazine he had been pretending to read on the couch, a bright smile spreading across his face at the sight of TK. “We were,” he confirmed, “but I wasn’t here to see you. Not that I don’t want to see you,” he added hastily, “hi - how was work?”  

TK rolled his eyes but his smile betrayed his amusement as he crossed to the couch, leaning over the back to give him a kiss: “Nice save. Work was fine, have you seen my dad?”

Carlos nodded, the smile on his face from seeing TK and getting to kiss him fading with the shift in topic, “he’s resting, the chemo session took a lot out of him today.”

TK nodded solemnly. He turned in the direction of the hallway likely with the intention of checking on Owen but paused, turning back to face Carlos with a curious expression.

“Wait,” he said slowly, “why would you come to see my dad today? You knew he had an appointment…” he trailed off and Carlos smiled sheepishly. 

“I knew how worried you were about him going alone and I had the afternoon off, so I went. He was surprised, but I think he appreciated the company.”

TK was giving him a strange look so he stopped and frowned, his mind slipping into overdrive, “Was that not okay? He didn’t seem to mind…” 

“No,” TK said quickly, “no, it’s fine. It’s more than fine actually, I just...you spent your afternoon off sitting with my dad at his chemo appointment?”  

Carlos shrugged, “I like your dad. Besides, it was important to you so it’s important to me.” 

He meant every word of it. 

There was silence then as Carlos looked at TK curiously, not sure what to expect. TK for his part was staring at Carlos as if seeing him in a new light. Carlos was just about to ask what was wrong when TK leaned down again, placing a deep, lingering kiss on his lips. Carlos leaned into it, savoring the feeling on TK’s lips on his own. When they pulled apart, TK’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. 

“Thank you, Carlos,” he said, voice low and sincere. 

Carlos smiled at him, reaching across the back of the couch to grab his hand. He intertwined it with his own, holding TK’s gaze all the while. 

“I’d do anything for you,” he said simply. 

The smile he got in return filled his soul and in that moment, Carlos came to a realization. He was hopelessly in love with TK Strand and there was no going back. 

Even as he thought it, he knew one more thing without a doubt: he didn’t want to. TK was it for him, and he could be happy loving him for the rest of his life.  

[read on ao3] 

[madlilsongbird]

Watching The Amazing Spidernan movies so that I’m all caught up before No Way Home. Will add my thoughts as I have them. Note I am not some big Spider-Man fan nor have I read the comics so if my thoughts sound kinda stupid they probably are.

First movie:

That’s a good trick with the broom. Making a mental note as we speak.

Actually seeing Peter say goodbye to his parents is horrible and I would like to never experience it again

SALLY FIELD IS AUNT MAY?! Why does this one have the good cast? (not good as in better but good as in more well known)

The sexual tension in “good morning flash…good morning Peter” (this is a joke I’m not shipping him with his bully)

Jesus roid rage much?

Shut your blinds! I don’t know who would be looking in your window at this exact moment but close them anyway!

First careful, you never know who is watching what you search (when did I become this person)

Second…curt connors is ableist.

Poor Rodrigo Guevara

Oh internalised ableism. And that is the only comment I will make going forward because my disabilities do not include limb difference and I dont want to overstep.

Stop following the man, you are not subtle…wait wtf how’d he do that?!

This is where he gets his powers right?

Okay but when would 5 men make that much of a fuss over a woman that only 1 of them seems to know?

Same. (This is in reference to smashing the alarm clock)

Oh my god is it really necessary to show all the different kinds of spider bites.

Actually just going back to the internalised ableism thing…he is allowed to feel whatever type of way about his own disability that is his right. But insinuating that all disabled people are weak and wanting to breed out the weakness is eugenics and just kinda gross. THIS is the final comment I will make on the matter.

No but seriously he is way more aggressive than regular teen boy aggressive so either he’s on something or he’s overcompensating for something

The way he looks at him doe (again all jokes am not shipping flash and Peter)

Why is this so awkward? And not like teens navigating a crush awkward just genuinely awkward. I feel no chemistry between them.

I like the song, it’s an interesting choice for this scene but I like it.

Stop does uncle Ben die now? Like I know uncle Ben dies at some point but I was really kinda hoping he just wouldn’t in this iteration. I was going for a ninth doctor moment “just this once everybody lives”

MOTHERFUCKER

God Sally is incredible

Don’t show me moments of Flash being human I might accidentally start shipping them for real and that simply can’t happen.

Oooh he’s a fashion designer

I just really enjoy how he takes the piss out of his victims? Arrests?

Is Gwen aware that the school nurse can’t cure everything? Both legally and just like generally doesn’t have the knowledge to cure everything. She suggests going to the nurse a lot.

This family gives me bad vibes

This is a long movie…it’s not even half way through

Well that’s one way to tell her

NOT GEORGE FOYET!

I think with what I remember of SpiderTobey and what I know of SpiderTom, Andrews Spider-Man is definitely better with the people he’s rescuing. Smoother, good bedside manner.

His sons name is Jack. Why does that make me angry?

So he’s just not gonna rescue the other people hanging off the bridge?

It’s almost poetic that the son of the man tried to stop him the first time will be the one to stop him now

Now how is he getting enough power in the sewer

No means no Peter

Does she die in this one or the next one? I don’t imagine her dying will help captain stacey see him as a good guy

Stan 🥺

This movie is exhausting and I don’t know if I mean that in a good way or a bad way.

MoThEr HuBbArD aRe YoU sErIoUs

He managed to get three whole words out and you didn’t think to ease up on the trigger a little to hear what those words might be?

She’s very clever and I will be sad to see her go

That wasn’t her scream. Or it was but from a different take.

Foyet about to be coming in clutch

I’m going to cry.

He’s so ugly. Some lizards are really cute but lizard + human, kinda gross looking.

Well shit. I didn’t know that happened. I guess what I said about him being upset with Peter about Gwen is irrelevant. Unless it isn’t, like if you believe in the afterlife, imagine how pissed he’s gonna be when Gwen arrives.

He finally got the eggs 🥺

As someone who’s boyfriend at the time didn’t go to her fathers funeral I feel ya Gwen. I mean I don’t care now but at the time it sucked.

Dr Connors was just in a silly goofy mood. He seems to show genuine care for the boy (this is mostly sarcasm).

Second movie

Oh we’re going back to peters dad.

How do they have access to a private jet?

Miss Honey is badass

Ngl I’m actually quite relieved they both died before the plane crashed. Stil devastating though.

Okay so this is first up on the list of potential mystery villains in No Way Home…he looks like a tool.

HeLLo PeDeStRiAnS

He really just let Spider-Man put his hand on his tongue. Sir do you know where his hand has been? Not to mention just in general the feeling of spandex on your tongue. I feel ill.

No respect for the proper care of plutonium.

Please don’t ever say “come to daddy” again 😂

I’m kinda sad Jamie Fox becomes a villain, his character seems kinda sweet so far from the 2 seconds I’ve seen of him

You mean to tell me he missed his girlfriend’s fathers funeral AND her valedictorian speech?!

Stan x2 🥺

Because you can’t lose me you’re going to lose me? 😂

I love her jacket

Why are they still pretending like she doesn’t know?

I may have spoken to soon about Max

See I would be speeding up daddy’s death if he told me he’d passed down a genetic disease and just decided not to tell me.

Friendship.

Okay max is still a little bit nutty but you gotta feel bad for the guy. He must’ve been so scared.

Don’t smile that’s not cute, if he was a regular boy you’d file a restraining order.

Oh I see Spider-Man is gonna fight him which will make him turn and become the “bad guy” whether he will actually be a bad guy is still unknown.

This scene is actually kinda just making me angry (the time square scene)

Cops suck man. Peter was talking him down just fine.

Did nobody teach these people not to touch metal when there’s electricity about.

Interesting that I didn’t pick up any chemistry from them in the first movie weren’t they an actual couple for a while?

Another good song with an interesting placement

I’m sorry did the caller ID not say Mary Parker? How was it Harry on the phone?

Run Gwen!

This version of Harry is kinda creepy I’m sure the actor is swell but the character is terrifying. Original version Harry was swell whereas the actor is…

“Maybe everyone has a part of themselves they hide” gives him the eye

This movies shorter or at least it feels shorter

An excellent show of what happens when you tell a rich daddy’s boy no for the first time.

This makes me very sad. She’s so excited for the possibility of Oxford.

As much as Harry disturbs me, I want him to burn his entire team.

His daddy really did love him!

I think it’s mostly his eyes, his behaviour can be explained by trauma (why I find Harry creepy)

Okay most of his behaviour. The taking joy in killing people that’s just him being nutty and not a trauma response.

This is fucked up. And where is Peter? he is off chasing a girl who has broken up with him twice now.

PLANES NEED THE POWER!

I really like SpiderAndrew, the movies are fine but as a character I thoroughly enjoy him

Sorcerers apprentice who?

Captain Stacy can’t blame him! She’s clearly stubborn as hell and her own free woman

I quite literally stopped breathing (in reference to the almost plane crash)

Is this why they made it Gwen and not MJ so that he could kill her and be an actual bad guy? From my little knowledge of the comics and what I’ve seen from the movies Harry would never hurt MJ so it had to be someone else important to Peter but not super important to him for him to a real bad guy

I like that Harry actually looks like a goblin.

What was the disease he’s supposed to have?

This poor family. I know I said they gave me bad vibes in the first movie but nobody deserves this.

He looks less like a tool with his suit on…but only slightly less

Baby you better get back behind that baracade!

Nobody talk to me I’m very emotional. This child looks very much like a magical mix of all 3 of my brothers put together and seeing him stand there so brave but so scared is doing something to me.

Final thoughts:

So I think SpiderAndrew might be a close second favourite for me. I like the relationships of the original the most, the comedy of the mcu version the most but this one was like a nice in between. Im a little disappointed there won’t be a third not cos I think I would have enjoyed it just cos the original had 3 movies, the mcu version will have at least 3 movies and this one is left out with 2. Don’t think I would have loved Shailene Woodley as MJ though so I dunno. I think the only thing I would have wanted from a third movie is to know who fedora guy is…and for Peter and May to acknowledge that they both know that he is Spider-Man. Apart from that it was fine and I now feel fully prepared for No Way Home.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO “Evidence.”

Still working on the trial arc, and sorry I am late in posting. I had to go to work at seven and am trying to write in between helping guests. 

CREDIT and a THANK YOU to one of my amazing discord community members Eddi, who has been working for the last few months on the audio visual and transcript logs seen here. I did not write them, Eddi wrote them an was kind enough to let me use them in this story. I loved it and thought it brought a lot of authenticity to the story by bringing in an outside voice. 

WARNING: GRAPHIC blood, gore, and bodily mutilation. The Steel eye project development is VERY horrible, so don’t read if that is something that bothers you. 

It was a beautiful day.

The sky was a bright eggshell blue stratified with only the occasional cirrus cloud highlighting the sky with a touch of distant white. The sun was bright though the temperature was moderate only in the mid eighties.

Swimmers could be seen as distant pinpoints of light and froth on the surface of lake Geneva. Voices echoed up from the city coerced mostly by the purring of hover-car engines.

Towering white buildings rose high into the sky adding height instead of width to a city that had not grown outside its own borders for the past thousand years other than to go up.

Itw as a more environmentally efficient way to build, and left the countryside untouched by the scars of infrastructure and humanity.

Adam stared out the window for a long moment wishing for the peaceful embrace of the skies and the roaring of a jet engine. A soft whimper at his leg, and he looked down to see Waffles sitting at his heel, her head tilted back to look up at him. WHen he didn’t immediately respond to her she whined again and scooted closer, her paws making soft clicking sounds on the wood flooring below.

Finally he reached down and scratched her behind the ears.

She could sense his agitation, and it was clear that she didn’t much like it.

He couldn’t blame her.

He didn’t like it either. He sighed and turned his head away from the do and he window, back to the mirror in front of which he now stood. He didn’t see himself.

The man in the mirror was tall, straight backed with sharply trimmed and styled hair, jaw squared and raised. Both eyes were green though one expanded and contracted like the appriture of a camera. The expression on the man’s face was stern and unyielding.

He looked…. Like his father.

He had never seen much of a resemblance between them, but now he could certainly see it.

It didn’t help that the stars on his uniform seemed to add an extra ten years to his age.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his captain’s cap down snuggly onto his head and whistled low for his dog.

She fell into a perfect heel at his side, and he clipped the leash onto her colla.

Her black service vest was strapped on tight with a pair of doggie saddlebags on either side carrying water bottles. Waffles always liked having a job to do, and a little extra work would help to keep her relaxed during the trial rather than antsy.

She was going to have to stay very still for a very long time for the next few days.

“Ready girl.”

Her tail thumped against the floor at his voice.

“At least that makes one of us.”

He transferred her elash to his left end, though he didn’t technically need it, and led her out of the bedroom and into the large living room. It was a lot of hotel room for just one man. He would have been fine enough with a double queen personally, but he supposed if the UNSC was paying there was no reason to argue otherwise.

It felt strange, going to a hotel on the UNSC’s Dime to testify against the UNSC in one of the biggest trials of the century.

His stomach churned.

Waffles nosed his hand.

Dr Krill floated down from his examination of the chandelier, “I admire human artistry, but pragmatism is still my preferred way of living.” he motioned around the room, “A bit opulent.”

Adam nodded his agreement, “You can say that again. I haven’t slept on a bed that big in my life.” In all honesty, he was trying to keep his mind off of what was to come. He didn’t really care about the bed and certainly didn’t know if he had ever slept in a bed that large.

He sort of doubted it, he was in the UNSC after all.

A knock came on the door and he turned reaching for the handle and pulling it open. The driver from yesterday was waiting for him, his suit pristine. He bowed slightly, “The car is waiting for you, sir.”

He nodded, and motioned the other man to lead the way.

The man nodded and thanked him, stepping down the hall and leading them down into the lobby. They got a lot of looks as they made their way down, most likely because of krill, though his uniform might have caught some attention.

He was led out towards the car and slid into the back seat, suddenly surprised to find that he wasn’t alone.

“Admiral Kelly!”

“Good morning, Adam.”

“What are you doing here.”

“I am here to witness the trial. UNSC representatives thought it would be best if some of the newer brass came to oversee proceedings.”

He quickly looked out the window, suddenly remembering which side of the conflict this was on.

A hand rested on his arm, “I’m not here to make you feel bad about your decision, Admiral. You’re doing what needs to be done.”

He sighed and nodded, “I… thank you ma’am.”

“You sure this is something you are ready for.”

He paused and then shook his head, “No… I’m not ready, and I never will be.” She went to open her mouth but he stopped her, “But I’m the only one we have, so I will do what it takes.”

The car went silent as it slowly accelerated into the early morning traffic.

It was going to be a very long day.

Admiral Kelly turned to look at Krill speaking with him quietly while Adam looked out the window.

He wasn’t in the mood for talking right now though he knew how odd that was.

His stomach continued to churn as they drove through the streets heading towards the outskirts of the city where the Geneva court had been built just over 200 years ago.

The last buildings on the outskirts of town  went by and their first view of the court appeared in the car window. It was made in the classic greco-roman style with large white pillars and sloped rooftop and carvings on the top that depicted all the deities of justice ever conceived by historial religion, all cast and depicted in marble.

The thoroughfare up to the building was long and wide with a decorative reflecting pool at the center and a set of daunting steps leading up to the ornate front doors.

The grounds were meticulously kept with hedges shrub and flowering bushes, with what must have been miles and miles of water features and fountains off to the side.

It was a beautiful location, and it seemed that visitors found it a nice spot to rest while they enjoyed touring the sites.

He didn’t see much in the beauty today.

This was the UN supreme court, and the history of Geneva made this place hallowed in ways that made the court case for today all the more poignant.

The car pulled to a stop before the doors and a few gloved attendants stepped forward sharply dressed and opened the doors with almost militaristic precision as Admiral Vir and Admiral Kelly stepped out.

Waffles followed at his heels

He knew as soon as he stepped onto the marble steps that he wanted to leave, an the only thing that kept him there was the memory of those faces…. All the people counting on him back at the house, all the people who had never been given a chance to recover like he had.

He took a deep breath and ford himself up the steps and towards the front doos where a group of people were already congregating.

There were a few reporters there, without cameras, waiting to attend in the audience and record the proceedings for their news stories and daytime television. A few of them snapped discrete photos of him as he passed and was led through the wide double doors into the expansive inner hallway with a beautifully muraled ceiling and a line of decorative plants down the side.

Voices echoed inside the building, rising up around him to bounce off the marble.

The voices themselves were indistinct and difficult to understand as he made his way further into the room.

Men in suits lined the walls.

He eyed them critically wondering if any of them happened to be the defence.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he quickly turned to eye another attendant, who had evidently been trying to get his attention, “Right this way sir.”

He nodded and was led through the halls and into a nearby antichamber.

A wand was passed over his body.

“Please hold out your arm , sir.”

He did as ordered and watched as his forearm implant was temporarily deactivated. 

“The room is completely radio proof, sir. No signals go in or out. If you must make a call, I urge you to take it during the court recess.”

“Understood.”

“Please step inside and sit on the second row on the right side behind the prosecution.

He did as ordered, and stepped into another wide curving room.

It was much bigger than he would have thought, two stories high with amphitheater seats, and a massive curving desk at the front where nine Geneva court judges would be seated on their entrance.

There was no jury.

The Geneva court judges would be the jury for trial at this time.

Law practices had changed a lot since world war III but there was still some semblance of the old ways that still lingered on.

He took his seat, waffles grumbling softly as he slid onto the ground beside him.

Two people in suits followed him inside one in a dark blue suit and brown shoes, the other in pinstriped balck.

The one in blue was a woman, dressed sharply, her hair pulled back into a bun so tight you could have strummed out a tune on the hairs. She paused next to Adam and held out a hand, “Admiral Vir, we spoke over the phone.”

“Ms. Trevor.”

She nodded and motioned to the man, “And my partner Mr. Jackson. I trust you understand your purpose here today?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Jackson lifted his head, “Our case here is solid, admiral. This case isn’t about who is going to be punished for what happened, but about how long they will be punished, not to mention it is likely to set up some new legislation for the ethical creation and use of military hardware. Once we are done, something like this is unlikely to ever happen again.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but he nodded and let them take their seats in the desk before him.

Waffles whimpered and prodded at his hands with her nose.

He stroked a hand over her big pointed ears.

The courtroom filled up within the next hour, and, Looking across the room, he saw a line of men and women sitting on the second row of the defence. Something about them put him on edge.

He had a feeling they were the scientists.

They were the ones who had developed the steel eye armor.

“All rise! For the honorable Geneva court judges!”

The entire room took to their feet as the nine judges filed out of a back chamber and stepped onto the floor. All of them wore traditional black robes with white collars as had been tradition for nearly thousand of years. They took their seats with a mass shuffling.

“Please be seated.”

The room shuffled back into place.

The head judge,at the center of the table leaned forward.

“On this day June 24, 4024 we open the Geneva Court case of The People VS UNSC Biomechanics Division. the court will begin by hearing opening statements from the council.”

Council for the prosecution stood, shuffling her papers once before stepping up to the lectern.

“Honorable judges and members of the court, today we are here to present evidence against a faction of the UNSC scientific division for gross ethical violations, torture, and pruposeful endangerment of human life. Evidence suggests over 29 killed, over 21 critically injured, maimed, or permanently crippled, and over 61 with lasting mental trauma. This is not counting over 50 Steel eye soldiers coerced without prior knowledge, into participation in the program, 30 of which are now deceased 15 of which have lasting mental trauma, and five that, while functional, still feel the effects today. Today we will be presenting, written documents, video recordings, and audio files from prior testing as well as first hand witnesses of both the testing and the war as well as expert witness from the scientist who read and compiled the files before trial. What was done to these men and women constitute as war crimes and their victims deserve compensation and closure for what was done to them.”

She stepped back from the podium and nodded.

The defence stood and made their way to the podium in turn, “Your honors, and members of the court, while it is true that some unfortunate incidents happened during testing and development of the steel eye project, there is ample evidence to prove that none of these men or women were coerced against their will into participation. All subjects were volunteer and duly informed before proceedings began. Furthermore, scientific ethics had not advanced far enough at the time to cover weather or not what they were doing was an ethical violation. The Defence is not asking for complete vindication for the accused, but the sum of what happens is surely less than war crimes.” 

They took their seat.

Adam wasn’t a lawyer, but he knew which opening statement he liked more. Now maybe he was biased, but certainly he felt that one presented greater amounts of evidence than the other. Of course it was up to the prosecution to show evidence that would convince the judges, beyond a reasonable doubt, that these men and women were guilty.

He listened to some more speaking, half falling asleep and assuming maybe this would be as bad as he thought it would when one of the prosecution stepped back up to the podium.

“The prosecution presents time stamped dated and logged evidence to the court for consideration. The first testing log we wish to present is from the eighteenth of October 4016 and overseen by Dr. Tato Nkosi written as log number 23.” 

Experimental Log #023:

So far we have not experimented with a human subject, All the sample tests and simulations indicate that there should be no interference with normal function nor create any feedback loops that could induce seizures. This is the first human testing that we will be doing. We have noticed that the animal testing resulted in significant irritation and irrational behavour from the subjects, We however suspect this was because they were unawares of the reason for the implantations.

The subject is unconscious for the process of implantation to prevent movement. 

-recording break-

The subject reacted violently to the implant, removing it in a highly violent manner while screaming and trying to injure any nearby scientists. We expected some level of resistance, but this indicates far more sensitivity than expected. Further testing will be required.

“The council for the prosecution wishes to present the audio/visual log.” A light flickers on as a video clip begins reeling.

Audiovisual Log Transcript:

The subject wakes suddenly, seeming to be woken by extreme pain. Screaming almost instantly and scrabbling at implant on their hand and wrist. Subject seems to be attempting to remove the implant. One of the scientists attempts to calm the subject only to be beaten by the subject who continues screaming. The scientist retreats from the subject just as the subject finally removes the test implant by ripping it from the subjects skin, tearing with it the subjects local nervous system along with large sections of the subjects musculature and ligaments. Seeming relieved at the lack of contact with the implant, the subject sinks to its knees. The subject is losing significant amount of blood, though we suspect the subject is unaware of this as large sections of the nervous system is still attached to the implant. The subject appears to be in shock as it observes its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject has resumed screaming and is now trying to get the scientists attention to fix its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject is sedated and arm treated. The recording ends here. 

Adam throws a hand up over his face feeling bile rise into his mouth at the image seared into his brain. Muscle and ligament dangling uselessly against a steel eye prototype. He felt a bit lightheaded but takes a deep breath in and out to calm his breathing. All around the room there are gasps of shock and disgust. A few people stand to leave the room unable to witness any more.”

The council steps forward, “This was the first log in a recorded series of proceeding logs with similar effects. We know in experimentation that accidents happen all the time, and we might have considered forgiveness if the experimentation had stopped here. Clearly implementation on human test subjects was not ready, as evidenced by the animal’s discomfort. Perhaps if they had stopped here, some measure of understanding might have been allowed. But they continued past this point with full knowledge that this sort of catastrophic event could happen. This test subject will never regain full use of his hand. Instead of stopping the experiment like hey should, the scientists determined that the use of painkillers was in order to make the subject operational. For this the prosecution calls expert witness Dr. Alexander Gladstone to the witness stand.”

On the bench to his side, a man stands slicking back his salt and pepper hair as he moves to sit in the witness stand and is sworn in.

“Dr. Gladstone, tell us a little of your credentials.”

“Of course, I received my PHD in Biomechanical interface and Engineering as well as an additional PHD in Mechanised robotics. I have worked as the head scientist for the UNSC testing division for nearly five years now after my predecessor quit. I helped to re-engineer this project under Iron eye as a step forward from the Steel eye project in a more controlled and ethical environment. I am also the scientists who reviewed these logs and compiled them for analysis today.”

“Thank you Dr. Now, may I ask why these scientists would have chosen to implement a drug dosage?”

“To understand why they had to do this, you must also understand the steel eye project itself. Steel eye was designed to enhance the strength, speed and durability of the wearer. We already have exo suits designed for use in factory and industrial settings, however the main issue we run into in a combat setting is that the machine responds too slow. The nodes detect electrical impulses from the muscles and then have to fire following that meaning the subject has already begun moving almost seconds in advance of the machine. Steel eye was created to integrate the machine directly into the body to intercept nerve impulses before the muscles even fire, thus making the wearer faster, and the augment making them stronger. To do this you have to make a direct interface with the nervous system. They first implemented small microfivers which would wrap themselves around the nerves in question to detect electrical signals. These were designed to cluster primarily along the spine but have additional nodes in the major muscle groups. However, direct stimulation of a nerve or nerve cluster sends signals to the brai nthat are interpreted as…. Unbelievable agony, which is likely the agitation that they were seeing in the animal test subjects. However, with a high enough drug dosage, you can mitigate these effects, or distract the brain enough to keep the wearer functional for some time.”

He sat back in his seat.

“And in iron eye, how did you get around this problem?”

“Subdermal implants that do not require direct contact with the nerve endings themselves.”

“And does Iron eye cause any significant damage to the wearer?”

“No sir, the only danger is an infection of the implants, but that is with almost any implanted medical devise.”

“The subjects have no pain.”

“A general soreness that goes away within two to three days.”

“So in my understanding it is clear that there were alternatives to their original course of action. They could have pulled back and tried to implement a way to mitigate the pain rather than mask it with drug dosages?”

“Certainly.”

“But that isn’t what they did.”

“No.”

“The prosecution presents Transcript 27 to the court for viewing.” 

Experimental log #27:

We have begun testing various drugs to suppress the pain, this test is with acetaminophen, commonly referred to as Codeine. 

As per usual the subject was implanted while unconscious and atop this it was given a high dose of codeine prior to it awaking. 

-recording break-

It appears that while the subject was capable of withstanding the pain from the implant for a longer period of time than our previous subjects However the subject clearly seemed to suffer increasing mental instability as the sensations returned, culminating in the subject violently trying to destroy the implant. Learning from prior experiments and in an attempt to reduce harm to the scientists, the subject was left alone while it was in this state and no attempt was made to aid the subject.

Adam turned his head away unable to stomach what was coming next. His hands were sweating terribly. He felt cold and weak. He had seen horrible things in war and in his time, but watching this… .watching steel eye. It was just too much.

His mouth had gone dry, and his skin was hot as if he had a fever.

The dog nosed his hand but he barely acknowledged her.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The transcript begins once the Codeine begins to wear off. 

The subject begins by itching at the area around the implant, the reaction is far less violent than the prior subjects. After several minutes of ever more irritated scratching and aggressive tugging at the implant and plaintive noises the subject began to violently bash the implant against the wall. Growing ever more violent with the abuse of the implant. This continues till the test implant is mangled and ruined with the subject pulling the mangled chunks of metal off their skin, this however seems not to alleviate the subjects pain and irritation. This is likely due to the destruction of the implant not removing the interfacing needles The subject continued to scratch and pull at its skin, the plaintive noises slowly becoming screams of pain. This action continued without interruption from the scientists till the subject had torn most of the skin of its arm and taken chunks out of its musculature, the subject finally passed out from pain or blood loss after several minutes of self mutilation. 

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all 

[purplerose244]

Sweet Aftermath

Hi @forthegloryofdragons! I’m your Secret Santa for the @toa-secret-santa event! 😊 At this point it probably looks more like a New Year present, but Merry Christmas anyway and I hope you spent nice festivities!

Here we go with some Jlaire and our favorite punk wizard! ❤❤

Summary: Peace is momentary in their lives but when they get it, they enjoy it as much as they can. Dessert is always welcomed.

Also on the AO3

“Ouch!”

“Jim!” In the blink of an eye Claire was at his side, holding his hand before he could even process the idea of having a look himself. “You dummy, cut the strawberries, not your finger!” Granted that there wasn’t even any traces onto the actual cutting board – it was one drop at max, his girlfriend could be such a mama sometimes –, maybe it would had reached him some kind of prideful chef wound at being scolded for something this basilar.

It didn’t. All Jim could feel at the moment was the slightest pinch at the top of his finger, where the littlest red bubble was forming. It hurt. In a completely ignorable, absolutely meaningless way. But it hurt. It hadn’t hurt this little in a while now.

He couldn’t help smiling a little, even while Claire was already opening the cupboard to get the med kit. He had forgotten this type of common, after being the Trollhunter had become his everyday.

It was nice. And destabilizing. And a little freaky.

Then again, what wasn’t in his life?

While the little med kit was brought onto the counter of the kitchen and the cutting noises interrupted, the cheerful chatters coming from the living room brought his mind back. The party had been completely random, it had started with his mom wanting to know everything about what happened since they had last seen each other – well, she said that after the both of them managed to talk, with the messes of tears they had become with the both of them human again –, and it was continuing with plenty of people and food around.

Food gently cooked by the best chef of the Lakes’ house… not much of a competition really. But hearing his mom from the other room, chatting and gasping and laughing again, was enough to forget the bowl of popcorn on the table that she still somehow managed to mess up.

Jim breathed in, and then breathed out. Everything felt so new, yet exactly the same.

“Skin’s fragile. I forgot.”

“Well put it on a memo, it’s pretty important if you ask me. A mental memo…” The witch stopped midway, as she was pulling the plastic off the band aid. “I wonder if there’s a way to make that? A magical note stuck into your brain so you don’t forget it? I should ask Teach.” At last, the little medication was applied, At least none of the little red fruits got dirty. Yet Claire still wasn’t letting go of his hand, and when Jim looked up, there were those big brown eyes in front of which he could do absolutely nothing. “I’m serious, okay? Don’t get hurt, or at least try not to get hurt. I really think you had enough for a while.” She probably wanted to sound ironic.

It came out sad. Of course it did. And a lie as an assurance would had been pointless, the former Trollhunter would had made every single choice of his life all over again, to ensure the safety of those he loved. But maybe out of egoism, he would had not dragged them all in like this, knowing how much they were going to suffer for his sake. He wanted his friends near, yet not nearby. Did it make sense? Who knew? Maybe it didn’t have to.

Claire held onto both of his hands, looking up at him, lips curved in a little hopeful smile. And that put an end on any thought. It didn’t matter after all. As a human, as a half-troll, as a full troll, the sight right before his eyes had not changed. And he didn’t want it to change.

Jim sighed softly, nodding with a smile.

“I’ll do my best.” Claire sighed softly.

“Please do.” She leaned and kissed his cheek, and oh, magically there was absolutely no more pain into his entire body. A witch indeed, eheh. “What do you need the strawberries for?”

“Decoration mostly, but there’s so much chocolate in this that you need something fruity to make it less strong.” Right on cue the timer went off. He quickly stopped the noise and hurried to the fridge, taking out the cream that seemed perfectly chilled and ready to use. “Also should I say, strawberries and chocolate? Mucho romantico.” He shot a wink towards his girlfriend, who made that fond eyeroll from whenever he attempted to speak Spanish.

“Whatever, charmer. Get it over with, I’ve been smelling amazing stuff all evening and I’m really tempted to paralyze you with a spell and have it all myself.” Well if that wasn’t one of the sweetest compliments for his cuisine he had ever received. “How can I help?”

“Get me the sponge cake, it’s near the window.” Jim gave the cream a further whip to make sure it was airy and homogenous, before pulling out a spoon from the drawer – reminding himself last minute that he couldn’t and probably shouldn’t munch it anymore. “Alright, now for the tester…” He could had taken it himself of course, his sense of taste was back to human-like. Yet it was still hard to accept it, like his mind wasn’t fully into the all magical transformation that brought him back. He just needed a bit more of time, maybe. “Mrs. Nunez? If you could be so kind?”

“Oh well, if I really have to…” Claire smirked, putting the baking tray in front of her boyfriend with the sponge cake all rested and ready for the use. Then she leaned forward, taking the spoon into her mouth. She licked her lip. “Mm, oh yeah.”

“So it’s good?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “What? Let me brag a little, I’m good!”

“What if I still prefer guacamole over this?”

“Claire, you make amazing guacamole, but you also make a major bowl of it with, like, three tortillas. That kind of love is a little hard to match, even for my chef skills.” He got an elbow, because clearly some people couldn’t handle the harsh truth. “Just tell me if I should add something or mix it some more.” If it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t going into the cake.

She knew that. She knew it, and she grinned widely, putting a hand over his cheek with a very evident intention into her eyes. With the sudden realization Jim had to claw onto the bowl with both hands to prevent any catastrophes like letting it drop accidentally, because kissing Claire was that mind-blowing – and it took him quite a bit to make this cream, thank you very much. A chocolate kiss that got him such jelly knees he was considering just letting himself go with the unconsciousness, it would had been the sweetest knockout of all of his Trollhunter life. This girl had gotten so much more confident since they first started to hang out. She was as gentle as a lady, and as vigorous as a warrior.

His Claire. His amazing, beautiful Claire.

She pulled away first, perfectly in control of the situation, smiling softly at him. The aftermath was possibly even better, knowing that this was real and it happened and it was going to happen again. Somehow he still could hardly believe his luck.

Claire bit her lip, staring with those big impossible eyes.

“Too sweet, maybe?” Jim shook his head with a grin.

“Nope, absolutely perfect.” Did that come out corny? Smoothness wasn’t exactly a skill of his, hopefully he didn’t ruin- and Claire was kissing him again, never mind, he loved life.

“Okay mates, quick update, we’re out of snacks in the other room and since I lost rock paper scissors I got sent here also to sneak on the dessert, and if you’re wondering how I lost let me remind you that Binky got four aaaaaarrrrm…” He loved life a little less with their good old – apparently very old – master wizard coming into the kitchen uninvited. That sheepish little grin was kinda funny though. “So, you mess with the timeline once, and you acquire the magical ability of having a terrible timing. Noted.”

Jim pouted. Claire laughed. Jim laughed. That was just how it was, also his girlfriend suddenly had that malicious look into her eyes that told him he wasn’t going to dislike the next following minutes – and he knew she had that look before she became a shadowmancer so… destiny?

“You’re actually right on cue, these dirty dishes are dying to meet you.”

“Uh… how badly are they dying?” And now the witch was glaring, the wizard immediately raised his hands for surrender. “Can’t blame one for trying.”

“Try and ruin another moment between me and my boyfriend, you’d wish I was only blaming you. You got out with little.” That was probably true and that was probably a given, hence why a second later Douxie was over the sink, pouring down the water and reaching for the soap. Claire gave him a firm nod. “Alright, what do we got?” She turned to the counter, gathering a few snacks onto another tray. “Okay, all kinds of chips, cold popcorn from the microwave Barbara made oww, socks, so many socks, a few burritos Krel’s friend brought…” Given the discovery that aliens were real, having an extraterrestrial as a taco seller so responsible for the burrito that had gotten Gatto that nasty stomachache somehow even made sense. “This should do for a while. Be right back.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and went to the living room.

Again, human’s skin was sensible. Jim hadn’t realized it made a difference before, he had been sturdy, strong as a half-troll. And so hardly soft and easy to please. It was still a little complicated listing off what was good and what was bad of his current situation. But one thing for sure, he loved how Claire’s kisses were sweeter than ever.

A snort. Apparently he had been staring at the door for a while, and Douxie was holding back his laughter with little success. So the former Trollhunter grinned back, giving him a shoulder while putting down the cream onto the squared sponge cake.

“Shut up and do the dishes.”

“Roger that.” The wizard stopped the water as the sink was full, getting to work. A minute of silence was filled solely by the tinkling of dishes and the dripping of water. A nice moment of normality. It had been a while after all. “You know, I gotta say.” Douxie wasn’t looking, yet there was definitely fondness into his eyes. “Spending 900 years adventuring and protecting the world, I’ve seen a lot of things. But a witch learning how to control dark magic in order to save her human-half-full-troll-hunter boyfriend? That one I’ve been missing.” He was fast at cleaning, swift and careful. He must had done it quite a lot at the restaurant he used to work in.

Jim sighed, nodding softly, his eyes lingering on how nicely the chocolate smelled and look. He carefully pushed the remaining onto one side, smoothing the surface.

“I’m so lucky to have her.”

“She’s also lucky to have you. You’re pretty great, and brave. To the point where it gets scary. And worrying. A lot.” Douxie laughed a little awkwardly, clearing his voice. “Not that I can talk, really.” Right, the two of them got so close to their demises for the sake of others.

They were similar. Very similar. Jim couldn’t help smiling.

“We really need to stop trying to die.” The wizard cracked a real laugh.

“Got that right.” Another moment of peace followed, and to this mindless noise Jim was starting to get used to again. “What are you making anyway?”

“Bouche de Noel.” Wow, exactly the same frown as Claire, was it a wizard thing? The confused judging eyebrow? “Yes, you don’t have to tell me, it’s a Christmas dessert. Yes, you don’t have to tell me, it’s disgustingly anachronistic. And no, you really don’t have to tell me, because I’m not trying to pull a Christmas on July thing. You got a British accent, not an Australian one, I wouldn’t even have a stretch to work on here.” Another little laugh. “I’ve been postponed it since forever not knowing if I had the bakery skills, but now that I got functioning tastebuds back I’m all in for it.”

With the cream down, he finally went over the cake, rolling it carefully to form the base of his dessert. It had chilled perfectly and had maintained the form, it looked just like the one in the picture where he got the recipe from. The thrill of making something with his own hands. Another absolutely pointless fun of just a human. It felt great.

Douxie gave it a peak, whistling.

“That looks and smells possibly even better than the mince pies from Camelot. For what’s worth I’m very glad we’re getting Christmas today!”

“Right, because you never know what might… uhm…” Jim swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. From the wizard’s widened eyes, it looked like he couldn’t take that back even if he wanted to. “… today feels so nice. My friends are all here, my mom is here, my girlfriend is here. It hasn’t happened in a while, and I guess I realized how rare this is. We’re not even at the end of summer and we got three different apocalypses, so I thought of… not having too many regrets?” Now that it was coming out it felt very stupid. And insecure. Which wasn’t exactly weird coming from him, but at this point? A fight more a fight less? What was the difference?

He didn’t want to know what it was. He got too close already.

The master wizard breathed in and out, extremely deeply, the washing work momentarily forgotten. He picked a towel from the counter, slowly passed it through his fingers, then let it down. Only to bring one hand onto the former Trollhunter’s shoulder.

“You’ll make a fruitcake, at the real Christmas. A Panettone, or a strawberry cake maybe?” He was smiling, with that renovated determination that had gotten him ever since he came back from beyond the grave. “So you better invite me, and all the others. We’ll have another party just like this one, all together. Every single one of us.” That sounded like a promise. And this guy, this wizard was always ready to give everything for his promises.

So Jim nodded. It was barely a confirmation that everything was going to be okay. But the effort, that alone, was worth at least hoping for. They were all in this together.

Luckily for the guitarist there wasn’t much to clean up besides the bowl and various plates – for now at least, he was half sure Claire was taking this long just to pile up other stuff –, but he stayed to watch the trunk taking form. Two cuts for the shape. Ganache all over. Without worries.

Without problems. He was here. Right here, safe and alive… oh.

“I didn’t thank you, huh.”

Douxie blinked, taken back.

“… there were, like, five dishes. Doesn’t really compare with my shift at Benoi-”

“For saving my life.” Another sequence of batted eyelashes, and it was almost too easy imagining what were going to be his next words. Today Jim felt completely in charge of the situation, finally. “And I’m not talking about the whole turning back into a human thing, neither about the Arcane Order, even though that’s also worth mentioning.” Having Nari around was mildly unusual for that, but she was adorable enough to forget about it. “Claire told me about you guys at Camelot. About trying to find a way back to our time, saving everyone, saving me… the dungeon break was your idea. I wouldn’t have escaped if it wasn’t for that.”

Douxie seemed to have problems grasping this, or simply accept it. He turned his eyes back to the sink, almost as he wished there was still something to make himself busy with.

“It was nothing.” This time it was Jim who snorted.

“You messed up a timeline for one single half-troll, that’s a bit of something. I mean… I doubt Merlin would’ve done it.” That was probably uncalled for. But despite knowing how much those two wizards were close, it didn’t erase what that old man had done to him in the past.

There was no hatred into those amber eyes though. Just thoughtfulness.

“… I knew it was risky. But I also knew that too much depended on you.” The wizard managed a sad smile. “If that wasn’t a mistake, because Merlin didn’t believe in them, then I guess I really wanted to believe in the unexpected possibility that you were going to create… I didn’t want to leave a single friend behind.” He scratched the back of his head, shrugging a little. “Also my wallet couldn’t bare losing a tipper like you.” Sarcasm had to be some kind of special power of those who had been playing with life for too long.

Maybe that was also what made them so similar. Maybe that was also why, in some way or another, they had managed to survive. Jim smiled, bringing an arm onto his shoulders.

“Thank you, Douxie.” The wizard looked at him in bewilderment. And then, slowly, he lightened up, clenching his hold onto his shoulder. Giving him the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there hadn’t been many satisfactions for him lately. And this one came right on time.

“I did fix something after all.” He smiled too. “You’re very welcome, my friend.”

“So NotEnrique bet and won all the socks at Monopoli and I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming, that brother of mine will be the death of- aww, look at you.” Claire smiled at them, putting down the empty tray. “Having a little moment?” When he had taken that little detour for school at the beginning of this adventure, he definitely didn’t expect that one day he was going to be found by his girlfriend preparing a dessert for a bunch of mythical creatures and humans, while sharing a bro gesture with Merlin’s apprentice.

Did he ever say that his life was weird? Because boy oh boy it was.

Douxie took all his time to gave him one last pat and then turned to the girl, this time him being the one to showcase the little menacing grin – he never did dark magic before right… right?

“Indeed we were, guess who ruined it and will join me at cleaning dishes?”

“… well played Casperan. And that’s the only reason why I’m agreeing.” Claire huffed humorously, getting the dishes she just brought in onto the sink. “How’s the cake?”

“Almost done, just need to cover it and decorate it.”

“Good, because Toby got to his praising of your culinary skills, with plenty of more details now that he got all confident about making that one movie. So I’m pretty sure there will be a riot unless they get cake.” She breathed out, picking up a sponge only to look intensely at how her boyfriend was putting down the chocolate bark of the Bouche. It used to bring him such crazy butterflies in his stomach he could had passed out just by the knowledge alone. Now he couldn’t think of a life without those eyes on him. “We really need to do this more often. Just… this.” No silence felt more eloquent than the one that followed. It barely needed a nod from the two of them, while the dessert was finally put altogether with the covering and a smoothing for the surface.

Jim picked up a fork and started passing it over the covering, creating traces that made the trunk look somehow real. He moved the tool steadily, enjoying this, enjoying every moment of this peaceful time of them. Then he turned to the strawberries, all arranged nicely onto the cutting board, and he smiled a little.

He picked up a knife and one of the fruits.

“Let’s see…” He engraved it, creating little petals getting smaller towards the center, and placed it onto the cake. “Roses for my love.” Claire giggled, lancing her arms around his neck from behind. Then Jim picked up another strawberry, cutting it in thin pieces, then placing them onto the surface to form a note with a long tail, the only notion he had about music – at least not including that one piano kinda-serenate to Senor Uhl for not repeating the year. “And a note for my friend.” He completed with a few leaves of mint all over. “I think we’re ready now.”

Today Douxie looked so easy to please. Or maybe he really did spend a long time without being recognized for much. Because his amber eyes were shining, and it looked like he was holding back a much wider smile.

“Were you always this mushy, or was it Claire that has changed you?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, don’t ever want to find out.” Jim picked up the dish with the Bouche on it. “This is all I want.” The witch tightened her grasp – never mind, butterflies still lived.

She showed her tongue to the wizard.

“Jealous that I got the sweetest guy ever?”

“Nah, I have a punk rock soul, I’m immune to pure cheesy lovey-dovey situations.” Douxie grinned, looking fondly at them. “But if I can say it…” He lingered onto them, perhaps a little troubled. And somehow it was clear, he was pondering about the future, it was a thing that he couldn’t help doing apparently. Despite that, his eyes were sincere, and this determination still as solid as before. “Yeah, the both of you have great taste in people.”

They were going to have more parties like this. For sure.

With Claire right next to him, Douxie opening the door, and the number of smiling familiar faces waiting for him, Jim managed to push away the thought of tomorrow, with everything that was most likely still going to come for them. Here, now, they were happy and alive. It was enough.

So he snickered, showing up the cake to his cheering family.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!”

[litwitlady]

Send Me Home (1/?)

Read on AO3.

‘The Braves are down to their last at bat, Jeff. And it’s Michael Guerin in the on-deck circle. What’s Ramon’s strategy here? Does he try to jam him up inside or keep firing fastballs and hope Guerin can’t catch up?’

It’s September in Atlanta and the Braves are playing the Marlins. Every game counts as both teams vy for a spot in October baseball. Michael Guerin is a lead candidate for MVP, and he’s always a threat in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and the bases loaded. The sellout crowd roars as his walk-up music begins to play.

I was born to the desert And to the desert I’ll return Sun-soaked and leathered Tattered and tethered Send me home, send me home, send me home

‘Ramon’s got that curveball, Chip. I’m not sure Guerin’s ever met a fastball he couldn’t hit. Especially in the bottom of the ninth. So, I think Ramon starts with the curveball even if that’s exactly what Guerin’s expecting.’

Michael steps into the batter’s box and takes a couple of quick practice swings, eyes wide and watching Ramon’s every move. He squares his hips and lowers his hands on the bat just a touch. It’s an adjustment he’s been working on for the past month or so with great success. Ramon lets loose his first pitch. As expected, it’s a nasty curveball and a pitch Michael has struck out on more than once during his twelve year career. But this time he’s prepared and anticipates perfectly where the bottom of the curve will land. He shoots a laser to shallow right field, and it drops in for a walk-off single. The dugout empties and everyone tackles him as he crosses home plate, one game closer to October.

--------

Later that night, Michael sits on the tailgate of his Chevy, beer in hand and staring up at the stars like so many nights before. Several of the guys had harassed him about going out to celebrate, but he’s not in the mood. He’s never in the mood these days. The winning still feels good and the possibility of the MVP is a dream. But for a long time now, he’s felt like there’s something missing in his life. Something essential, something elusive, something just out of his reach.

The truth is that he’s lonely. It’s a truth he can admit to himself when he’s alone underneath the cosmos watching the stars blink down at him against the wide expanse of space.

There have been relationships along the way. Women he’s dated earnestly. Once upon a time, maybe even a couple he could have loved. When he was younger, there had also been a few men. But none recently. The deeply rooted homophobia of baseball to blame. Mostly anyway. It’s strange now - everyone knows he’s bisexual, a simple Google search is all it takes. But he’s fairly certain baseball collectively decided to ignore his sexuality altogether after he got called up to the majors all those years ago.

He wants to believe he’s not afraid to be seen with men. He tells himself it’s just simpler this way, less complicated. Fewer awkward questions and the focus remaining on his athletic abilities rather than his sex life. Besides, only two major league players have ever come out and they both only did so after they’d retired. He supposes maybe he counts as the third. It’s not the stuff of fairytales, and Michael had learned that lesson during his brief stint in Double-A ball.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

Alex Manes’ new album drifts through the truck’s windows. His low, throaty voice practically purring into Michael’s ears. He’s been a big fan of Alex and his music for several years now. They’re both from New Mexico and the way he sings about the desert rings true enough to Michael that listening to one of his songs sends him right back home. Despite their many issues, he misses his brother and sister so badly sometimes he can barely breathe. Alex’s music reminds him of all the things and all the people he’s left behind - for better or worse. A couple of years ago, he’d had the opportunity to see Alex perform live but he’d turned it down. He still can’t explain why.

The night stretches out before him. Beer and music lulling him into a peaceful sleep until a bright light flashes in his face and startles him awake. He sits up and raises his hands peacefully. ‘Hey, Ernie.’

‘Oh, Mr. Guerin. I didn’t recognize you. What are you still doing here? It’s past midnight.’ He clicks the flashlight off and clips it back onto his belt. ‘Congrats on the walk-off!’

Michael shrugs. ‘Thanks. Didn’t want to go home just yet. Like watching the stars at night. But I haven’t seen you in a while. The grandkids still running circles around you?’

‘You know it! Caleb just turned five and is a holy terror. Michelle is eight going on eighteen. I can barely get a word in edgewise between the two of them.’ His eyes shine even in the darkness, crinkling at the edges.

Michael’s heart aches at Ernie’s easy, simple joy, but he manages a genuine smile thanks to the night’s shadows softening the edges of his jaw. ‘That sounds nice.’ He hops off his tailgate. ‘I’ll get out of your hair. Got an early game anyway. Need to get some sleep.’

‘Well, now, don’t let me chase you off. I don’t mind the company. It gets a little spooky at night. You can always come knock on my door if you ever need anything.’ Ernie opens the Chevy’s door for Michael and shuts it behind him. ‘All these other guys with their flashy sports cars and you in this old rust bucket. You’re a weird one, Mr. Guerin. But I like that about you.’

Michael runs his hands around the cracked steering wheel. ‘Most days this truck is about the closest thing to home I’ve got. There’s still desert dirt in the bed and an engine I rebuilt myself. What the fuck would I do with a Ferrari?’

They both laugh and Michael waves and honks his horn as he pulls out of the player’s lot. The streets are mostly empty, cars keeping to the well-lit interstate at night. He decides to stay on surface roads and take the long way home, radio softly playing old country songs. His thoughts drift to tomorrow’s game and the rookie pitcher the Marlins are starting. His own rookie year had been tough, and he makes a mental note to speak to the kid at some point during the game, ask him how he’s doing and if he’s being treated well.

The streetlights along Peachtree illuminate his path through Brookhaven. He crosses into Atlanta city limits and enters Buckhead just as ‘Lay Me Down’ by Loretta Lynn and Willie Nelson starts to play through his speakers. And all too soon, he turns down his street and opens the cedar gate at the end of his driveway, parking his truck and sitting in the darkness until the song comes to an end.

Climbing out of his truck, he unlocks the front door with his telekinesis, slipping inside quietly and deactivating his alarm system. He’d bought the house in foreclosure, spending most of his money on remodeling the mid-century ranch. It’s not extravagant, but it’s the most expensive thing he owns. He’d even let Isobel fly out to decorate the place within a very strict budget, and he’d had to admit she’d done a great job - one side of his front door Atlanta, the other side New Mexico.

But even so, it has never felt like home.

The first few nights he’d spent in the house had been rough. It was too quiet and too soft and too much. More than once he’d grabbed his ancient, worn sleeping bag and crawled into the bed of his truck. Sleeping hard on the uncomfortable. ribbed metal but beneath the stars he loved so much. The morning dew waking him with the sun each morning.

These days he manages to sleep in bed at night, but only because he’d installed two skylights overhead so that the stars would always be his. And only his. He rarely brings anyone home anymore, preferring their house to his. But when he does, he takes them to a guest bedroom. None of them ever seem to mind how empty the space is or how devoid of personality. Four blank walls and a lone bed filling the room. Why would they? It’s not Michael the foster kid from the desert they’re sleeping with. It’s Michael Guerin the multi-millionaire first baseman with the single-season home run record and the aw-shucks, good boy smile.

Tonight he doesn’t bother turning on any lights. He just pads through the kitchen to grab an apple and a bottle of water, undresses and climbs into bed. He takes a large bite of the granny smith and pulls out his phone, calling Isobel.

‘Congrats on the walk-off!’ He can hear another game in the background. Isobel had never watched a baseball game in her life - including any of his - until the day he’d gotten drafted right out of high school. But now she watches all of them. Or as many of them as possible. Her scouting reports are better than anything stamped official and readily available in the team clubhouse.

‘Thanks. Didn’t really see the ball that well tonight, though. Is Max there?’ It’s stupid to ask when he already knows the answer.

‘Out with Liz. They’ve been inseparable ever since she moved back to Roswell. It’s gross and I miss you.’ The sound on her tv goes silent and he knows she’s settling in for a long conversation. ‘Tell me about tomorrow. Any surprises?’

‘No. New kid on the mound just called up. Got a mean slider. Torres has some pain in his wrist so he’ll be benched.’ Michael finishes his apple in two large bites and guzzles his water, listening to Isobel pound away at her keyboard already deep in research mode. ‘Might get me moved up to the number two slot.’

They spend fifteen minutes strategizing. It’s what they do most nights. Isobel critiquing the numbers based on intuition and her own database of knowledge concerning the human psyche, while he runs statistical analyses and probabilities in his head faster than humanly possible. Michael suggests more than once that she’d make a great scout and that maybe when he retires they can go into business together. He’s told her this a million times, but she only laughs him off and reminds him that she already has a job.

‘A worthless job that doesn’t pay you what you deserve.’ He reaches for the tv remote on his nightstand but can’t find it. Not that it matters. He switches the television on with his mind and nods his head through the channels, stopping on an old western and muting the volume.

‘Philanthropy is not worthless, Michael!’ She sighs loudly to punctuate her exasperation. ‘And my salary is not the point - the point is helping people. Besides, I have all of Noah’s money and can negotiate more pay any time I choose.’

That he believes. ‘How’d your date go last night?’ Asking Isobel about her date absolutely means she’ll push him to share something just as personal. But it was her first official date with a woman and he genuinely wants to know how it went. No matter the price he’ll pay.

‘Really, really, really well.’ He can hear the grin in her voice and it makes him smile. ‘She’s a cardiologist and very good with her hands. Valenti makes a pretty superb matchmaker. Maybe I’ll ship him your way because you could certainly use the help.’

Michael rolls his eyes and fakes a groan. ‘You can keep Valenti. Don’t you think it’s weird to have your ex setting you up on dates? Do you really think he’s the best judge of character?’

‘Kyle knows me better than most. He was my first relationship after Noah and he put up with a lot. I trust him implicitly with my heart and yours. Plus, I was the one who broke up with him.’

‘My heart is fine, thanks.’ He lies smoothly and knows exactly how she’s going to respond.

‘I can’t stand the thought of you all the way across the country in that foreign place with no one to go home to at night.’

He snorts. ‘It’s called Georgia, Iz. And I’m not home enough for a relationship to work right now.’

‘Half the guys on your team - on any team! - are married. So that’s a pisspoor excuse. You keep pushing everyone away. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Michael. As soon as you start to feel something, the doors slam shut and you become another stereotypical lonewolf cowboy.’ Her voice is loud now, vehement and self-righteous. They’ve reenacted this scene so many times it feels very paint by number at this point. ‘I hardly ever hear a smile in your voice anymore.’

She’s right and she knows it. He used to love dating, meeting new people. First kisses and first fucks. Last kisses and farewell fucks. He lived for those moments and now he hardly ever looks anyone in the eye. ‘We have this conversation at least once a month. And nothing has changed. It’s too hard right now, Iz. I’m too known to ever really be known. Not the way I would want to be. Not in any way that I would trust.’

There’s no use arguing so they move on to easier topics. Max and LIz’s ongoing romance, details of Isobel’s date, Maria’s remodel of the Pony thanks to a very generous anonymous donation. Every word out of her mouth squeezes his heart a little bit tighter until it’s too much and he says goodnight.

Flipping onto his side, he reaches his arm out to the other side of the bed, running his hand over the cold, unwrinkled sheet. His eyes land on the empty pillow no head ever touches and tries to imagine a face looking back at him. A face that might smile suggestively or quietly murmur goodnight. But he’s unable to conjure anything beyond a blank, shapeless outline. It makes him feel pathetic so he yanks the pillow underneath his own head and forces his eyes shut, trying in vain to quiet his mind. Despite his best efforts, sleep takes its sweet time finding him.

The next morning he’s exhausted but gets to the field early. He’d woken up to a cryptic message from Isobel. There’s a surprise waiting for you after the game! Stick around this time, Michael. Don’t make me get on a plane. He’s sure that can’t mean anything good, but he attempts to put it out of his mind for now.

The ballpark is already bustling with activity. Michael heads into the clubhouse to change. He stops and asks Stan, their hitting coach, for some extra work before the rest of the team arrives. He’s worried about how he’s been shifting his wrists recently and wants someone else’s opinion. The adjustments he’d made last night seem to be working, but he’s worried about straining a muscle or tweaking the wrong tendon. Two of his teammates are already on the IL with wrist pain. He doesn’t want to be next, especially with the postseason race and his run at MVP on the line.

Michael finds Danny Marks asleep in one of the clubhouse’s leather chairs. He swats him on the head on the way to his locker, laughing at Danny’s loud yelp. ‘Fuck, man, you’re always asleep. How did you manage to stay awake on the mound long enough to put together two Cy Young seasons?’

‘Talent, Guerin. Talent. You should try it sometime. Maybe then you’ll win MVP.’ Danny yawns and stretches his arms over his head. Michael glares at him. ‘Don’t worry. You’re still the favorite. Our very own diamond darling. No one else is getting their own personal concert any time soon.’

‘What?’ He sits on the chair at his locker, blinking at Danny in confusion. ‘Personal concert?’ Isobel’s strange text message flashes through his head again while he inwardly groans.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Danny grins and crosses his ankles on the table in front of him, brashly enjoying the way Michael squirms. ‘Alex Manes is traveling down from Nashville just for you - baseball’s most beloved first baseman.’ He throws a toy football at Michael’s head, chuckling when it bounces off his curls. ‘He’s not bad looking, you know.’

‘Stop.’ Danny is Michael’s best friend on the team and the only one he feels comfortable enough to have this conversation with. ‘Whose idea was this? Did Isobel do something? Or was this you?’

Michael doesn’t want this. Not at all. And he can’t exactly explain why. Music is personal to him - profoundly personal. Always has been since he was nothing but an unloved kid trapped in various violent foster homes. It was music that had kept him warm at night and music that had loved him best. The only escape available to him during most of his darkest hours.

Over the years, there have been many artists he’s considered favorites. Most of them old country crooners or folk song heroes. Much like Alex Manes. But with Alex, it’s something more. Something he has a hard time vocalizing. They are both from New Mexico. Both spent a chunk of their formative years in Roswell. Michael has read or watched multiple interviews with Alex where he’s alluded heavily to an abusive father. His lyrics certainly do the same. Lots of kids grow up that way - Michael knows he’s not alone in that particular fate - but the way Alex puts that pain to music settles something inside his chest that has never been settled before.

So the thought of meeting Alex worries Michael. They say don’t meet your heroes for a reason. In his head, Alex represents a sense of safety, a sense of home. What happens when they meet and that’s taken from him? Because maybe Alex is a liar. Or maybe he’s a dick. Either possibility is very real. He’s also a vet, and Michael hates, hates, hates the military. And he doesn’t want to hate Alex. Doesn’t want to lose his music. Cannot emotionally afford to lose his music if he’s being honest.

‘Isobel apparently knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. I just didn’t try and stop her. Or Lena.’ Danny’s wife is Isobel’s favorite human. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to Michael since meeting Danny. The two of them have done nothing but make his life one unasked for surprise after another. ‘Besides, even if you hate it, the team could really use some fun before heading into the postseason. Some good old-fashioned team bonding, my friend. And this time, you don’t get to run away. The guys need to see their captain smile every once in a while.’

Michael sighs and changes into his warmups. Danny’s phone rings and he grins one last time at Michael before disappearing for some privacy. Michael decides to push Alex Manes to the back of his mind and concentrate on the game ahead of him. Stan is waiting, anyway. So he’ll focus on his wrists for now and worry about everything else later. The one thing he does do, however, is pull out his phone and send Isobel a very pointed text.

You should have gotten my permission first.

Isobel’s text response is nothing but the angel halo emoji. Michael wishes his telekinesis was strong enough to travel across state lines because he’d like to throw her phone into the wall. Since that option is not available to him, he sends Max a text instead.

Your sister is a menace.

He pockets his phone, not bothering to wait on an answer. Max tends to be too busy these days. Not that that’s anything new really. Unless your name is Liz Ortecho or Isobel Evans, he doesn’t have much time for you.

The morning stretches by as gametime approaches. Batting practice goes well and Michael works with Stan on keeping his wrists from turning too much when he swings. His teammates have all found out about the concert by the time the first pitch is thrown and none of them will let him forget it. Each time his walk-up music begins to play, Danny leads a small group of particularly bad vocalists in a sing-a-long. All of them belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Michael tries to keep the stupid grin off his face and almost suceeds.

He won’t admit it, but he actually begins to get excited. Doesn’t even mind when Max only ends up responding with a snarky text.

Try living less than five miles from her.

He’d give anything to live five miles from Isobel. Michael loves his teammates. He really does. Atlanta has one of the best team dynamics in baseball. Maybe the best. They support each other, love one another, and when they say family, they mean it. Team dinners and family outings are normal even during the off season. Michael doesn’t avoid spending time with them because he dislikes anyone - although there have been various tiffs in the past but nothing long lasting. He avoids them because he loves them enough to let his mouth loosen too much, all his secrets threatening to tumble out with no regard for his safety or the safety of his siblings.

He knows this because it has happened on more than one occasion. Years ago during his rookie years when living hard and drinker harder were his nightly norm. On any given night you’d find him at the bar, four fingers deep into a bottle of bourbon, mouthing off about moving things with his mind. It wasn’t the booze talking; it was his loneliness. The throbbing homesick ache in his chest that only Max and Isobel could smooth away. Once he knew his teammates were shitfaced, he’d let some little comment slip about his abilities. Half of them never paid any attention to the things he said and the other half merely laughed at him.

He’d told Isobel one night about the things he said and she’d yelled at him solidly for an hour. The next day he’d gotten a nasty phone call from Max and has kept his mouth shut ever since that conversation.

Keeping their secret is important. Michael understands that, but the lying exhausts him. He loves Danny and hates that the most important part of himself Danny and Lena can never know. He loves his other teammates, and he doesn’t want to hide this huge part of himself from them forever. The lying has always made him feel unclean - distant and deceptive. Back in Roswell, it had been easier. He hadn’t had many friends and the people closest to him shared the same secret. But now, the people he sees every single day aren’t allowed to know the real him. It breaks his heart in a way he could never have anticipated, making him feel truly alien.

Michael and Isobel had jumped through enormous hoops to keep his DNA secret from team doctors and drug testers. It’s the only reason he’d ever agreed to her mind influence.

A major league baseball player cannot have telekinetic superpowers, alien or not. The cheating accusations would be immediate and relentless - his career over and his name shamed forever. Regardless of the fact that he would never dream of cheating to advance his career. Besides, he’s self-aware enough - or perhaps cocky enough - to understand that his level of talent doesn’t require any telekinetic assistance. Michael Guerin is just that fucking good.

During his last at bat in the eighth inning, Alex Manes’ face flashes on the digital scoreboard high above centerfield advertising the aftergame concert. Michael concentrates on keeping his wrists tight and imagines that Alex is somewhere in the stadium watching him. He swings at the first pitch - a fastball left too high over the plate - and knows he’s gotten every piece of it by the cracking sound his bat makes. He starts a slow run to first base and watches the ball sail over the leftfield wall. With his signature two claps, he rounds first and enjoys the cheering crowd chanting his name. Stepping on the bag at home plate, his eyes glance back up at the scoreboard, but Alex’s face has disappeared. And suddenly his nerves have returned tenfold at the realization that soon he’ll be face to face with a man he has no idea how to talk to - what to say or even if he’ll get a chance to say anything at all.

Despite the cheers and happy butt slaps from his teammates, the pit in Michael’s stomach stretches wide. In the clubhouse, he checks his phone again and one last final message from Isobel lights up his screen.

He wants to meet you first.

[iamnotsensical]

You Should Have Seen That Coming

@innocentbi-stander sent:   “I saw your witcher writing prompt post! If you’re interested, I’m a total sucker for a BAMf jaskier who actually does know how to fight with weapons but his it from geralt, then the truth comes out. Hmmmmm maybe there’s something where he’s also actually part elf or fae? I’m always looking for an excuse for an immortal jaskier 😂Maybe his fighting skills get revealed when they’re being attacked? I love jaskier who can fight with daggers or a short sword.”

I may have gone a little longer on this one than usual, but I really loved the concept! (I hope you enjoy it! <3)

(Edit: I learned how to add a cut. So I did. Whoot!)

X

Geralt should have known. The moment he came into this town. Those looks. Looks that were usually only directed at him. Looks that extended this time even to Jaskier. Who stood closer to Geralt than usual. 

He should have known when the contract extended was easy. Ridiculously so. A single harpy? Jaskier was suspicious. He didn’t trust a town so full of hate and judgement to be willing to employ Geralt for something so seemingly easy to deal with. Though he was biased. His night of playing was rough and he didn't trust shitty patrons with shifty eyes. 

Regardless, Geralt went out, dealt with the problem at hand and then headed back to the tavern beneath the inn where they were staying. To clean up before going to the man who employed him. When Geralt returned, he found Jaskier in the tavern and stopped to let him know the plan. To ask him to start packing. They were interrupted by the barmaid, an angry old woman with a look of disgust. "Your employer is waiting for you. In the town square. Go collect your coin so you can be on your way."

"We are talking.” Jaskier said cooly, “He’s helped your town. You won't even let him stop to clean up and eat-" Jaskier starts. He knew Geralt needed time to let the adrenaline wear off, knew the less than pleasant response to collecting payment while still covered in blood. 

However, Geralt shook his head at Jaskier and regarded the woman carefully. He nodded his understanding and turned to Jaksier, promising that he'll return. Then he is on his way. 

He really should have known when he saw the man, standing in the middle of the town with an odd ring of metal poles slammed into the ground around him. They stand up in a circle, stabbed into the ground like those spears knights push into the earth, and then skewer the heads of the monsters they’ve slain on to. The spears and heads always stand as a warning. 

Geralt really should have known. 

But he was tired and this town made him uncomfortable. He and Jaskier both wanted to leave. So, he walked up to the man and explained in short detail how he dispatched the 'scary flying thing' he had been sent to kill. Even brought its wings back. If it hadn't been so vicious he may have spared it, but somethings were simply incapable of not killing. 

The man's eyes shifted around as Geralt spoke, making it even harder to focus. Geralt huffed and wrapped his arms over his chest. "I did as the contract expected, I'll take my payment-" he started only to stutter and choke as a loud sound resonated in his head. Geralt's hand flew up, pressing against his temple as though that would alleviate some of the pressure from the noise. It only got louder. Geralt tore his eyes from the man to look around and see a group of villagers surrounding them. They stood around the circle, clashing various tools and things against the metal poles in the ground. Metal on metal, an echoing clang that had Geralt falling to one knee. 

The man looked down at Geralt with a sneer. "You're not the first we've gotten rid of.” He spat. Quite literally, and Geralt wanted to scrub the dampness from his skin. These people . . . They, what? Set traps for witchers? “You won't be the last.” The man continued. “You abominations are brought here only by your own greed. In search of money to take from innocent humans. You're disgusting! And so is your friend- I'd be willing to bet that we don't even need the pipes to distract him, without you there I think he'll be taken care of quite easily-"

Geralt growled viciously but the noise of the poles served well in its purpose to incapacitate him. He could do no more than to focus his efforts on fighting the nausea rather than this bigot. 

He was trying to figure out the easiest way to get out of here, with the least amount of death. And then, from seemingly nowhere a voice called out, "You know. Of all the ways I've been called easy that one is the laziest, most hateful, and least true." Geralt looked up to see Jaskier walking into the circle. 

The clanging slowly stopped as the mob seemed to fall into an incredulous silence watching Jaskier. They looked to the man for some sort of instruction. 

Jaskier kept his eyes trained on the man as well, despite the urge to look at and take care of Geralt. "Come on now. Let us be reasonable. I shall take my companion from this town, free of charge despite his work. Call off your goons, and we'll be on our way."

"You,” the man sneered, “Are just as perverted as he is if you defend him over your own kind," the man retorted. 

Jaskier laughed, "You are wrong in more ways than you could possibly know." He said. 

And then many things happened. 

The clanging started again as the mob of angry people decided they’d had enough of Jaskier’s smart commentary, deciding without the man in charge that they wouldn’t stand for such disrespect. 

Geralt shifted on his knee to face Jaskier and tell him to leave, to get out of this town and wait for him somewhere else. Much to his surprise at that exact moment, Jaskier pulled a knife from seemingly nowhere. He flipped it in his hand with a practiced ease and then turned and flicked his wrist. It soared through the air and landed directly in the skull of a man who’d been trying to catch Jaskier off guard. He slowly sank to one knee, sputtering in his last moments.

In fury, a man nearly as large as Geralt charged towards Jaskier, roaring in his anger as his companion fell. Jaskier used the position to lunge forward, step on the man's propped up leg, and use it to jump off of. It provided him the perfect height to plunge another knife into the tall man’s eye. Geralt’s head was still pounding, but he was trying desperately to figure out where the hell these knives were coming from.  

Though the group was predominantly men, a woman full of hate pulled one of the poles from the ground and swung it at Jaskier. Geralt must have made a noise of distress, because Jaskier turned just in time to catch it before it connected with his head. It must have hit his hands hard because he winced. Geralt simply couldn’t sit back and watch this. Despite the noise he tried to stand, “Jaskier-” He started. The bard glanced over and shook his head. He pulled the pole from the woman’s hands and hit her hard in the ribs with it. She doubled over and Jaskier sidestepped over to Geralt. 

“Duck,” He said to Geralt and then shoved Geralt over. Later, Geralt would blame the nausea and disoriented mess for being the reason he was so easily knocked over. In the moment however, he simply found his face in the ground. 

Head swimming, with a mouthful of dirt, Geralt almost missed the feeling of warmth spreading over his back, pushing through the town square with substantial power. Yet, when he lifted his head he saw that many of the people who’d just been making such obnoxious noise were sent flying back and he heard that the noise had stopped. What happened after that he wasn’t sure. He remembered vague flashes of warmth and kind words from Jaskier. He smelled the familiar and soothing scent of Roach’s mane. He knew they were moving . . . and then? Nothing. 

X 

Geralt wasn't sure when he closed his eyes, or for how long, but when he opened them again they were out in the forest. Jaskier had found them a small clearing, set up camp, started a fire, and started their dinner. The bard was sitting with his back mostly to the bedroll that Geralt has been laid out on. He was holding onto some animal, impaled on a stick, roasting it over the fire. 

"Jask-" Geralt started to speak, his voice coming out even more hoarse and gravel like than usual. He shifted to sit up. 

Jaskier turned to Geralt and shook his head, "Hey there, you big brute.” He said fondly, “Don't move alright? You were still swaying when we got here. And you had a terrible ache in your head. Just. Try to relax." Jaskier advised gently. "Try being the operative word, though I know you struggle with things that could bring you comfort." He said, a faint smile on his face. It was less easy than Jaskier’s usual grin, and he made no move to come closer to Geralt. Geralt wasn’t sure why.

Geralt grunted and finished sitting up. "The noise." He muttered. 

"Is what caught you off guard? Yes. I know. You needn’t defend yourself to me. Those awful poles. I saw them. Well. I heard them first, which is why I went off to find you. I figured it would be enough to hurt your ears, I'll admit I was surprised to see that such an ignorant town created such a clever trap. I didn't realize it was common knowledge that sensory overload was your weakness, obviously it was something I knew-" 

"And yet. You won't shut up." Geralt snapped. It wasn't unusual for Geralt to snap like that. He awaited the snarky response of irritation from his companion. 

Instead he got, "Mm, well. Yes. That's a good point." And then . . . Silence. 

Geralt looked over to Jaskier carefully, and slowly the details of the fight came back into his mind. Jaskier with the daggers. Jaskier stabbing a man in the eye. Jaskier somehow throwing back a dozen grown men . . . "What the fuck happened back there? How did you do- . . . All of that? Any of that?" Geralt asked slowly, clearly unsure how to word his questions to get himself the answers he wanted. "What did you do, towards the end- all I felt was heat-" 

Jaskier kept his eyes trained on the fire and nodded slowly. "Energy." He corrected. 

"Hmm?"

"All you felt- it was energy. Not necessarily heat. Not that they are dissimilar. Perhaps it was a gratuitous amendment, I just meant to clarify, but magic that makes heat often burns which is far more destructive than anything I can do- Than anything I want to do-" 

Geralt's mind faltered. He was still trying to wrap his head around seeing Jaskier be proficient in protecting himself against a large group of opponents, with daggers no less. But, "Magic?" Geralt asked, his foggy mind slowly clearing as he started to catch up with the conversation they were having.

". . . Yes." He said slowly. 

"Yes?" 

Jaskier's expression was guarded, careful. "Yes. I used magic. I wasn't really intending to but you got yourself into a rather tricky mess and I wanted to keep you safe so it seemed like the option I had at the time-" 

"Jaskier." Geralt interrupted, he didn’t have the capacity to listen to the rambling right now. "How can you use magic?” He asked directly. “You are . . . Just a bard." 

And if, for a moment, something like hurt broke the careful mask Jaskier had set in place? Well. The moment was brief and Jaskier quickly seemed impassive again. "I am a bard, but not just. I also happen to be- part fae." He said slowly. "Which- I'm aware. Is vague. But other than the slight magic and the never aging thing I don't know many details, what with my mother having to raise me as though the Viscount of Lettenhove was my father rather than whatever mystery man she was with when I was conceived." He said, his tone bitter and frustrated. “Perhaps if I knew more about it all I would have said something sooner, but I don’t know the details and if I happened to be one of the things that you are supposed to kill, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of informing you-”

Geralt listened intently, his eyes searching Jaskier for the way that this revelation should change his appearance. For the tell tale sign that he was different now that Geralt knew the truth. There was none. He was still Jaskier. Jaskier who believed that Geralt could ever hurt him. Geralt deflated slightly. Perhaps he would have to work on convincing Jaskier of his own- significance in Geralt’s life. Then, Geralt's eyes hit Jaskier's hands, still holding the stick their dinner was on. They were red. Raw. Shaking. He reached out, carefully setting the stick and meat off to the side. Gently, he pulled Jaskier's hands into his lap and looked at them. "How did you burn yourself?" Geralt asked. 

"The uh- the poles were iron." Jaskier responded quietly. Iron was a well known repellent for fae-folk of many kinds.

Geralt frowned and gently held Jaskier's wrists. "Can I bandage them for you?" He asked quietly. And despite the tension in the air Jaskier recognized that request for what it was. A silent Thank You.

[heartslogos]

outtakes [11]

Keqing looks up from the empty pizza box she was breaking down when the silence goes on too long. Everyone is looking at Ganyu, who’s staring at a very bland, tasteless, but inoffensive generic canvas painting on Keqing’s wall. The previous apartment owner had left it behind and for the lack of anything better Keqing hasn’t removed it.

“What’s wrong?” Keqing asks. She lost track of the conversation somewhere in between trying to sort out the trash of their pizza delivery — there’s still a whole two boxes of pizza left, not to mention the chicken wings, the giant container of salad that’s still got a good third of its contents left, and the extremely dark looking chocolate cake that came with the meal set. She has no idea where these people put it. Keqing thinks she’s a good eater, but the amount of food some of them are putting away is truly mind boggling.

“One of the new interns at our firm made a mistake today,” Yanfei says, “Nothing too bad. Nothing I couldn’t fix, you know? It was a pretty common mistake. All rookies make it at least once. It’s a learning experience. Anyway this poor kid took it hard — one of those ones. You know, where they gotta do everything perfect the first time around or they’ll be super ashamed like they’ve somehow brought dishonor to the entire ancestral line? So I was trying to comfort them by telling them about some of my mistakes. But like. These kids see me every day and they know I’ve made the occasional mis-step so it doesn’t mean as much. So I told them about this one time that the illustrious chief secretary of the Qixing — “

“It wasn’t me.” Ganyu interrupts. Keqing’s eyes flick to the other woman, who is still staring at the wall. Keqing thinks Ganyu is in shock. “Yanfei. That wasn’t me.”

“Ganyu, you’re only human,” Xingqiu says, putting a consoling hand on her shoulder. “Everyone makes mistakes. And it was truly harmless one. You don’t have to be so — “

Ganyu turns to look at Xingqiu, eyes firm and shoulders squaring. “It wasn’t me.”

“What wasn’t you?” Keqing asks.

“Apparently when Ganyu was still new to the Qixing she took some ambassadors from Fontaine to the wrong building and almost got them arrested for suspicious behavior,” Hu Tao answers, picking out another chicken wing. “Who could blame her? The Qixing buildings are like a spirit maze. Who are you lot trying to keep trapped in there, huh?”

“It. Wasn’t. Me,” Ganyu insists, head slowly turning. “It was Yanfei. Her firm was representing a foreign case and sent her as one of the lead assistants. She took the group from Fontaine to our immigration center instead of our general business building.”

Everyone turns to look at Yanfei.

“In my defense, it was also during the time when the Qixing was doing the whole renovation project of their buildings. I got a little turned around." Yanfei sticks her lower lip out at Ganyu. “Don’t be mad at me. A-yu. What’s the harm? If I told them the story with me as the person in it they wouldn’t care. If the story has you in it then it’s suddenly alright! It makes them feel better that even someone with your track record can make little silly mistakes like that. And the poor little intern reminded me so much of you I thought it would help them relate more. I would have said it about Keqing but she’s been working as Yuheng for so long that it wouldn’t make sense for her to be escorting people from Fontaine around the Qixing buildings.”

Ganyu puts a hand over her eyes, but the tension is already releasing from her shoulders. “Yanfei."

“Alright, alright. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. From now on only the most flattering stories will be told about you, alright? If I ever need to comfort an intern or a junior member I’ll tell them stories about Xingqiu instead. Eat some more. It’s your favorite dressing.” Yanfei immediately goes to put more salad onto Ganyu’s abandoned plate.

“Why would you tell them stories about me?" Xingqiu asks, taking another piece of pizza with white sauce. “I don’t do anything important enough that it would matter.”

“It’s cute how you say that but we all know so much better,” Keqing retorts. “You play yourself down too much. It’s suspicious.”

“I’m wounded.”

“Good. Poor Chongyun can do with you being knocked down a peg or two on occasion."

"Poor didi,” Hu Tao nods in agreement.

Xingqiu turns to Hu tao, “You told him he’s the youngest? I was saving that for a special occasion. I was going to spring it on him when he was least prepared. Maybe use it to distract him from an argument.”

“You’re terrible,” Yanfei says. “He loves you so much.”

Xingqiu preens and Keqing pulls another bottle of tea out of the refrigerator.

“Back to the real reason I called you over,” Keqing says, “Aside from making me order a ridiculous amount of take out.”

“It wasn’t because you missed our wonderful company?” Hu Tao pouts. “Why do we always need a reason to see each other, huh? Life is so short we should see each other just because we can.”

“Do not start trying to sell us end of life plans,” Xingqiu warns, pointing his fork at Hu Tao. “Do not.”

“I don’t need to sell to you; I already got your plans drawn and paid for. I’m just trying to impress upon you in case you remember certain significant others or family members who haven’t gotten their affairs in order. You want to handle this ahead of time before it becomes a pressing need, you know. The last thing anyone wants is to be in the middle of grieving or going through a heavy loss and — “

Keqing presses the cold bottle to the back of Hu Tao’s neck, causing the woman to yelp.

“I called you here because I’m getting rid of some of my old camping gear,” Keqing says, “It’s not too badly used and some of it was pretty expensive. So I thought some of you might like to go through it. I texted Xinyan and she already passed on it. Xiao-ge has most of the stuff I have and he’s…particular about his equipment.”

She pauses. “I would have asked Chongyun but I figure Xingqiu’s got the better eye and if I had both of you over you two would argue about everything. Mostly because you like to be a contrary jerk.”

“I’m hurt. Is that any way to talk to a dear friend?”

“Who’s a dear friend?”

“Xiangling would probably be able to use whatever you’re getting rid of,” Ganyu says.

“Xiangling probably has more gear than I do,” Keqing replies. “And it’s much more…hard core. Xiangling doesn’t joke around about camping and outdoor activities. I think she got approached for her own TV show once. Come on, I have it all in the next room.”

“And what spurred this inventory clean out?” Xingqiu asks, standing up and stretching his arms over his head.

“Your camping equipment list is already so short, please tell me you aren’t turning into a complete survivalist,” Hu Tao says. “Are you just going to go out in the wilderness with a knife and some rope now? What are you trying to prove?”

“My parents bought me new equipment for my birthday,” Keqing replies. “And I feel silly having duplicates. It’s too much.”

“Act like a rich kid for once would you?” Yanfei elbows Keqing lightly. “Oh, hey. I’ve been looking for this kind of fishing pole. Never mind, don’t act rich. I’m nabbing this.”

[ollieofthebeholder]

and some say love is holding on (and some say letting go): a The Magnus Archives fanfic

Also on AO3. Takes place immediately after Episode 159: The Last. Title and song lyrics from Perhaps Love by John Denver, which is going to end up being the lynchpin of an eventual JonMartin playlist.

Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm It exists to bring you comfort, it is there to keep you warm And in those times of trouble when you are most alone The memory of love will bring you home...

~*~*~*~*~*~

The exhaustion hits the second they cross the threshold from the Lonely’s domain to the real world. Jon is shaking from head to toe, worse than the last time he went more than a couple days without a statement, and the confidence and energy with which he brought them out seems to leave him in a rush, like water swirling down a bathtub drain. He could easily sleep for a week.

At his side, Martin’s knees buckle, and he’s trembling so hard it seems like he might actually fly to pieces. Jon tries to support him, but he’s a head shorter and a good deal skinnier than Martin and it would be an effort under the best of circumstances, which these are decidedly not. He intends to guide Martin gently to sit down on the floor, but it ends up being an ungraceful, barely-controlled mutual collapse.

“Let’s just rest here for a minute,” Jon murmurs, trying to catch his breath.

“Do we really have time?” Martin asks, also gasping for air like they had to work a lot harder to get out than they did.

They probably don’t, actually. Trevor and Julia are up there somewhere, cutting a swath through the Institute’s staff, or trying to anyway. The thing that took Sasha’s place is on the loose, too, abandoning all pretense at humanity. Daisy has given herself back over to the Hunt—Jon knew that was what she was going to do without even having to use his abilities—and even if she did it to save them, to save him, she did it knowing she won’t be coming back from it this time. God, if there is an actual God, only knows where Elias—Jonah—has gone or what he’s up to, what he’s plotting now. There may not be a new entity coming into being or a ritual they need to interrupt, but there are still a lot of very dangerous things out there and most of them very much want to kill them. Or at least Jon.

But they’re both exhausted. Jon’s never used his abilities against another avatar before, or such a reluctant subject, and it’s taken a lot out of him. And Martin—God, Martin. Martin stood up to Peter Lukas, to the avatar of the Lonely. He fought his way back from the brink of being claimed. There’s no way he’s not completely worn out. Whatever might be happening on the surface, Martin needs to rest and Jon is going to give him that.

“I think we’ll have to make it,” he says. “The time, I mean. Whatever’s going on...we won’t be of much use like this.”

Martin gives a soft hum, maybe of agreement, maybe just of acknowledgment. They sit there for a few moments, leaning against one of the smooth stone walls, arms still wrapped around each other’s shoulders. There is no sound in that vast, empty room but their harsh and ragged breathing. Jon concentrates on Martin’s heartbeat, close to his ear because of his height and the way they’re sitting. The steady, even thudding comforts him, reminding him that Martin is alive and safe and there. He’s not okay. Neither of them are by a long shot. They haven’t been for a long time, probably since they started working at the Institute. But they’re together and they’re alive, and that goes a pretty long way.

After a bit, Martin says quietly, “The...thing. Not-Sasha. Peter set it loose, Jon.”

“I know,” Jon admits. “It came after us. After me. Trouble is, Trevor and Julia are up there too.”

“The...? I thought they were in America!”

“They were. Followed me here. Finally figured out I’d taken Gerry’s page from that damned book.” Jon sighs heavily. “Daisy fought them off once before, but they came back. They were cutting their way through the Institute. We—Basira and Daisy and I—we were going to try and fight them off, but then the thing that took Sasha’s place came out. Decided Trevor and Julia were a better target than me, I guess? Basira told me to go and I don’t have any real idea what happened after that.”

Martin gives a short laugh that somehow sounds amused, tired, and slightly bitter all at once. “There’s something I never thought I’d hear you say again.”

“Yes, well, I do have to concentrate most of the time to read minds,” Jon says, trying and failing to smile. “And I had something rather more important worrying me.” He pauses, then adds, “What...happened? I know this is the Panopticon. I know Elias is Jonah Magnus body-hopping, and I know Peter Lukas took you into the Lonely, but...what happened?”

“A lot,” Martin says. “Or maybe it just...felt like a lot. I don’t know if I can...” He looks around, then gestures with his free hand off to Jon’s left. “Should be on there.”

Jon turns to look and sees one of those damned tape recorders. Honestly, he should be used to them turning up everywhere these days, and he mostly is, but he’s got to admit he’s surprised to see it here. “Did Jonah bring that?”

“No, I did. Or, well, it came with me.” Martin shrugs. “Didn’t turn it on consciously or anything, so I’ve no idea what’s on there, but I can guess. Tends to turn itself on when something important is going to happen.”

Jon considers the recorder for a minute. It sits innocuously enough, and it doesn’t seem to be running at the moment, so whatever is on its tape is a past recording. It’s just out of reach from his present position, but there is a black nylon strap trailing off one side. He stretches his leg out as far as he can go and kicks ineffectually for a bit before he finally manages to land his heel in the center of the loop. Slowly and carefully, he drags the recorder towards him until it’s close enough that he can reach out and snag it with his free hand.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier just to get up and grab it?” Martin says. “Or wait until you were up to moving that far?”

Jon doesn’t even give the idea of bantering back a second’s thought, nor does he consider putting a gloss on his reasoning. If anyone deserves the immediate, instinctive, and above all honest answer, it’s Martin. “I’d have had to let go of you to do that,” he says as he hits the rewind button. “And I’m honestly afraid if I do, something else will try to take you away again.”

For a moment, there’s no sound in the room but the whir of the tape spooling backwards. Finally, Martin says, “I know, you put a lot of effort into dragging me out of there once already. Shame for that to go to waste.”

A knot forms in Jon’s chest. God, what the hell did Peter Lukas do to Martin? Or...has he always thought like this? “You honestly think I’d have done that for anyone else?”

There’s another beat before Martin answers. “I mean...yes?”

“Martin...”

“You already did it with Daisy—”

Jon is shaking his head before Martin gets all the words out. “That wasn’t the same thing at all.”

“She was trapped in the domain of another...power. You went plunging in, found her, and brought her back out again, alive and well. Seems like the same thing to me.”

“It’s not,” Jon insists, looking up into Martin’s face. “For one thing, the reasoning was completely different. I went to find Daisy because I felt guilty.”

“Guilty,” Martin says flatly.

“I’m the one that brought her into that mess,” Jon says softly. “I’m the one that didn’t prepare properly for what would happen in the Unknowing and got her mixed up in it. And I just...we lost Tim. I lost Tim. I couldn’t bring him home. I could bring Daisy home safe. I went after her because I thought it would help my guilt if I could see her alive, and with Basira again.”

“Did it?”

“Sort of? I still...” The tape pops as it hits the beginning of the reel, but Jon ignores it for the moment. “I still feel guilty about Tim. I think I always will. Not just him getting killed, but...all of it. I couldn’t fix that, and no matter what I do for anyone else, I never can make it up to him. I’m not sure if I could have even if he’d survived. I don’t know if he would have let me. But at least Daisy was out of there, and I knew I’d done what I could for her. And she’s been doing all right, more or less. Or was, until today. Even if she did join the Institute to get away from the nightmares. Basira’s still inclined to beat up on me a bit, but Daisy doesn’t seem like she blames me, which helps.”

Martin sighs and slumps back against the wall. “Think that tape’s ready.”

Jon knows a dodge when he hears one, but he decides not to call Martin out on it just yet. Instead, he presses the play button and lets the tape go.

It is the one Martin had with him, starting with him and Peter Lukas first coming into the tunnels. Jon’s stomach lurches every time Lukas talks, the buttery-smooth words eroding Martin’s self-confidence and serving to isolate him further. It’s no wonder Martin tried to make Jon leave him in the Lonely, if this is how the bastard talked to him every time they interacted. His heart twists violently at Martin’s voice—the way it shifts from nervousness to trepidation to fear to outright panic—and then Elias’s voice comes through and his heart nearly stops dead. He listens to both of them taunting, toying with Martin, both of them for some reason urging him to kill Elias—to kill Jonah...

And then Martin refuses.

Jon’s lips part, but no sound comes out. He stares speechlessly at the tape recorder as Martin’s voice spills out, telling Lukas what he was thinking, why he did what he did, how he figured out that Lukas was lying to him for some reason. He stands up to Peter Lukas, the avatar of the Lonely, to his face, and refuses to kill a man who richly deserves it, a man nobody would blame him for destroying. Jon can picture him, shoulders squared and head held high, a defiant glint in his eye as he stares down not one, but two fears trying to claim him, and remains, solely and unequivocally, Martin.

He’s never been prouder.

His heart stutters again when Martin starts to ask a question and then vanishes. There’s a loud squeal of static, and Jon can almost hear voices in it, but it’s too much effort to try and force knowledge out of a magnetic tape right then, so he leaves it. And then he hears his own voice, piecing together the little bit he was able to glean from the surface of Elias’s—Jonah’s—mind, replaying the conversation leading up to him opening his mind, finding the path to the Lonely, and going off after Martin.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Martin says softly when the tape ends with a final-sounding click.

“What, you wanted me to leave you there?”

“Yes! I mean...I can’t say I’d like being there, but...damn it, Jon, the whole point was to keep you safe,” Martin blurts out. “Weren’t you listening? Did you not listen to a single thing I said? All right, I know I didn’t give you all the information, but I couldn’t, not and risk Peter starting to toy with you. As long as he thought I was really staying away from you, you were safe, from him at least. And I thought with Elias locked up, you’d be safe from him, and I knew—Elias told me you listened to all the tapes, so I knew once the recorders started popping up again you’d hear them eventually. I tried everything I could to keep you safe, and you just—walked into the Lonely like it was nothing!”

“No!” Jon says forcefully, and he grips Martin’s shirt tightly, forcing his attention onto him, forcing him to listen. “It wasn’t nothing, Martin, and you know that. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Ever. I had no idea if I was going to be able to get out again, if we were going to be able to get out again. When I went into that coffin to find Daisy, I left a rib as an anchor by the door, so I’d know where the way out was. I had a plan, as...ill-advised as it was, but I did have one. I didn’t have that when I came after you, and I knew there was a chance this was a one-way trip. But it would have been worth it, do you hear me? I don’t care if I’d been trapped in there forever, because if I hadn’t gone in there, you would have been alone, and I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t, Martin.” He closes his eyes, trying to stop the sudden rush of tears he can feel threatening to spill over. “All this time...I trusted you. I did. I knew you knew what you were doing. I trusted you to have a plan and to be all right. And you did, and I am so very, very proud of you and what you did. But you...I didn’t just need you to know what you were doing. I needed you to be all right. And when I found that tape you left me, and I realized where you’d gone, I...I panicked. A lot. Nobody would help me, and I was so damn desperate I tried to force Helen to take me to the center, take me to you. I was never afraid for myself, Martin. Not throughout any of this. I was afraid for you. I needed you to be safe, and I was so afraid that I’d be too late.” He draws in a deep, shuddering breath. “I thought I was.”

He looks up and sees Martin staring at him, his eyes wide and wet behind his glasses and lips parted slightly. His expression is hard to read—Jon’s leaning towards disbelief, but there might be a little bit of fear there, too. He could probably know if he wanted to, but in the first place, he is very tired and that’s a lot of effort, and in the second place...well. He’s never pried into Martin’s mind, even accidentally, except once to know where he was because he needed to see him so badly. He’s not about to start now—not here, not in the aftermath of what’s probably the most terrifying thing they’ve faced down since Jon took over as Archivist, which is saying rather a lot.

“Martin,” he whispers again, and it’s halfway a prayer and halfway a question.

Martin shakes his head slightly, although it doesn’t seem like it’s in answer to the unspoken question. “Don’t do this, Jon,” he says, his voice breaking. “Don’t...don’t just tell me what I want to hear. I know you know...I know you listen to the tapes. I know you know how I—don’t play with me. Please.”

“I’m not playing, Martin,” Jon says, his heart breaking all over again. “I meant what I said. Just now. In the Lonely. What I’ve been...I should have told you so long ago. I need you, very much. I care about you. I—” His voice hitches. He hasn’t said it to anyone, in so many years—maybe not ever—has he ever said it? Has he ever meant it?

Well, he means it now. With his entire heart, with whatever he has that still passes for a soul, with everything that is within him. All the twisting paths his mind has taken these last two years, since the first time he really looked at Martin as he sat opposite the tape recorder and insisted on giving his statement, coalesce and unfold into a single, beautiful truth. But it sticks in his damned throat, and he can’t seem to manage to actually just say it.

“He was wrong, you know,” Martin says softly. “Elias. Jonah. Whatever. He was wrong.”

“About what?” Jon asks, a little taken aback by the twist of the conversation. Has he misjudged? He was so sure...

“What he said when he caught me burning those statements. My distraction. So Melanie could get those tapes.” Martin blinks hard. “You listened to that tape, right? He said...that’s when he told me you listened to all of them.” Again that short laugh layered with emotion. “Like that was going to change anything I said.”

“I, ah—no, not that one,” Jon confesses. “Not yet. I...Melanie told me your plan worked. I was...more focused on the statements. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to relive that day. I almost did, the other day, after I told you about...how to quit, but I—I just haven’t yet. What did he tell you?”

Martin swallows hard. “He said...he assumed you’d told me to burn the statements while he was gone. Said I’d do anything you told me to. It’s not that. I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

Jon nods. He’s known that for a while now, ever since Martin was “out sick” for two weeks and then came tumbling back into the Archives with the news that Jane Prentiss had been holding him hostage in his own apartment, without his phone. At first he thought, if only to himself, that Martin’s insistence on investigating so deeply was out of some inane need to prove himself, but somewhere around midnight, lying awake in his bed and finding himself wondering if the other man was comfortable and—most importantly—safe in the Archives after all, he came to the sudden realization that it wasn’t that at all. Martin knew, even before Jon did, how badly he needed to know all the details of the statements, and he went looking in the hopes that it would make Jon happy. It hasn’t escaped Jon’s attention that Martin is the only one on the team who’s recorded more than one or two statements, either. He shouldered the burden without question or complaint, for no other reason than to help Jon out. Martin has become the only person in the Institute Jon trusts completely and without question, because if anyone has earned that trust, it’s Martin.

“I just...I figured you knew how I felt,” Martin mumbles. “Even aside from the tapes. I know you just...know things sometimes, too. And, let’s face it, I’m not exactly subtle. Tim—” His voice hitches slightly on their friend’s name. “Tim used to love taking the piss out of me for it. So even if you weren’t psychic—”

“I’m not—all right, fine, I’m psychic. But I’ve never read your mind,” Jon tells him. “I—I try very hard not to invade people’s privacy, especially the people I care about, even accidentally. And I’m—I can be somewhat oblivious at times,” he adds with a self-deprecating laugh. “I suppose...I suppose I didn’t see it because I thought there was no possible way I could be so lucky.”

“Lucky?” Martin repeats, sounding faintly surprised.

Jon reaches up with one trembling hand and cups Martin’s cheek. “To have you feel the same way about me that I do about you.”

He tries not to voice his thoughts aloud, tries not to think about what Martin said the first time, when they were still trapped in Peter Lukas’s hellscape. I loved you. Not present tense, past tense. Loved. Jon knows, with a certainty that has nothing to do with the Eye, that he’s not going to stop feeling this way any time in his life. And if it’s now as one-sided as he always assumed it was, well, he’s lived with it this long. It won’t bother him too much.

Both the Eye and his own, actual brain chime in to inform him that he’s only kidding himself. It will bother him; it will hurt deeply to know that he could have had a chance at happiness, at maybe a little bit of peace, and he missed out on it forever because he couldn’t get his head out of his arse long enough to tell Martin why he agreed so readily to leave him behind before traipsing off to blow up a circus. He hopes like hell that Martin’s words were just an effect of the Lonely, that the world they were in warped his mind and made all his thoughts and feelings in the real world seem distant and unreal, because as terrifying as that thought is, the idea that Martin might have really stopped loving him is worse.

Of course, he thinks bitterly, see previous statement regarding there being no possible way I could be so lucky.

There seems to be an eternity in the heartbeat between Jon’s statement and the small, broken sound that escapes Martin’s lips. He turns his head slightly and brushes his lips against the palm of Jon’s hand, just for a second, then leans into the hand and wraps his arms around Jon, tight and secure. Jon can’t help the gasp of relief as he returns the embrace as fiercely as he dares, silently offering up a prayer of thanks to whatever higher power has decided to give him a damned break for once in his life.

“I—” Jon tries again, but the words stick in his throat just as hard. He wants to say it. Needs to say it. Needs Martin to understand. But they just won’t come.

“I know,” Martin whispers, his voice thick with tears. “Me, too, Jon.”

There are no words, in any language, to describe the emotions that flood over Jon with that. Or maybe there are, but Jon can’t think of them. All he can think is thank you thank you thank you as he presses his face into the space between Martin’s neck and shoulder. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s never deserved Martin, his loyalty and quiet devotion, everything that’s served as a touchstone, a way to ground Jon to reality, the one thing keeping him from losing himself completely. It’s been hard, keeping his distance from Martin since he woke up from his coma, but he realizes it hasn’t exactly been a picnic for Martin either. Jon at least had Basira and Melanie and Daisy, even if at least one of them wanted to kill him at any given time, and even though none of them are Martin, none of them could ever understand him the way Martin has from the very start. Martin had no one, and even if it was his choice—or he was pretending it was, anyway—it had to hurt. All those months in close, near-constant proximity to Peter Lukas, the avatar of Isolation, would destroy a weaker man than Martin Blackwood. Jon knows, with utter certainty, that he would never have been able to survive that. He would have given in. He would have broken. But Martin stayed the course and survived.

And then Jon almost lost him anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the sound muffled by Martin’s shirt. “I’m so sorry. If I’d...”

“Don’t,” Martin chokes. “’S not your fault. You didn’t—this isn’t on you.” He lets out another short laugh, but there’s no bitterness in it this time and it makes Jon’s heart lighten a little. “You saved me.”

“You saved me first. We’re even.” Jon tries to laugh. “Actually, I think you’re still well ahead.”

Martin huffs, but doesn’t argue. Jon senses it’s less because he agrees and more because he doesn’t have the energy. “Don’t suppose you know the way out of this maze.”

“That...no. I don’t,” Jon admits. He shifts back enough to look up at Martin’s face, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t know if he can right now. Maybe not ever. “I only got down here because—Jonah called me. I’d like to think I’d have been able to find you, but these paths are...”

“Distorted?”

“Yes, that’s probably the best word for them. I doubt I could have retraced your steps and made it.”

Martin’s lips twitch in a smile. “Maybe it’s like leaving the Lonely. Maybe you just have to pick a direction and keep moving that way.”

“No, that wasn’t it,” Jon corrects him. “It wasn’t that I knew where the exit was, either. I didn’t...not exactly.”

“You said you—” Martin stops. “No. You said you knew the way out. That’s it, isn’t it? The only way out of the Lonely was together.”

Jon brushes his knuckles against Martin’s cheek fondly. “I knew you were still part of the Archives.”

Martin blushes. He takes Jon’s hand in his and kisses the back of it gently. “Well, then, maybe we can find our way out of here together, too. If you’re ready.”

Jon can feel his own cheeks heating up. He nods. “I think I’m about as ready as I’ll be able to be down here. You?”

“Same. Feel like I could sleep for a week, though.”

It’s on the tip of Jon’s tongue to suggest they collapse in the back room of the Archives, where Martin stayed when they were worried about Jane Prentiss, but he holds off. First of all, he suspects neither one of them wants to relive those days, especially as Prentiss was closer than they’d suspected. Even now, Jon’s heart lurches and stutters when he remembers those worms working their way through the walls, how close they came to getting to Martin when he was alone and vulnerable, and he doubts Martin has forgotten that either. Second, and more importantly, Jon is fairly certain the Institute is going to be crawling with police, between the thing that isn’t Sasha getting loose and Travis and Julia outright murdering people. The Archives are almost certainly a crime scene, and there’s no way they’ll be able to stay there, even if they want to.

“We might be able to get some sleep down here first,” he says instead.

“Not sure how much sleep I’d actually be able to get with...” Martin trails off, glancing over to where Jonah Magnus’s body lies. “And what if he comes back?”

“Both excellent points. Upwards, then. And let’s hope there’s nothing worse waiting for us than Basira.”

They manage to get to their feet. Jon isn’t sure who assists whom, but they struggle up together. Before they start to move, though, Jon tugs Martin around and hugs him again. He’s not sure he’s quite ready to head through the tunnels, through the Spiral’s domain, and up to the undoubted chaos awaiting them in the Institute. He just wants another moment of quiet. And more than that...he just needs to reassure himself, again, that Martin is here, solidly present and warm and safe, or at least as safe as they can be in the world they inhabit.

Martin hugs him back, just as tightly. Jon can feel the same emotions roiling through him as he does, relief and love and the lingering remnants of fear. He tries to shut them out, tries to do Martin the courtesy of not prying into his brain, until he realizes that it’s not his abilities as the Archivist, it’s simply that Martin’s feeling those emotions so strongly that anyone who knew him could pick up on them. It may also have to do with the fact that he’s shaking slightly.

“Has anyone touched you since you...came back?” Martin asks in his ear. He sounds a little sad.

It takes Jon a moment to realize what Martin means. “I did get a hug from Melanie right before she...resigned. Other than that, nothing very pleasant.” He looks up at Martin, whose eyes radiate so much sympathy it almost hurts. “You?”

“That’s on me. And I don’t...you need that, Jon. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I could have...asked someone.” It’s ridiculous, and Jon knows it, and he knows Martin knows it. Basira is prickly and stoic and very much not the touchy-feely type, and Melanie was angry with him for so long, partly because of the bullet in her leg and partly because Jon was a convenient target for her feeling of being trapped. And while he and Daisy have come to an accord, she’s got her own traumas and neuroses to deal with and Jon’s never been sure where the line between his needs and hers might lie. Once upon a time he might have been able to count on Georgie for at least a few friendly touches, but, well, that bridge was well and truly burnt. But he won’t let Martin blame himself for this. “Let’s just agree that we both need to agree to stop ignoring our needs in favor of protecting the people around us and practice being a little kinder to ourselves, hmm?”

Martin’s lips twitch in a smile. “I promise to ask next time before I assume I know what the best thing to do to protect you is.”

Warmth flows through Jon, and he returns the smile. “And I promise to do the same.”

Martin bends over and presses his forehead against Jon’s. Jon closes his eyes, feeling calm soak through him. It’s probably a ridiculous thing to feel, as the likelihood that things are going to be all right even for a little while is slim to none, but he’ll take it while he can.

Whatever is coming, Jon is sure it’s nothing they can’t face together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Perhaps love is like the ocean, full of conflict, full of pain Like a fire when it's cold outside or thunder when it rains If I should live forever and all my dreams come true My memories of love will be of you...

[winchester19-67]

Tough Love

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Injury, Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 3,632

Square Filed: Enemies to Lovers (Genre Bingo)

Square Filled: First Time (Dean Bingo)

A/N: This was written for @spngenrebingo, and @spndeanbingo.

"Really, Sam?" Dean says when he sees you walk into the motel room. "I said that we needed some help, not a liability."

"Gosh, Winchester, tell me what you really think about me," you say as you set your bags down by the door.

"Dean, you said it yourself that we can't do this one alone," Sam tells him. "(Y/N) was close by, and if you were able to put aside whatever grudge it is that you're holding against her, you'd see that she's just as good of a hunter as we are."

"Is that why we end up saving her butt everytime that she works a case with us?"

"What is wrong with you?" you ask him. "You needed help, I'm here."

"We'd be better off without you at all."

"You know what?" you begin as you pick your bags up from off the floor. "I think that I'm gonna go get my own room."

"Good."

"No, stay," Sam says quickly.

"Fine," Deans scoffs. "But she is sleeping on the couch."

Dean storms off, and Sam turns to look at you. "You can have..."

"That's okay," you tell Sam as you hold a hand up to stop him. "The couch is fine."

"Uh, what on earth do you think you're doing?" Dean asks you the next morning as you go to get in the car. You turn around to face him and you raise an eyebrow at him.

"You said that we were leaving in five minutes."

"Take your own car."

"What for?"

"Dean, come on," Sam tells him in an exasperated tone. "Cut her some slack."

"Why?" Dean asks. "We're just gonna end up having to save her life."

"You'd better watch it, Winchester," you tell him. "I might just have to save your butt sometime."

Dean scoffs. "Wouldn't count on it, sweetheart. I don't think that I want you coming to my rescue anyways." You roll your eyes and get in the car, slamming the door shut behind you.

"What was that all about?" Sam asks him. "Why do you hate (Y/N) so much anyways?"

"I don't hate her," Dean tells him. "She just doesn't need to be going around acting like she knows what she's doing, because she doesn't."

"Dean, you know that that's a bunch of crap," Sam tells him. "(Y/N)'s just as capable as either of us are."

Dean rolls his eyes as he takes his place behind the wheel. He turns in his seat to look at you, a scowl already set into his expression.

"You don't make a sound," Dean tells you.

"Yes sir," you reply as you give him a mock salute. Sam sits and shakes his head at the two of you, knowing that this is going to be the longest car ride of his life. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You okay?" Sam asks you as he limps over to where you're standing leaned up against Baby.

"Yeah," you sigh as you look down at your left arm where the bullet wound is at. "Just grazed me, I think." Dean walks over to throw his bag into the trunk before slamming it down. His green eyes meet yours, and you take the opportunity to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Dean asks you as he shrugs his shoulders at you. He just stares at you for a minute before it finally dawns on him. "Hold up," Dean laughs. "You mean that you actually want me to apologize to you for shooting you in the arm?"

"Yes, Dean, that would be the acceptable thing to do in this situation."

He glares at you. "You wouldn't have gotten shot if you would've just listened to me for once."

"Are you really going to blame me for you shooting me?"

"We were up against two shapeshifters who could've decided to look like either of us whenever they wanted to," Dean begins. "That's why I told you to stay behind me so that we could make sure that we knew which one of us was real, but no. Little miss know-it-all (Y/N) had to take off without me knowing. So when I saw you run around the corner, yeah I shot. I thought you were the shifter and if you would've just stayed put, you wouldn't have gotten hurt!"

"You had to know that it was me, Dean, because if you really thought that I was the shapeshifter, then I wouldn't be standing here right now. You wouldn't have hit me in the arm. You would've aimed where you knew that you'd take the monster down, and you wouldn't have missed."

"Okay, fine!" Dean yells as he throws his arms up in the air. "I didn't know for sure so that's why I aimed at your arm. When I realized that it was really you and not the shifter, I felt bad. I'm sorry! There. You happy?"

"Wow, Dean," you scoff. "Really felt the sincerity there!"

"Enough!" Sam yells as he shakes his head at the both of you. "Look, I don't know what is going on between you two, but you have got to figure it out before you two drive me completely insane."

Sam gets in the car, and you and Dean glare at each other for a moment before doing the same. The car ride to the motel room is completely silent. When you get there, you grab your bags and start over to your car.

"Where are you going?" Sam asks you.

"Home," you reply.

"You can't exactly drive with a bullet wound in your arm," Sam tells you. "A least let me stitch you up before you bleed out."

"Fine," you sigh as you follow the boys into their motel room.

"How's that feel?" Sam asks as he pulls away from you to examine your arm.

"Okay," you shrug. "Stings a bit, but at least I'm not bleeding out anymore."

"Good, now you can leave," Dean tells you.

"She doesn't need to be driving tonight with her arm like that," Sam says.

"It's okay, Sam," you tell him truthfully. "I'll get my own room." You grab your bags and head towards the door. Sam throws Dean a look as you shut the door behind you.

"What is wrong with you?"

"She messed up again and tried to blame me for it."

"Well, Dean, maybe that's because you shot her in the arm!"

"I didn't do it on purpose like she thinks that I did."

"Wouldn't put it past you with the way that you've been acting, Dean," Sam tells him. "I don't know what your problem with (Y/N) is, but she's been nothing but helpful to us ever since we met her, Dean. Somehow, she overlooks the snarky comments and mean looks that you send her way. She overlooks the fact that you hate her."

"I don't hate her!" Dean tells Sam. "Look, I don't have a problem at all with (Y/N). She's a sweet girl."

"But?"

"But she has no place doing what we do, Sam!" Dean tells him. "She's gonna get herself killed."

"That doesn't give you the right to be a jerk to her!"

"Can we drop this?"

You catch a few words of the brothers' argument as you unlock the door to the room that you'll be staying in tonight. You walk inside and throw your bags down onto the floor.

You know that you're not the best hunter there ever was. You know that you're human and that you make mistakes. You don't need Dean throwing those facts in your face every time the boys call you for help.

If they don't want you around then why do they even ask?

You feel the tears begin to gather in your eyes, but you shake your head and will them away. You won't cry over this. You're tougher than this. You're not living to please Dean Winchester.

Still. Words hurt.

You try to ignore the aching in your chest as you curl up under the covers. You close your eyes and try your best to drift off, but your mind just doesn't seem to want to let you. You know that you messed up today and that it wasn't entirely Dean's fault that you got shot.

Maybe Dean's right. Maybe you aren't as good of a hunter as you think that you are. Maybe you do mess up more than you help out. Maybe you are just a burden and you need to quit hunting for everyone's safety.

You can't lay there anymore. You need to get up or you're going to keep over thinking and loose your mind. You jump up out of bed and head outside to get some fresh air. You know that you were laying there for over an hour throwing yourself a pity party, so it's darker and a lot colder outside now than it was when you first went in.

You wrap your arms around yourself and try to bring yourself some warmth. The tears flowing down your cheeks certainly don't help anything.

Dean's laying in bed staring up at the ceiling through the dark when he hears something outside. Dean gets up out of bed and heads over to the door. When he opens it, you turn around to face him and he frowns.

"Sorry. I heard something and thought that I'd better check it out."

"It was just me," you say softly. "Go on to bed."

"You're crying," Dean says as he completely steps outside and shuts the door closed behind him.

"It's no big deal," you wave him off.

"Your arm bothering you?"

You sniff and shake your head at him. "No, Dean, my arm's fine."

"It's what I said."

You look down at the ground and nod your head. "Partly," you say quietly. "Mostly because what you said is pretty much true, although I don't need you to remind me of my failures every time that I turn around."

Dean sighs. "(Y/N), listen..."

"I don't know what I did wrong," you say to Dean as fresh tears gather in your eyes. "What did I do to make you hate me this bad? So what if I'm not the best hunter ever? That gives you no right to talk to me like you have been, or to blame me for you shooting me in the arm. And let's not even mention the fact that I did save your butt today and you never even thanked me for it. Instead, you jump down my throat and I got a bullet to the arm in return for my hard work."

"I don't hate you," Dean says quietly.

"What?" you ask, barely even hearing what he just said.

"You said that you don't know what you did to make me hate you so much," Dean says. "I don't hate you."

"Could've fooled me," you scoff.

"I know why you think that and I know that I need to tone it back," Dean says. "But I don't hate you. That's not the reason why I treat you like I do."

"Then what's the real reason?" you ask him. "Please tell me, Dean, how you treating me like crap isn't a way of you telling me that you hate me."

"I don't want you to get hurt," Dean says. "I've been acting the way that I have towards you because I thought that it would encourage you to drop out of hunting because I don't want you to get hurt." You almost start laughing, but then you see the sincerity that's held in his eyes.

"You're being serious," you say. Dean barely nods his head. "Then why on earth couldn't you just tell me that and save me from crying my eyes out because I don't feel like I can do anything right?"

"I'm sorry about that," Dean says sincerely. "And I'm sorry about shooting you in the arm too."

"You still didn't answer me," you tell him. "Why didn't you just go ahead and tell me that you didn't want me to get hurt?"

Dean swallows hard. "(Y/N), I couldn't risk it."

"Couldn't risk what? What's going to happen by you telling me the truth for once?"

Dean looks you in the eyes and takes a deep breath. "I was afraid that if I told you that I didn't want you to get hurt, that I would slip up and tell you how I really feel about you."

You go silent for a while as you try to process what Dean just told you. "You mean that you don't want to tell me that you hate me? Well, good job, Dean, because your actions already make that pretty clear without having to hear it..."

"I don't hate you!" Dean says loudly, obviously aggravated by the fact that you keep saying that. "I like you, (Y/N). I like you a lot."

"Right," you scoff.

"I couldn't tell you because you know what happens to people like us when we admit our feelings," Dean tells you. "And, well, it's like I've already said. I didn't want to see you getting hurt and I especially didn't want that to happen because of something that I said."

"Oh, wow," you breathe out. "You're not kidding, are you?"

Dean shakes his head. "I feel bad enough for shooting you in your arm. I don't know what I'd do if you got killed because I told you... Because I told you that I love you."

"You love me?" you ask Dean as you raise an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

Dena shrugs his shoulders. "I'll admit," he begins, "at first I thought that you were arrogant and going to get yourself killed. But then I realized how smart you actually are, and that I was an idiot for thinking that you were anything but capable. I realized how pretty you actually are inside and out. And then that one night after the hunt that you had to help me with because Sam was sick..."

"The werewolves," you say softly.

Dean nods his head. "When we got to the motel room that night, I was beating myself up pretty bad because of what had happened. I couldn't help that little girl and she died right there in front of us. I was blaming myself and I couldn't sleep at all that night, so you climbed into bed with me, despite the crap that I had put you trough that day, and you held me. No words. Nothing said about it afterwards or the teasing that I no doubt deserved. Just the comfort that you somehow knew that I needed.

"That's when I realized that I was wrong. Even me and Sam make mistakes while hunting. But after that, all I could see was your dead body laying there on the ground after some monster got ahold of you, and the feeling that the thought caused... I didn't like it. I didn't like the feeling of putting you down and yelling at you, either. I thought it was the only way to get you to quit hunting was to discourage you, but it was wrong of me to do that to you. Now that I know that you spent hours laying in your room all alone crying because of me... (Y/N), I can't apologize enough."

Dean steps closer to you, reaching a hand out to lay it on your cheek and giving you an apologetic look.

"If you can't forgive me, then I understand," Dean tells you. "But please don't hate me. I don't think that I could live with that."

You shake your head. "I don't hate you, Dean," you tell him truthfully. "But I'm not too thrilled with the way that you've been treating me, even if it is for the reason that you say. You want me to quit hunting then you talk to me. I'm not gonna promise that I'll listen to or agree with you, but you don't put me down like you have been."

"I know," Dean says softly. "I'm not good with this whole feelings crap."

"Maybe we can simplify it a bit until you catch up," you tell Dean. "Why don't we try to quit tearing at each other's throats when we're near each other, and then maybe, just maybe, we can start out as friends and work our way up? See where it goes?"

"Really?" Dean asks, his eyes holding a hopeful gaze that you can't help but to smile at.

"Really," you nod. "But you have to realize that I am giving you a lot of trust and forgiveness in one package here."

"I understand," Dean replies. "And you have to know that I am so sorry and that I will never be able to make it up to you."

"We'll see about that," you smile. "Goodnight, De..." Before you can finish what you were about to say, Dean takes your face between both of his hands and firmly presses his lips to yours. It's better than you could've ever imagined. Not that you ever have. Okay, that's a lie. Dean's soft lips move against yours as his hands hold your face as if you'll break. When Dean pulls away, he looks down at you with dark eyes before giving you an unsure look. "Maybe we can start out as a little bit more than just friends," you say quickly before pulling Dean down into a much more heated kiss.

"Room?" Dean mumbles against your lips as he settles his hands onto your waist. You point over your shoulder, and Dean begins to back you up. He reaches his arm around you to open the door before backing you up into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot. You quickly unbutton Dean's shirt, pushing it down onto the floor as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt. He quickly pulls it off over your head before beginning to unbuckle his belt.

"That's my job," you tell Dean as you swat his hands away.

"Yes, Ma'am," Dean chuckles. You make quick work of his belt and pull it through the loops before moving on to his zipper. "(Y/N)," Dean groans against your mouth as you move slowly.

"Someone's impatient," you tease. You slowly move the zipper down the rest of the way, but Dean growls and gently pushes you away a bit.

"Too slow, sweetheart," Dean huffs before quickly ridding you both of the rest of your clothing. He gently grabs you by the hips again and pulls you in. Dean's lips meets yours as he begins backing you up towards the bed. You lay down, and Dean moves so that he is hovering over you. "You're sure?" Dean asks.

"I'm sure," you tell Dean as you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. He smirks a bit before leaning down to attack your neck with kisses.

You figured that things would be more rushed than this. You thought that it would be more about chasing your release. That's not what this is at all. Dean takes his time to touch and kiss every inch of your skin that he can. He takes his time to make sure that you're comfortable and that you want him to continue. It's a slow build, but you don't mind. As long as Dean doesn't stop doing the things that he's doing to you right now.

"We have a lot to talk about now," you tell Dean as your head rests over on his bare chest. Your hands are twined together over his stomach, and his thumb softly brushes over your knuckles as he presses soft kisses to the top of your head.

"Like what?" Dean asks softly.

"We literally went from going at each other's throats to just going at each other."

Dean chuckles as he tightens his free arm around you. "What's there to talk about? I love you. You wanted all of this."

"Dean, you know as well as I do that there's more to it than that," you tell him. "We can't just keep doing this and pretend that these past few years haven't happened."

"I know that I have a lot to make up for, (Y/N)," Dean tells you. "I know that there's no excuse for the way that I treated you, but I can't take it all back. I wish that I could. I wish that there was some way for me to erase it all."

"How about you just try to take it easy on me from now on?" you ask him.

"No," Dean scoffs.

"Please?" you pout.

"Tough love, sweetheart." You laugh a little and shake your head at him. "Your arm's bleeding again," Dean says suddenly when he realizes that you're bleeding through the bandage that Sam wrapped around your arm.

"I'm okay, Dean," you tell him truthfully.

"Did I hurt you?" Dean asks, concern brimming in his beautiful, green eyes.

"No, Dean. It wasn't your fault. The stitches probably just gave."

"It's my fault that you're hurt in the first place though," Dean says as he begins to sit up on the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I can fix this."

"Dean..."

He hushes you by leaning over and pressing his lips firmly to yours. "Let me fix it," Dean tells you softly. "Just think of it as my first step towards earning your forgiveness."

"Okay," you smile. Dean kisses you again before standing up off the bed. "Hey, Dean," you say as he picks his shirt up off the floor and pulls it on over his head.

"Hm?" Dean hums as he turns around to face you. You take a deep breath and give him a nervous smile.

"I think that I might love you too.”

Tags: @polina-93​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @justanotherwinchester​ @blue-pink-green​

[talesofsonicasura]

Diamonds and Voodoo

You Do Voodoo

A mysterious visitor comes to Morioh. Paths diverge and intertwine with the various townfolks of this crazy, noisy bizarre town. And it all started with a good deed touched by a bit of magic.

Good deeds tend to create ripples throughout what we know as life. Sometimes an act of kindness can lead to great rewards. At rare times the road to hell is often paid with good intentions. Nevertheless, this type of charity has a habit of changing the future of one or many individuals. For sometimes, a grand adventure begins with that very act of kindness.

"Look out!" Morioh, a small town amongst the middle of nowhere quite unlike many cities found in Japan. A type of place that tends to be quiet but also hosts some oddities within its dwellings. Unlike many small towns, Morioh would become ground zero for a strand of very bizarre events and each with their own level of danger.

A car was parked awkwardly sideways between the road and crosswalk. Upon closer inspection, this was a crash as the front end was inward from the telephone pole currently wedged inside the bright red metal. To the side was an abandoned bicycle alongside a police officer and what many from this town could call a foreigner. The officer holded the visitor close to his chest almost awkwardly, the telltale of being grabbed.

The officer was an older and surprisingly buff male, darkened grey hair hidden under his cap, eyes that had a natural glint of kindness despite the concern now shining for the person in their arms. A would-be victim of the car accident was a young woman around her late teens, between 16 or 17 from the bits of remaining baby fat still left on her face.

Her skin was slightly tanned in a more climate related basis, such as sun exposure than natural skin tone, hair a short messy lime green hidden under the top jaw of a dinosaur-esque skull, a 5'8 body that was slim, lean and had moderate bust along with curves, but it was her eyes and her arms that drew the most attention.

The young woman's arms were decorated in wavy almost vine patterned tribal markings with a four toes pad on each shoulder and her eyes had a unique case of heterochromia with the right being a normal orange but the entire left eye was blue except for a single white pupil. Her outfit consisted of dark blue fingerless gloves, red sneakers, light brown cargo shorts, a black bra and opened orange vest outlined in red.

"You okay there missy? That car almost hit you if I didn't pull you away in time." The officer questioned, his voice soft and kind in a sort of grandfatherly way. She merely looked up at him with a large impish smile. Not even scared or off-put that a speeding car almost made the teen paste on the street.

"I'm good mister! Just glad no one else got hurt either. Car accidents aren't something normal folks can handle and I rather get hurt than somebody else! I'm more than capable of taking some nasty hits!" The woman's peppy, slightly loud and light chuckle paired with the slightly morbid words had thrown the officer for a loop before he strangely found himself chuckling too.

"Hahaha. Well aren't you an odd but thoughtful young lady? I wish some of my friends on the force had that kind of energy. Everyone's been down as of late and honestly needs a pep talk or two." The greenette looked at his badge for a moment as if scanning for his name. Something that was quick to find apparently as it read 'Ryohei Higashitaka'.

With that in hand, she then reached into the pocket of her cargo while silently whispering his name. The officer or Ryohei honestly looked a bit surprised when the youth produced a peculiar item. It was a small brown wooden charm carved into a smiling mask. The mask was painted with red lips, yellow with green outlined eyes, large reddish eyebrows and four small feathers ranging from yellow, orange, purple and red.

"Please take this mister as a sign of gratitude. It's a good luck charm carved into the likeness of Aku-Aku, a spirit of protection. This charm shall ward off a great disaster in your future." The older man took the odd charm with a soft smile and looked it over. He softly chuckles before patting her head.

"Why thank you! It's pretty adorable and well crafted! I'll make sure to keep it close. Good luck is something a lot of people nowadays…" His eyes widened a bit upon realization. "Whoops! Careless me! I forgot to ask for a name. I am Ryohei Higashitaka, an officer of the Morioh Police Department. What's your name missy? I need it to file a report for ya and if you want to press charges." She merely gave an impish smile with a bit of her tongue sticking out.

"It's Taki-Taki, Taki-Taki Bandicoot."

Budo-ga Oka Middle and High School, one of the few schools within Morioh. A joint school where grades between 6 and 11th are together instead of being separate. It was also a place that had a quite an amount of delinquents which make up some of the school's student body.

Walking towards this destination from the local town square was a mountain of a man in very odd clothing. Hair was jet black and well groomed, eyes a bright ocean blue, body sculpted like a Greek God from every single inch out of 6'5 and a natural scowlish look on his face. Nearly all his clothes, from his coat, pants, shoes and torn back hat with golden pins stylized to spell Jo were white except for the man's shirt which was pitch black.

The man was currently looking over a paper, a report or letter from highly detailed it was in both text and a few select photos. His brows wrinkled in aggravation before muttering a soft 'Yare Yare Daze' under his breath. "Godamnit old man. You're too old to be causing this type of bullshit." He hissed, rough, husky and slightly aggravated tone to his voice making a few people steer clear of his vicinity.

Well… not just that. Unknown to the raven in question, there was something odd looking over his shoulder. This peculiarity was a mask of sorts. It looked vaguely human but the light blue material used to craft it was spectral from how it softly glow like wisps in the night sky.

An Aztec type crown at the top with four flat points as if it was a piece from a gear, large carved ears with faint spiral at the center, pure white eyes and mouth outlined in mauve, and the same mauve color to imitate flat eyebrows. Bystanders seeing the mask either quickened their step or blamed this bizarre sight as 'too much coffee' or 'no more liquor in the morning.'

"Huh. Guess an old man in his late 60s can get laid. Oh, so that's where the gardens are!" The young man nearly bit his tongue in shock from both the raspy, light and almost nerdy sounding male voice but also the fact it came from a floating tiki mask that took a closer look at his document.

He couldn't get a word out of his mouth as the mask flew off with surprising speed. "A Stand?! That means there's a Stand User nearby! You ain't getting away from me!" A bright golden aura began to burn around the adult upon giving chase to the airborne oddity. On the sidewalk, the man's shadow grew with the addition of a more peculiar one.

A few minutes passed when the chase was called off upon the mask being too far in the air to pursue, the extra shadow vanished as the adult male let a growl in annoyance. He lowers his hat with a curse. "Damn it. If that thing's responsible for the recent incidents going on in this town…" The man then went to a payphone before dialing in a number.

"This is Jotaro Kujo. Tell the heads of the Speedwagon Foundation that there is confirmed Stand activity in Morioh. Look into the database about a Stand in shape of a glowing blue mask and the possibility if it's connected to Dio." The phone was slammed down as the white coat of the man fluttered while he left.

"Poke!" A finger poking the little snout of a box turtle that had swam up from the water of the makeshift pond seated by a small bus stop. Sitting on the curb of the pond beside was the odd Taki-Taki, currently petting the small reptilian much to its pleasure. "You're a handsome turtle, aren't you? Much nicer than the big ones back home." She cooed while the turtle rubbed itself against her hand clearly in love with the kind contact.

A little whimper had the young woman look around in utter confusion. Soft heterochromia eyes soon met bright baby blue ones tinged with a bit of fear. That fear directed to the little reptile nipping at the greenette's fingers.

A 5'11 muscular young man with blue violet hair tended neatly into a large pompadour, a dark violet gakuran pinned with a yellow heart and gold peace on each side of his chest, sunshine yellow shirt that peeked through the gap of his uniform coat, and dark boots were the owner of these baby blue orbs.

"You okay? Look like you're about to pee yourself." Taki-Taki questioned upon the fidgeting male still looking at the turtle as if it tried to eat him. He immediately calmed down a bit now noticing he wasn't exactly alone, cheeks dusting a bright red. "I'm so sorry! Reptiles just give me the willies that's all, mostly turtles." His soft and slightly rough almost if still adjusting practically rattled with nervousness.

She merely chuckled whilst waving off any concern. "It's alright! Everyone is afraid of something so no harm done. Plus this little handsome fellow is much more kinder than the ones I've seen in Turtle Woods. Those turtles were mean and one tried to steal my hat!" Her spare hand pointed at the dinosaur skull on her head since the other was still petting the shelled reptile.

The pompadour wearing young man shivered upon the two words 'Turtle Woods' but was honestly thankful that she wasn't making fun of him for his phobia. Taki-Taki then stood up whilst petting the turtle's head one more time. "I better go! Promised to get some stuff with my friend Lani-Loli and we're supposed to meet up at the gardens! Chou!" And she was gone with a pep to her step.

"My name is Josuke Higashitaka… And she's gone. Maybe I'll see her again." The sound of male cursing grew as the purple pomp prince noticed a bunch of male students coming over to him. Delinquents from their rude, downlooking and glaring faces, something that only made him sigh. Days like these tend to suck.

The Higashitaka household, home to the Higashitaka family which consisted of the older police officer Ryohei, his daughter but also single mother Tomoko and Tomoko's son Josuke. A lively place from the unique personalities of the three living inside. Well, it wasn't like this right now.

Peculiar water slipping away from the house window almost like a cobra finished with their prey. A fact so true upon the still body of the family matriarch lying lifeless on the floor. Face carved in blood coated horror slowly changes to a pristine clean outlook through a soft golden aura. Almost if the man died in his slumber and not of gruesome supernatural murder.

The golden aura belonging to a bubblegum arm coated in crystalline diamond armor soon vanishes inside the body of Josuke. Behind Josuke was Jotaro, the man clad in white being a relative, his nephew shockingly taken into consideration that his grandfather was the pomp prince's father. Who knew?

And the older man could only look at the teen that was his uncle trying to coax his dead grandfather back to life with sympathetic pity. Aquamarine eyes that always seemed stuck in a perpetual glare now softened at the scene. The look of someone who had seen a death like this before. Or to be more precise, had experienced such a grizzly sight.

Jotaro knew that this wasn't the time for grief fueled hysterics. There were more pressing matters and dangers ready to drown them from the inside. "Josuke…" Any further words from the older man, alongside any actions from the teen immediately stopped upon one thing. Subtle movement originating from the chest of the officer's corpse before them.

A sickly sweet scent reminiscent of cherries filled the air along with the soft sizzle of something burning. Thin wisps of smoke coming from the body's chest pocket spurred Josuke to go into the clothing's pouch. Baby blue eyes widened seeing a small brown tiki charm in his hands but specifically the feathers that were turning to dust.

"A voodoo charm?" The purplette's attention immediately went back to the corpse of his grandfather. His still chest slowly began to rise and fall almost as if… "He's breathing." It was the only conclusion Jotaro came to upon the subtle movements. The charm in the teenager's hands fully became ash once his previously deceased grandfather sat up looking purely confused.

"Ooh my head… I don't remember my favorite booze having that strong of a kick. Josuke? What are you doing here since I thought you were going out? Who's this guy? And why are you crying?" Ryohei didn't expect to wake up to such a scene or his own grandson to hug him so hard thinking he was about to kick the bucket.

He was quick however to notice the scent of cherry in the air alongside a missing weight in his breast pocket. "Did someone light a scented candle and where did my good luck charm go? Was I mugged or something Josuke?" The elderly man's inquiry had the two younger men share the same look. They needed answers.

/"You want to know who gave me that charm? Well, it was a young girl around my grandson's age. She had green hair, heterochromia with her eyes being orange and blue, and had what looked like a dinosaur skull on her head. Said her name Taki-Taki Bandicoot and came into town looking for ingredients. The charm was based off of a guardian of protection... Aku-Aku I believe she said."/

Information that had both Jotaro and his younger uncle running through the streets of Morioh in a hurry. Ryohei had been put into protective custody with a short call from whoever the raven had pretty high connections to. Something that man would have refused if it wasn't for the fact his son was crying. Josuke only cried when things were at the absolute worst. This made it easier to search without the man being in danger once more.

"I never thought my life would have gotten this insane. First an escaped death row inmate capable of killing his victims from the inside with water and now a Stand User capable of bringing back the dead! Things weren't like this until you came to town!" The highschooler quipped as if to ignore the harsh ache going through his legs.

"Your life was bound to become bizarre the moment you awakened your Stand, no, the moment you were born with Joestar blood. A curse everyone in this damned bloodline has. So don't blame me for the shitshow." Jotaro fired back in absolute annoyance. Their destination was the place mentioned by the woman when Josuke encountered her, Morioh's Springroll Garden.

"Maybe she can remove it? She does know voodoo and it does involve a lot of curse thingies? Do you think Taki-Taki can get rid of my fear of turtles?" The teenager's question was merely met with an eye roll from Jotaro. He was going to shout back an insult until something caught his eyes.

A lone figure standing amongst a large collection of various flora and vegetation belonging to one of Morioh's famous landmarks. More accurately a lonehuman figure and a soft blue floating oddity by them that was very damn familiar to the male clad in white. "There she is and that's the Stand I saw earlier!"

Taki-Taki was currently plucking a few mushrooms from underneath the bushes that provided their moist dark home and placed them into a small straw basket. Springroll Garden was a place where people could pick their vast garden by purchasing a special ticket and take home an entire basket full of items.

"It's kind of cool that the town has such a garden like this. Especially when it guarantees a free basket of fresh goods for first time visitors too!" The luminescent mask said with a big smile while looking at a bush full of white roses. His green haired friend merely let out a chuckle in agreement before speaking. "Same here pal. Makes it a lot easier to find the things needed to work my magic."

A loud shout had the two look up to see some familiar faces running their way. "Wouldn't you know? Hey Pompadour Prince, fancy seeing you here!" Taki-Taki's nickname immediately had the boy stop in his tracks. Face burning in anger until the words finally hitting turned that anger into pure confusion. The sudden confusion didn't stop the mask from cowering behind the greenette.

"Pompadour Prince?" He questioned while pointing to himself, clearly confused. "You kidding? That's the best pompadour I've ever seen. Also, calling you king is going a bit too far since we've barely known each other and aren't in a relationship." Her words caused the male teen to blush a bit paired with a smitten look and cheesy smile.

Jotaro merely elbowed Josuke's shoulder as the highschooler remembered what they were supposed to be doing. "Taki-Taki Bandicoot, we need you to come with us. We already know about you being a Stand User since your Stand is hiding right behind you but also that charm you gave Ryohei Higashitaka before he was attacked."

The greenette merely had a confused look before it immediately narrowed into glare after the words Ryohei Higashitaka and attacked. Her emotions were clearly being felt through the odd mask as it came out of hiding to glare at them. "I knew something bad was bound to happen upon seeing that dark aura. Tell me what you've done to that kind officer before I rip ya putzes a new one!"

Josuke was thrown off guard by the sudden aggression consuming Taki-Taki's features. It was as if a cloak of pure madness just overshadowed that sunny aura of the greenette. The change didn't deter Jotaro who refused to back down at her threat. As if proving his point, a gold aura started to radiate from his body.

"You need to calm down now. We aren't your enemies but I won't hesitate to knock you out even if you're a girl." The man spoke as something appeared from his body like an apparition. It was a humanoid spirit of sorts that appeared to be an Aztec Warrior or barbarian with similar origins.

Just as big and buff as his summoner but a bit more, soft blue skin that outlined a coral inner pink, black hair that flowed like smoke but sparkle as if it was stardust, soft ocean blue eyes and a body armed with white pauldrons painted in gold spirals, black fingerless gold studded gloves, a white scarf around their neck, black knee high boots and a long white loincloth alongside a dark tasset.

Yet, the strange being seemed to only piss off Taki-Taki even further as she went into her pant's pocket to pull out a small crystal orb. "You're going to threaten me with a giant in his skivvies? Alright jackass, hope your ready to party. For this Ooda-Booga Boogie of mine is going to send ya to the hospital!" And she crushed the crystal orb in her hand.

Both men only had seconds until a large blackish pink fist had punched Jotaro's spirit in the face, the ghost and summoner were sent flying out of the garden before kissing the street concrete. Josuke could only blink before seeing the thing responsible for sending his nephew airborne. "Holy shit!" For what stood snarling in front of Taki-Taki was an absolute monster.

A heavily built 9'6 tall slightly deformed anthropomorphic porcupine with vibrant magenta skin overshadowed by a darkish gray hide. A long singular black horn tipped with hot pink, burning crimson eyes that glared down at the man in white, a magenta muzzle overlapped with an giant overbite of fangs, multiple pink tipped black spikes across their back, their right arm covered in black armor in the form of a riot shield, and crimson hakama trousers with a black paw print on the side.

The beast snarled angrily at Jotaro while a trail of drool came down from their razor sharp maw. It then let out a loud and deep inhuman roar almost if challenging anyone foolish enough to face the beast's wrath. Jotaro had gotten back onto his feet, spitting a bit of blood on the road before wiping the remainder from his mouth. Some of it stained bits of his hat a dark crimson. His spirit staring at the beast with an analysistic glare.

"That's one hell of a sucker punch you got there. Quite an ugly bastard of a friend you have, makes me question which one it is though. Is the beast your actual stand or a byproduct of its power?" The question only seemed to aggravate the greenette and the large creature she called upon.

"That 'ugly bastard' is my friend Quill and what is with this Stand garbage anyway?! What I want to know is did you attack Mr. Ryohei?! My charm doesn't just vanish without fulfilling its purpose even if stolen. Now answer me or I'll beat the truth out of you!" Taki-Taki declared with a snarl that held inhumanely sharp teeth.

Josuke didn't have to be a genius to know if he didn't stop these two right now then things were going to get a lot worse. His nephew's Stand went in for a punch while the greenette's large beast followed suit. Neither attack landing their blow as two diamond covered pink hands caught both fists.

The culprit was a giant pink skinned warrior whose body was covered in Corinthian style diamond armor. He was huge with the same type of muscle like Jotaro's spirit, eyes were a bright baby blue that shone through the darkness of the heart top helmet with concern, wires connecting the back of his neck to his back, heart shaped diamond pauldrons with spikes, armor that over lined the side of his arms, legs and back, and diamond plating rings around the fingers.

Unlike Jotaro's Stand or Taki-Taki's giant beast, this one exuded a gentle and kind aura akin to that of a guardian or protector. Something that made sense from the soft magenta aura radiating from Josuke. "Please stop fighting! I don't want to see my nephew or the person who saved my grandpa hurt each other for something stupid!" The pomp prince's words carried strong as they were sincere.

Something the greenette easily felt upon Quill taking a step back as if backing down from the fight since there was no longer any hostility. Jotaro's Stand disappeared soon after while he muttered a soft 'Yare Yare Daze' under his breath. "Holy shit… I thought things were going to get ugly there. I don't think this garden deserves to be wrecked by a Spike." The mask's quip not being lost on anyone.

Later at the Higashitaka House, cups of tea were placed on the table. Sitting at the table on mats were Josuke, Jotaro and the odd woman known as Taki-Taki Bandicoot. To their left side strangely enough was the greenette's mask and both men's spirits that were conversing with each other or goofing off upon the playing cards between them.

"I still don't believe that Stands are basically the spiritual energy of someone given form. You sure they aren't warrior ancestors? Jotaro's Star Platinum looks like an Aztec barbarian and Josuke, your Crazy Diamond reminds of those old Greek soldiers from his armor." She said while looking at the three oddities playing Go Fish.

A Scrabble holder was being used for the mask or Lani-Loli's cards since he didn't have any hands. He would ask either Star Platinum or Crazy Diamond to put any of his matching cards down and when he needed to 'fish' a card. "Pretty sure. Couldn't I ask the same thing about Lani-Loli over there? Floating masks that can talk aren't normal either." Josuke quipped while pointing to the mask in question.

"Hey! I'm right here you know and I'm way older than all of you combined! And I would have you know that I was human before becoming a Quantum Mask! If I still had hands I would smack all three of you on the head!" The mask fired back in aggravation, some of the cards disappearing in blue wisps of smoke... alongside Josuke's clothes.

"Eeek!" He panicked immediately covering his crotch, Jotaro hiding his embarrassment under his hat while Taki-Taki turned her head away with face hot red in embarrassment. "Great Tikimon! Lani-Loli! Phase his clothes back now!" The mask quickly undoing his magic in sheer embarrassment. Josuke's clothes and the cards popping back into reality with similar blue wispy smoke.

Poor teen let out a sigh of relief knowing he wasn't nude in front of a girl anymore. "Sorry! Sometimes I accidentally poof things out of existence when I'm stressed! And nothing says stress like an escaped convict who kills people with living water!" Jotaro rolled his eyes at the smartass remark. For an all mighty ancient mask, Lani-Loli was an anxious nerd that was a scare away from passing out.

The reason why they were holed up in Josuke's house was that all of them were targets of the Stand User Angelo and his Stand Aqua Necklace.

Angelo was a psychopath with a taste of madness and penchant for violence. The man was arrested repeatedly for brutal acts like murder and even sexual assault before he was landed on Death row. Sadly his execution didn't work properly, allowing the maniac to escape the morgue and reach Morioh. He attacked Ryohei as the cop was the reason Angelo got arrested.

Due to the nature of his Stand, none of them could use water that came from anywhere but a bottle in fear of accidentally swallowing the dangerous entity. "And when do you think it's safe for us to go home? Unlike you guys, my dad will go nuts if I ain't back soon. None of us want to deal with an angry father much less my pops, Crash Bandicoot." Taki-Taki wasn't blind to the nervous look on the pompadour prince's face while he took a sip of his tea.

"Until that Stand User is caught." Jotaro didn't foresee the spray of tea hitting his face from the greenette's spit-take. The grown man was growling in his seat while the young woman tried to settle down her coughs. "You nuts?! That is the stupidest thing I ever heard and this is stemming from the fact my partner does insanely stupid stuff on a daily basis!"

Lani-Loli had flown over to the table so fast that the card pile dispersed from the sudden gust, much to both Stand's displeasure. "You said this guy's Stand is pure water right? What do we do when we run out of water? Wait, here's a better one! What happens if it rained? Shelter becomes a deathtrap in two seconds!" Both men's eyes widened upon the mask's words.

After settling down her coughing fit, Taki-Taki let out a soft whisper. "I think this is what that putz wants. Turn ourselves into sitting ducks and swoops in for the kill until it's too late. And it's going to rain in three days." Silence filled the room upon that very knowledge. The convict was planning to turn their stakeout into a trap.

Josuke could only sigh at the difficult hand. Sure, they now know the guy's plan but if they ignore it then finding Angelo would be even harder. It also meant that the psycho will find out Ryohei is still alive and won't hesitate to attack him again. "Then let's turn the tables back. Turn the hunter into the hunted." All eyes were on Taki-Taki in seconds.

She had a goofy smile on her face with her tongue sticking out in an impish manner. There was also the fact that another crystal orb was in her hands. An item that produced the monstrous Quill but unlike that one, this jewel was a shade of toxic green. Lani-Loli, upon seeing what his friend held, grew a mischievous grin of his own. The odd duo clearly had a plan that almost made Jotaro and Josuke feel an ounce of pity. Almost being the keyword.

Rain had finally fallen upon the house once three days had passed by. Taki-Taki had called her father about being home a few days late since some issues had cropped up. Neither Josuke or Jotaro heard the man's voice but what they gathered upon how the greenette talked, 'Crash' was kindly lenient. Although, both males would have to see him once she got back home.

They spent most of their time keeping themselves from getting bored. Board games, reading, or Taki-Taki crafting some… mysterious concoctions and trinkets with whatever she found in the Higashitaka household. Josuke could honestly admit that he didn't know there was a den of possums hiding in his walls but the witch doctor managed to get some possum fur and nail clippings after one landed on Jotaro.

The greenette at the moment was alone in the bathroom, various ingredients that surrounded a lone bucket. Each item was odd in their own right, rat tails, frog eyes, shiitake mushrooms, yew branches, spoiled milk and a bottle of water. Taki-Taki began pouring the ingredients into the vat starting with the rotten dairy.

She was chanting in an unknown language that eerily sounded like a mix of Arabic and Pig Latin. Bucket began to bubble from her words as the color shifted upon every ingredient dropped into the vat. Taki-Taki's water bottle was currently halfway empty through the process and the cap left abandoned to the side.

Unbeknownst to the woman, rain began to patter outside and something opaque began to build up by the window. It looked like water but it held a more bluish hue and moved too much like a living creature to be normal. Then a pair of sinister pink eyes and a grin full of sharp teeth slithered through.

"You sure this isn't a mango?" Josuke currently sat in the front room alongside Lani-Loli who floated over the teenager's shoulder. Standing on the table was a large orange fruit with a yellow bottom similar to a mango but two leaves that hung from a stem. The teenager currently poking at the fruit that had come from Taki-Taki's home.

"Nope! It's a Wumpa Fruit, a pretty common thing to find on the Wumpa Islands. They're much sweeter than mango and the juice is pretty tasty too. Especially when used for a Wumpa Smoothie, those are really good." Being curious upon the mask's words, the pompadour prince took a nicely sized bite of the fruit.

Tangy sweetness was the first thing that hit the highschooler's taste buds then a rich zesty flavor kicked in a matter of seconds. "Holy shit! This is actually pretty good. Yo Jotaro, you have to try this!" The raven poked his head out of the kitchen upon hearing his name. He let out an annoyed sigh before snatching the fruit out of the teen's hand.

"Did someone put salt in your oatmeal today?" Lani-Loli couldn't help but point out at the man's awfully sour mood added by the harsh bite he took out of the poor fruit or the vicious vice grip. "No. None of you are taking this situation seriously and last I checked didn't get an angry rodent trying to claw up your face." He hissed before taking another aggressive bite.

The sound of footsteps had gotten the two humans and mask turning their heads. Approaching them with an eerily quiet and dead stare was Taki-Taki. Her feet moving sluggishly to the point it was close to that of a sleepwalker… or if heavy weights were tied to the woman's legs.

"Taki?" Lani-Loli's voice thick with concern while he spoke his friend's nickname. Her response was to open her mouth slowly with evil pink eyes glaring back at them in the darkness. "Sorry but your little friend's life is now mine!" A vile, raspy and deep male voice coming out of the greenette's mouth, all to the horror of her friends.

"Aqua Necklace?! You bastard, get out of Taki-Taki now Angelo!" Josuke could only burn brighter in rage from the deranged laugh of the psychopathic water Stand. "And get rid of my only hostage?! Hell no! This bitch is the reason why Ryohei Higashitaka is still alive! She has the power to bring back the dead, a ticket to immortality!" The mask could only roll his eyes as if sensing a monologue.

"I've been watching you this whole time. I saw the giant beast she summoned and that mask phasing things through existence. With her as my slave, I'll be invincible! The world will be my toy box and every single person my toys that I can break for eternity! Once you're all dead, I'll break her until she's a mindless bitch who will follow my every…" The monologue was caught short upon her mouth snapping shut.

Yet, it wasn't the lips that closed the space but an eerie green substance reminiscent to goo. "The hell?!" Aqua Necklace tried to dive down the woman's throat only to run into another gooey green wall. Then he heard laughter. Pink eyes turned to see it was Lani-Loli who was responsible. He was cackling mischievously that tears looked ready to fly from how hard his laughter, much to the confusion of his friends.

"Haha! Hehehehe! You really thought it would be so easy! Taki and I faced way worse than your miserable hide. Oh, and that's not Taki-Taki you putz! Drop the charade Toxic!" Jotaro and Josuke immediately jumped back upon who they thought was Taki-Taki began to melt. All color draining away into a puddle of green slightly clear goo.

Crazy Diamond and Star Platinum were quickly summoned when that sludge started to rise up in the process of a transformation. The slime forming three toed misshapen legs, dripping fat arms with chubby fingers, a large yellow green belly that from its almost clear texture and Aqua Necklace being held inside looked more like a prison, and a roundish hippo like head paired with short pig ears, large deformed inhuman teeth and two alien yellow orbs looking back at it's observers.

The beast or Toxic's appearance could be compared to a 8 ft tall ogre or even an Oni, supernatural beings that tend to punish wicked humans. "Meet the Sludge, a creature made of magic infused ooze with a love for eating utter garbage, like your ugly face! I told Toxic here about your little plan involving my best friend."

Almost on cue, the large oozing beast let a loud snarl before smoke began filling in its tummy. "Aaaaaaah! What the hell is that smell?! It's getting hot in here! Don't tell me this is acid?!" The mask only had a vicious smile on his face that solidified the fact. "People like you make me sick. I've read your entire file and I bet it would even make Uka-Uka himself furious to see your deeds!" Aqua Necklace could only shiver in horror at the mask.

It was like Lani-Loli's nervous self had been overshadowed by pure animalistic rage that his eyes were narrowed slits and teeth were now large fangs held in a snarl. A deity ready to smite a sinner with divine punishment. Even Jotaro and Josuke were taken aback by the sudden shift.

"I may be a scaredy cat but I am still a protector. My name is Lani-Loli, the Quantum Mask of Phase! For ruining the lives of many, threatening my friends and having an unsavory plan for my contractor, I mark you Angelo and his Stand Aqua Necklace, guilty of your sins! And boy do I have a nice punishment for your wicked soul."

The mask then faced the two Joestar blooded men. "Josuke. Jotaro. Taki-Taki left earlier to find this cretin's owner hence my friend Toxic here taking her place. I know where she is and I'm going to need your help with something."

On a street a few blocks from Josuke's house sat a large boulder. This rock had laid on this spot for centuries after a stray storm left it stranded on the land that would become Morioh. Tied to this very stone was an unsavory dark haired man in a milkman uniform bound by chains and gagged with a black cloth. Bruises decorating his body no doubt from the slightly bloody fists of the witch doctor.

Taki-Taki turned her head and smiled upon the sight of her friends coming into view. Aqua Necklace was still trapped within the prison that was Toxic's stomach, who seemed mighty pleased at the abomination's struggle. "Damn, you did a number on the asshole." Josuke said much to the greenette's pleasure.

"I aim to please. Now then, Angelo, since you made a living of ruining people's lives I believe your punishment should be providing good luck." Taki-Taki then pulled from behind the rock was the bucket filled with her concoction. It was a bright bubbling pink and had a smell akin to rotten lavender. She didn't resist dumping the nasty vat all over the convict much to his displeasure.

The man was struggling in disgust before his movements slowed to a crawl as if his whole body was paralyzed except for his mouth and eyes. Taki then yanked the gag from Angelo's lips allowing the man to speak. "You...crazy bitch…! What have you done?" His raspy dry voice almost sounded like a dying cat from how quiet it was.

"A simple potion made to turn you into an eternal good luck charm for all the folks in Morioh! Bet you now wished that your original execution didn't fail. Josuke, this last part is all up to you. Today you will have to make a choice on how this man goes out." Taki-Taki's eyes narrowed as they glowed inhumanly under the dark cloudy sky.

"Ryohei Higashitaka was the one who put this man in jail and stopped his rampage. In vengeance, this scum tried to rob a righteous soul of his life. As Ryohei's grandson, will you fulfill his task and put an end to the man that escaped the grim reaper's blade? If not, then I will perform the deed with Lani-Loli. What do you say?"

The pompadour prince was a bit off guard by the witch doctor's words. Why would she ask him if he wanted to be the one that dealt Angelo's punishment? "Josuke?! Are you seriously going to let her kill me? Sure I tried to kill your grandfather but if you go along with this bitch's plan then you'll be a killer just like me!"

None of them were blind to the man's false pleas knowing it was a trick to let him go. A rat that will only wreak havoc if given a shred of mercy. Angelo's rants were caught off by a fist breaking both his hand and a chunk of the rock. The shocking thing was that the stone merged and encased itself around the appendage much to the psycho's horror.

"Aaah! My hand!! What are you doing?" Josuke merely ignored the man's painful cries. "You really think that we're going to let you go after all you've done. This town used to be a peaceful place before you came and played with people's lives! So for the rest of your days, you're going to pay back every family that you destroyed! Taki-Taki." The greenette smiled knowing what the young man wanted.

"Let's do this Lani-Loli! Armor up!" The cyan mask flew around Taki-Taki with trails of aqua wispy trails that followed from behind. The mask situated himself onto her back while the ghostly ribbons wrapped themselves around her body. Each wispy streak solidified to form a black jumpsuit of sorts which was highlighted by glowing aqua blue chunks of armor reminiscent of Lani-Loli's crown.

Taki-Taki's eyes were now completely glowing blue while velvet sky blue energy followed through the tattoos on her skin and turned her hair into luminous bluish mist. The sudden change to the witch doctor had the restrained Angelo sweating in terror and nearly pissing himself when Josuke's Crazy Diamond materialized.

"Dorarararararara!!!!" The armored spirit let out a battle cry as both him and the armored greenette let loose a barrage of vicious punches. Each strike was as destructive and fast as machine gun rounds, blowing off huge chunks of the stone and merging to the man trapped in the dead center. Neither of them stopping their assault until every piece of stone had been reassembled.

With one last brutal punch, the stone fragments had fully merged Angelo turning the once human male into a deformed boulder. This new shape of the large stone was a malformed face with wide eyes held in different angles, a large flat nose at the bottom similar to a maui and stress lines just like the person it used to be.

Aqua Necklace, who was still trapped in Toxic's belly, quickly melted away in seconds. No doubt the Stand could no longer survive without the life force of its user, thus following its master into hell. Jotaro could only grimace behind the guard of his cap.

[Morioh Landmark 1: Angelo's Rock. No one knows where this mysterious stone appeared from or why. Despite its unnerving appearance, this landmark is a hotspot for couples both old and new.]

'These three are bat shit crazy and have the strength to back it up. Luckily Josuke has a good head on shoulders but…' The raven's eyes drifted to Taki-Taki, her sludge summon and most importantly Lani-Loli still hanging onto her back. She was conversing with Josuke who took the time to look at her changed form and the living sludge Toxic in rapt curiosity.

'Taki-Taki isn't a Stand User but she's just as dangerous as one. Those beasts, Quill and Toxic, whatever they are no doubt has a connection to her origins. And then there's Lani-Loli. I don't exactly know what a Quantum Mask is but I have a feeling he isn't the only one. Just who are you?'

And that is it! This ended being super long since the story revolves around two whole episodes instead of one. It does take place in the beginning of Part 4 and I wanted to stick as close to canon involving them.

Yes, Taki-Taki can call upon Titans, the enemies normally found in the Crash of the Titan series. Unlike a large chunk of people, I actually like the Titan games. They were the first Crash games I played and 100%. I did play Crash The Huge Adventure for the gameboy advance but it got destroyed in the wash sadly before I got the last crystal.

Any version of Crash of the Titans is good but I suggest playing the DS version of Mind Over Mutant considering the console version is more of an annoying chore with tons of backtracking.

My favorite Titans are Spike and Rhinoroller. I especially love the boss version of Spike from the DS Mind Over Mutant but I haven't found the concept art of it yet.

Just like a witch doctor, Taki-Taki does craft all sorts of potions and charms. The Aku-Aku charm acts like a second chance. If someone who has the charm experiences death, the charm will revive them. Deaths done through murder are a bit different.

The charm will hold onto their soul until its safe to revive the holder. Any extensive damage is done and the soul is returned back to the body once repairs are complete. After use, the charm will disintegrate or dull out depending on how much damage was caused.

The Phase Armor given by Lani-Loli is much different for Taki-Taki when she uses it. Reason for it is that she's contracted to him thus the power and magic he provides is much stronger than someone who doesn't have a contract.

Even if Lani-Loli is quite a skittish character,that doesn't mean he won't get serious when needed. Angelo did a lot of horrible stuff that I bet even Uka-Uka wouldn't do. Uka-Uka may be evil but he has standards.

I wanted to try a different writing style for this considering Part 4 is more of a murder mystery. So I wanted to introduce particular areas, new landmarks and important information in a traversing to the next scene.

Until next time folks! Tell the world that your unbreakable!

[the-omni-princess]

Blood Bound [Chapter Six]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Vampires and witches have been known enemies since the dark ages. Backstabbing, secrets, and magic turned supernatural brethren again each other. As a natural-born witch, you grew up on these stories, your own monsters under your bed. What happens when one of those sworn enemies claims that you are his blood mate, the vampire equivalent of a true mate? Will you give in to this man out of time? Or destroy him for the sake of your Coven?

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: fluff, angst, first time meetings, minor character death, minor injuries, near death, vampire stuff, blood, sacrifices, cursing, mature talk, sex talk (I think this is all the warnings if I missed something please let me know)

A/N:

Also, how do people like the “previously on” bit? Should I just erase it? Stop using it? (I don’t use the previously for word counts)

Also, AHHHHH my fav chapter so far, finally enough build-up TO DO SOEMTHIGN

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[Series Masterlist]  [My Masterlist] [Playlist Inspired by the Series]

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Previously…

“Holy shit, I died in the Salem Witch Trials,” your voice rang out throughout the room. Bucky squeezed your hands gently, and you let him act as your tether to the mortal whelm. “We were killed by the very Council that had sworn to protect all witches, and you were saved by the vampires we were told by them to fear.”

“Well, this is just getting deeper and deeper. Before you know it, you’ll be telling me the Coven to the North died because they found out the Council has been killing Naturals.” Tony quipped from the side of the room.

The room froze, taking in the statement. “Well, it would explain a lot,” you murmured. “They were getting powerful, and dominant witches who don’t need as much energy to have magic aren’t easy to control.” That was the last connecting dot. The darkness in the distance wasn’t just some mythical monster. It was the very same man that stood in your living room and drank your tea just an hour ago.

--

“But all of that leads to the question of, where are Nebula and Gamora? Their bodies weren’t found with the Mountain Coven.” Maria rubbed behind Sasha’s ears, enjoying the cat’s insistent purring as she curled up on her lap.

“Mountains… Oh shit, if the Council is going to start investigating the Mountains, I need to warn Steve and Sam. Our hotel is right at the base of the mountains, the Council will blame us first.” Bucky’s grip on your hand faltered, nervously tapping his foot.

“That’s less than an hour away right? Go, bring them here.” It was a simple solution, and yet you had multiple people against it.

“We are not housing the bloodsuckers, y/n. No damn way.” Carol stood, puffing up her chest. It was most likely unconscious, as she tried to assert dominance, but you weren’t buying that.

“Listen, you trust me, I trust Bucky, Bucky trusts these two. The Council will murder them for even being in the vicinity of the Coven’s murders. Please, we have to. They’re his family.” Your hands started to spark, your emotions rising as you tried to plead with your sisters.

Most of them were not going to be happy about housing vampires, so you tried one last thing. “We have to be different than the Council.” That had Wanda and Maria turning away, Maria focusing solely on the cat, and Wanda finding the book she held open very interesting. Natasha and Pepper both were proud of you standing up for your Blood Mate, though the later still thought you were insane.

Carol had calmed down, enough that she saw your hands sparking, to which Bucky had no issue with. The usual burning sparks didn’t affect him as he gladly held onto you. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But at this point, it was going to join a long list of ‘things that were supposed to be impossible,’ right under reincarnation. She sighed softly, running her hand through her short hair before placing both hands in her overall pockets. “Fine. But I still don’t trust them.” She warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

Despite the literal death looks, Bucky beamed a goofy smile, elated to earn the, though hesitant, trust of your Coven. Looking up at him, your heart melted. Seeing his crystal clue eyes sparkle as he smiled made you wonder why the Council even started to hate Vampires in the first place. “Go. I’ll be here, waiting.”

“I’ll be just a minute. Promise, Sweetling,” he grinned, a peak of his fangs showing in his smile as he leaned slightly down and kissed your temple before rushing off.

“Okay, well how can I hate him if he’s that adorable?” Tony whined, wanting the attention he was currently lacking.

“You literally wanted to kill him twenty minutes ago, Tones,” you gave him a pointed look.

He simply shrugged, “That’s before he was calling you sweet names. I’m only protecting you, kid.”

You shot him an appreciative smile before pulling the book Wanda had shown you closer. God, that drawing did look like you. Charcoal with yellow aging lines in the paper, a few smudges, but it most definitely looked like you but in a pilgrim dress, complete with a bonnet covering your hair. While you grazed through the surrounding paragraphs, Bucky had arrived again, this time flanked by two very nervous looking vampires.

Now set on edge, the entire Coven was tense, staring down the newcomers. You stepped forward, giving them a small smile and stretching out your hand towards them. “Hello, welcome to my home, I’m y/n.”

The two new vamps gave each other a look before the darker-skinned man stepped forward. He took your hand and bowed, locking eyes with you as he kissed your knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, miss. I’m Sam, and the blonde idiot behind me is Steve,” he smiled warmly, a hint of fangs peaking behind his lips.

You blinked a few times, unsure how to react before Bucky thankfully took over. “Okay, okay, we get it, you have good manners. Hands off my girl, or I’ll get the silver,” he growled playfully, taking your hand from Sam and pulling you against his chest protectively. You blushed, tugging yourself away while giving him a glare before looking towards the two new vampires, unsure how to explain the insanity that was currently your life.

The blonde, Steve, took a step forward, hands in his pocket as he assessed you with a once over. “So, you’re the infamous Theodosia?” He wondered aloud.

Sparks lit up behind your eyes for a split second, “Is there a problem with that?” You challenged, squaring your shoulders and standing a little straighter, chin a little higher. You wouldn’t admit it, but Steve was intimidating; tall, broad shoulders and the knowledge that human killing fangs were just beneath those plush lips gave him a darker aura. Yet you had a strong feeling he was just as much of a puppy dog as Bucky was so you didn’t let your fear show.

Steve smirked faintly, relaxing, “None at all. Just curious is all. I’ve always wondered about the woman Buck would talk about in his sleep.” Bucky went red at the statement, glaring daggers at his packmate.

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling warmly. “Well, make yourself at home. Look out for Tony, he bites. If you need me, I’ll be looking for more spells for memory loss, or information on the Council, or on Soul Bindings,” you turned, Tony growling at the two, picking up a new book and plopping down on the windowsill. You frowned, quickly scanning through the pages, most of the Coven either joining you in looking for more information or in Carol’s case, practically interrogating Steve and Sam.

Bucky sat beside you, and you, not wanting to get distracted, kept flipping through pages while biting your lip. He slowly leaned his head against your shoulder, “You look cute when you're worried,” he murmured.

You couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on your face, “Well, I am worried. I’m hoping for some sort of improving memories spell. I want to remember you. Fully. Not just glimpses of the life we used to share.” You sighed softly, closing one book to open another. “I don’t want you to forget me again,” you admitted in a soft voice. It was selfish, after all, he didn’t choose to be turned, and yet, you were horrified this was all some joke. That you were being too trusting, or that it was all too good to be true, or, worse, there was something bigger and darker hiding in the shadows about to strike.

“I’m scared I’ll forget you too,” he admitted softly. Pausing between pages, the library now mostly empty, only Natasha quietly flipping through pages on the sofa, it felt more intimate. “I’m terrified. I just found you, I’m finally remembering again, and yet, I’m immortal. I’m just going to lose you again.”

Turning towards him, you tilted his chin up before cupping his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned against your touch. “I’m not going anywhere, James. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” He nodded faintly, losing himself to your touch, smiling warmly. “You don’t want to turn me, do you?” You questioned lightly.

“God no. I wouldn’t wish this curse upon my worst enemy. I want you to live a long healthy, normal life.” He quickly responded.

“Alright, relax vampy, it was only a question,” you teased.

Comfortable silence surrounded you two, content in simply existing beside each other. You ran your hand through his hair tenderly, letting him lean against you as you skimmed pages. Hours passed like this, quiet and searching, satisfied in the small moments. You didn’t learn much, not enough information was being written about Naturals, and even less so about Soul Bound Naturals, but you got the jest. Powerful alone and lethal together. Threatening one tended to make the other go wild. Hurting one hurt the other. They were each other’s greatest strength and worst weakness. You also had read up on vampire history, learning a bit more about your current nap buddy. Speaking of, you were also fairly sure Bucky had fallen asleep against you, not that you minded much. You realized this morning he must not have fed in a while, and he must be drained. You absentmindedly started thinking of how to bring up the subject of feeding to him.

A sharp crash in the other room had both of you jumping to your feet. You must have dozed off, the book you were reading was on the ground, and your hair mused. Sharing a look, the two of you rushed to the sound, keeping pressed to the walls.

A Council Member, Jack Rollins, stood there, a dagger pressed against Maria’s throat. You froze in the doorway, just out of sight, pressing your hand against Bucky, pushing him back through the door. Rollins was surrounded by the Coven, each with eyes burning straight into the man before them. Tony had his fangs bared, Sam and Steve beside him, fangs also bared, eyes red. Maria herself looked almost bored, rolling her eyes at the man’s threats, despite the blade against her throat.

“This isn’t that difficult, just give us the girl and her little Leech and we can get this over with. She’s a traitor who worked with bloodsuckers to kill the Mountain Coven, last chance. Turn her in.” He warned, a sick smile on his face as the dagger dug into Maria’s throat, making her whimper softly as the knife dug deeper, a trickle of blood dripping down her neck.

“She’s not here, just leave Maria alone!” Wanda’s eyes glowed red, hands swirling in burgundy, the Coven beside her, each witch faintly glowing in power, standing their ground.

“It’s either her or this little witch,” the man snarled, taking a step back and dragging Maria by her hair.

“Stay here, please,” you begged Bucky.

He gave you a glare, whisper yelling a response. “Fuck no, I can’t just-“

“Bucky, please. They’ll need you to figure out the memories, I can handle him.” You insisted, eyes boring into him, pleading for him to understand.

He finally nodded, albeit, hesitantly. “Please stay safe, Little Witch,” he murmured, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The air was tense, his face only centimeters away from yours, and if Maria wasn’t about to get her throat slit in the other room, you would probably have had enough guts to kiss him. And yet, Maria needed you. Your Coven needed you.

Taking a step into the room, you let your electricity crawl up your spine, down your palms, the sparks gathering everyone’s attention. “Hey asshole, I’m right here. Let her go and get out of my house.” The sparks turned hot blue, your eyes most likely reflected the same color.

He simply laughed, tugging Maria against his chest as a human shield. “Where’s your little Blood Sucker? Got rid of you that easy? Eh, whatever, doesn’t matter. Let’s go, Natural.”

You swallowed against the bile in your throat. Him saying that out loud send a wave of anxiety through your body. “Let. Her. Go.” You countered.

He tossed a pair of cuffs at you, and you caught them easily, making sure they didn’t fall to the ground. “Wear those first.”

“Cuffs? Kinky, but I’m seriously not interested in you like that. Sorry, Darlin’”

“They’re power dampeners. Either put them on and come with me, or witchy savior here will be a reenactment of the Red Wedding,” he responded, growing frustrated.

Seeing no choice, and pointedly ignoring your sisters, you put the cuffs on, the sparks from your body dying out with a fizzle. Your coven had protected you since you were little, it was time to take responsibility. It was time to protect them. It was an easy decision really, you would die for your sisters without a second thought. “All cuffed up, my safe word is Pumpernickle. Now, let my sister go.”

He simply replied with a wicked smirk, the silver dagger moving away from Maria as he tossed her aside. Rough calloused hands grabbed onto you, the knife now lodged against your throat. “Sorry, not into knife play, darlin’” you snarled, squirming in his grip.

“God, do you ever shut up?!” He scowled, clearly getting more agitated.

“Nope, and you didn’t bring a gag so you're out of luck!” You ignored the faint burn of the dagger as it turned into your neck.

“Hush, unless you want your coven to know what the inside of your throat looks like,” he growled into your ear, fear shooting through your body. Nat took a step forward, gripping her own knives. “Take another step and she won’t be the only witch I kill tonight,” he warned. “Let’s go, fight and I’ll just pick one of them,” he nodded towards the vampires. He dragged you backward and at the last moment, Natasha took another careful step forward.

Time seemed to slow as you watched in horror. Rollins threw the knife, with absolute precision. It hurled towards Natasha, and yet a blur intersected its path towards its target. Bucky fell to the ground, the silver dagger buried in his chest, graphite grey veins and skin starting to grow outwards from the wound. Silver could kill vampires.

You cried out, a feral screech clawing from your throat as you let your emotions consume you. Electricity crackled, and you abruptly realized the cuffs around your wrists were broken and smoking on the ground at your feet. Agony shot through your chest as you leaped forward, kneeling beside Bucky.

“No, no, no, no. Why would you do that, you absolute idiot!” You cried out, tugging him into your body protectively, your hands struggling to find purchase near the blade. His own body was unaffected by the electricity sparking in your hands as you lost control. Vampires didn’t bleed, but they could turn ashen and die. And as Bucky started to turn grey, his veins turning lead, you realized this could be it. He would die trying to protect your Coven from the people who took you from him in the first place.

“I know what it’s like to lose family, y/n…” He gulped faintly, words starting to slur as he pulled the dagger out, tossing it aside. “Losing your Coven would devastate you. I couldn’t let you live like that.” He tenderly pushed a curl of hair behind your ear before running his thumb across your cheekbone.

Your vision blurred, practically sobbing as you held his hand closer to your face. “But I can’t lose you when we just found each other again. James, please,” you pleaded, your hands starting to tremble. Agonizing anguish started to fill your chest, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You tried to keep calm, tried to think of ways to fix this.

“You always were the stronger one, Theo. I promised to keep you safe, and yet you protected yourself. You’re strong, Little Witch. You’ll move on just fine without me,” His voice was getting weaker, and you were vaguely aware of Nat trying to calm you with her powers from across the room, and the fact that where Rollins was standing there was only a pile of ash and scorch marks on the carpet.

“But I don’t want to. Bucky, please,” you pleaded, hot wet tears streaming your cheeks. “Not without you.” You were most definitely shaking now, grief clouding your mind. “I haven’t told you that I’m falling in love with you. This lifetime, right here, right now. My goofy and mischievous, tenderhearted vampire.” You murmured, his cool hand pressed against your cheek. The words echoed in your ears. Vampire. “James?”

Your voice was meek, and his hand twitched, weak in your arms as he replied. “Yes, Little Witch?”

“Fed from me,” you whispered.

“I can’t use you like that…” he groaned softly, the grey veins climbing his neck. “I might not be able to stop, Y/n,” he warned.

You nodded, sniffling softly. “I trust you, Bucky. The ultimate trust, right? I trust you to stop, and even if you don’t…” The words were unspoken but were understood between the two of you. ‘I would die for you.’

“Okay, Sweetling,” he conceded, body too weak to fight your stubbornness.

You raised your wrist to his mouth, “All yours, Angel Eyes,” you whispered softly. He kissed your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine. For a starving and dying vampire, he showed an immense amount of restraint and control. The artery in his neck turned light grey, the strain shown in his features. You glanced at your coven sisters, all of which were showing a variety of reactions. Mostly surprise you would do this, but Nat and you locked eyes. She could always feel your emotions the best out of the entire coven, and now all she felt was desperation and hope, yet she also felt an unspoken emotion. Love.

Looking back down at Bucky as he bared his fangs, he looked up at you before sinking them into your wrist, his vampire instincts taking over as he slowly drank from your lifeline. The coloring returned to his face, grey lines and skin disappearing completely. But he kept drinking, practically growling into your arm as his eyes flashed red before closing them, concentrated in what he was doing. You ran your free hand through his hair weakly as black spots filled your vision. “I love you, Bucky,” you murmured incoherently just as the black abyss pulled you into unconsciousness. An overwhelming sense of calm filling you.

---

Soft, enchanting humming pulled you into the world of the living. The velvet cushioning of your favorite blanket was wrapped around you, a cool arm draped across your waist, your face pressed into a chilled body. Even groggy you realized exactly who it was, and you didn’t hesitate to nuzzle deeper into his arms.

“James,” you murmured, your voice sounded raspy, wrecked. You most unquestionably noticed the satisfying feeling in your chest, as if being wrapped in his arms was the only place on Earth you belonged in.

“I’m sorry, Little Witch. I should have stopped sooner,” he whispered softly. You noticed he was playing with the ends of your hair, twirling the curls around his finger.

“I told you,” you managed to speak in a small voice, “I trusted you to stop. Even if you didn’t, I made that choice.”

He chuckled faintly, “Thought Tony was going to murder me, definitely looked ready to. Natasha stopped him, said you felt at peace.” He sighed as he pulled away gently, tilting your chin up to lock eyes with him. You absentmindedly noticed you were alone in your room, laying on top of the covers of your bed, contentedly cuddled close. “You were ready to die to save me.”

“You were dying to save my Coven sister.” You let your eyes close as you leaned against his touch, your own hands pressed against his chest. “I would blame it on my emotions, but I would do it again without hesitation.” You smiled faintly into his touch, kissing his palm that rested against your cheek. “My Angel Eyes.”

Your eyes fluttered open, everything felt at ease with him here. You caught him glancing down at your lips, making your smile widen. “Bucky?” He hummed in response as you leaned your forehead against his. “Please kiss me.”

His responding smile set your heart on fire. “As you wish, Sweetling,” he murmured, closing the distance and kissing you. He held your face in his hands tenderly, his own soft lips perfectly slotting against your own. You leaned forward as you deepened the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He groaned softly in response, pushing forward as he took control of the kiss, which sent a warm spark down your spine. His breathing hitched, and beneath your fingertips, you felt a small thump. You both froze, eyes widening as you pulled away.

“Did… Did your heart just beat?” you murmured softly, trying not to notice how his lips were starting to get kiss swollen.

He nodded, eyes just as wide as yours. “I thought I imagined that.”

You shook your head, the words of one of the Binding books coming back to you. “Bound are each other’s strengths and weaknesses. A heartbeat is a weakness for a vamp.” You tried to reason.

He chuckled, “And here I thought I was going to reason that you’re my life and found your way back to me.”

Blushing, you couldn’t stop the smile from lighting up your features. You also finally realized you were all alone, the house quiet. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours. Everyone went to Pepper’s house. Wanda said something about giving us space.” He shrugged, still busy thinking about the implications of a heartbeat. Was he becoming alive again?

“Hey, Bucky?” You whispered softly.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.” He obliged, closing the distance to kiss you again. He was the one to deepen the kiss first, gentle yet dominating, demanding your full attention. You got lost in his touch, pressed against him as his hand around your waist pulled you tighter against him. “James,” you practically purred against his lips.

He groaned softly, smirking. “I love it when you say my name.” His lips brushed against yours, easily pulling your mouth back on his.

“Then I’ll keep saying it, Angel Eyes,” you murmured, pulling far enough off of him to run a hand through his fluffed up and mused hair. He groaned softly, making you grin as you lightly traced your fingertips against his scalp. “I want to remember, Bucky. Help me remember and I help you remember? All of it? From the beginning? I know a witch from another Coven who can help us.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, lips brushing past yours as he nodded. “All of it, Sweetling. From the beginning. And Theo?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

--

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland  / @lumar014 / @maniacproffesor / @gollyderek / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @avengerstones / @momc95 / @loving-life-my-way / @thelibraryoffanfiction / @marvelmaree / @thefridgeismybestie

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx / @thedancingnerdmermaid / @mood-pancakes / @gracethegeek9902 / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @sunkissedbarnes / @annavega333

Blood Bound Tags:

@itz-kira / @rinthehufflepuff​ / @evilzinblr​ / @starkrobb​ / @paranoiadestroyah​ / @misplacedorphan​ / @ladysergeantbarnes​ / @gobemywonderwall​ / @yallneedtrek / momobaby227

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3