#// she canonically can lift red ; stay planted while he uses his powers ; AND run with him on her shoulders!!

[fatedefyd]

   mei is built like pvt. vasquez from Aliens, no i do not make the rules, it is simply the law--

[magicianapprenticelyra]

Day 7: Free Day!

@sweetalnazar

Featuring Lyra Nguyen and Asra Alnazar; Canon Timeline

(Established Relationship)

CW: Some suggestive scenes, but it’s not explicit.

Four to five years later . . .

After everything is finally put into place, the would-be newlyweds are taken out of their respective dressing rooms. Their families watched as the couple were brought close together, just a few feet apart. Their hands are firmly planted over their own faces; Asra shifts his weight from one foot to another as Lyra bounces on the balls of her feet.

“CAN WE PLEASE LOOK AT EACH OTHER NOW?!” Lyra demands, voice muffled from behind her palms.

There’s warm laughter all around, especially as Lyra’s bouncing soon becomes her impatiently stamping her feet.

“You may!” Nadia replies with a radiant smile.

Together, Asra and Lyra countdown from three. At one, Portia passes Lyra’s glasses over to her, quickly getting out of the bride’s line of sight as Lyra places them over her eyes. In turn, her partner draws his hands together, palm to palm. He slides them down the front of his face, just stopping before his fingertips touch the end of his nose.

They lock eyes. Asra looks like someone who's had the air pulled from his chest, as if he can't remember to breathe. Lyra’s knees buckle under her, arms flailing as she catches herself before hitting the ground.

“Oh look at you!” Lyra exclaims, immediately springing up onto her feet. She pulls Asra into a delighted hug, promptly swinging him around in a circle. The skirts of their dresses billow out from the motion, their peals of laughter echoing in the Palace’s halls.

Before Lyra can get too dizzy and drop her spouse-to-be, she manages to stop. She sets Asra back down, swaying a bit. Before Lyra can fall over for real, Asra catches her, pulling her upright.

They can’t stay in the Palace for long: the ceremony is taking place at The Shop!

Nadia and Portia usher the pair into a carriage outside. In turn, the rest of the attendees get into similar transportation.

O*O*O

Praetor Vlastomil is running a bit late. This isn’t a bad thing, for it gives everyone a chance to catch up. Aisha and Salim are trading stories with Bảo, Walterine and James; Neha is chatting with Portia, with the latter helping Neha adjust the flowers in her hair.

“I’m sorry that the Praetor continues to be unreliable,” Nadia murmurs. She’s with Asra and Lyra, the three of them just a ways away from everyone else.

“He at least had the mind to let us know he was running late,” Lyra replies. Her veil is over her face, shielding her from passersby that shout their congratulations every so often. Her eyes are drawn to Asra. He’s drawn her veil over his face, resting the side of his head against her shoulder. His eyes are closed, the picture of sleep.

“I’m envious that he can fall asleep so easily,” Lyra murmurs.

Nadia chuckles. “Depending on how it goes tonight for the both of you, you’ll probably be able to fall asleep easily enough.”

Lyra blushes, averting her gaze. Her abrupt movement makes the edge of her veil tickle over Asra’s nose, making him sneeze and waking him up.

“Mm?” he mumbles, rubbing his nose with his knuckles.

“Sorry my love.” Lyra adjusts her veil as he shifts out from under it. “How was your sleep?”

“Decent,” Asra yawns, sitting up to stretch. “Any sign of the Praetor?”

“Well—”

Worm! Faust declares.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Lyra looks down to the flower basket between her and her partner’s feet.

Their familiars are waiting patiently for their time to shine. Faust was curled up in the basket of flowers. The basket itself was etched with some glyphs. Once the magic in them was activated, the basket would float. This would allow Faust to grab flowers—and their petals—with her mouth. The morph gets to fling them wherever she pleases.

Nook, Lyra’s book-shaped mimic of a familiar, is their ring bearer for the occasion. He’s in charge of a tinier basket. Nook would need to keep the longer handle of said basket between his teeth to keep pace with Faust’s floating one.

Inside the tiny basket were two paper flowers, one set in a corsage-like arrangement while the other is attached to a hairpin. Lyra had painstakingly assembled them while Asra painted them. The corsage had the red lotus, and the pin was adorned by the purple flower of the belladonna.

Respectively, they’re Lyra and Asra’s favorite flowers. Tucked safely in the center of each flower is their partner’s ring. When the time comes, the lotus corsage would be wrapped over Lyra’s wrist, and the belladonna neatly pinned behind Asra’s ear. Afterward, the rings would go to the appropriate finger of their partner’s hand.

In the meantime however, the newlyweds-to-be watch Faust slowly raise herself from her little bed of flowers, repeating, Worm!

Lyra and Asra look at each other, confused.

Nook’s eyes snap open. His four sea green eyes shift toward the right. Nook raises himself onto his tarantula-esque feet, baring his sharp teeth as he growls.

“Nook, what’s the matter?” Lyra squeaks, startled by the sudden menace overcoming her familiar.

Nadia looks toward the direction of Nook’s line of sight, immediately getting to her feet.

“Oh no.” The disgust in the Countess’s voice is palatable. Asra and Lyra blink at her, bewildered, until they see what she means.

The Praetor had brought one of his worms with him.

O*O*O

A temporary, ramshackle pen is made off to the side of The Shop in order to contain Wriggler. The servants that came with Vlastomil are very, very apologetic in expression to the more unimpressed members of the wedding party.

“Do you suppose it’s going to hold?” Salim murmurs to James, eyeing the creaky posts that were slapdashed together.

“Gods willin’ an’ we don’t have to deal wit’ anyone gettin’ bit or The Shop getting destroyed,” the latter replies in kind, their gazes drifting to their respective spouses.

Aisha is taking all of it in, bemused. Walterine and Bảo, on the other hand, are fuming beside the Countess. Nadia is giving a quiet but adamant final warning to the Praetor that if Wriggler ever shows up to another one of these ceremonial obligations again, she’d have Vlastomil replaced post-haste.

As all that is going on, Asra, Neha, Portia, and Lyra are all staring at the gigantic worm—with teeth!—in awe.

Lyra supports Nook with one forearm under him, having his backside pressed against the front of her dress. With her free hand, Lyra has it gently clasped over Nook’s mouth. That doesn’t stop Nook from growling at Wriggler, but the precaution is there. Asra holds the basket Faust is coiled up in, the latter peering nervously over the rim of it at Wriggler. 

“She’s gotten bigger since the last time I saw her—” Asra laughs as the three around him stare in abject horror.

“That worm can get bigger?!” Neha whispers loudly, incredulous.

At this point, all Lyra can do is shrug. Before anyone can say anything else, Praetor Vlastomil calls for Asra, Lyra, and their immediate families to come and step to the spots they’re going to be at.

“I don’t have all day! I have my precious Wriggler and the rest of my worms to attend to!”

“Are you ready?” Lyra asks, looking at the familiar in her arms. Nook blinks at her, his mouth curling into a grin. “Alright. Get the basket and we’ll take our places. No trying to bite Wriggler, okay?”

On it! Nook replies. Once Lyra sets him down, Nook rushes to get his basket. Some onlookers jump out of the way as he zooms past them, making Lyra laugh.

Asra waves his hands over the glyphs on Faust’s basket, murmuring the words to activate them. As Faust is lifted by the magic basket, a loud WHEE! echoing in their heads.

Lyra stands beside Asra, offering her arm out for him to hold. Asra graciously loops his arm with hers. Their expressions are mirroring each other: just a little shy, but full of adoration for their partner.

“Ready when you are, Faust!” Neha calls from off the side of the Praetor.

When Nook finally takes his place beside the morph, she commands the basket:

Forward!

O*O*O

“ . . . and by the power vested in me by the city-state of Vesuvia, I pronounce you married.” Vlastomil barely gets the words you may now—with a disgusted scoff—kiss your partner, before Asra and Lyra grab at each other.

With her veil no longer separating her lips from her spouse's own, Lyra dips him into a deep kiss. As Asra goes completely slack in her arms, Lyra wraps her arms securely around him.

Cheers and applause from their friends, loved ones, neighbors, and onlookers alike echo into the neighborhood. Bells are shaken wildly and horns are blown. Confetti and rice are thrown into the air, scattering about the ground and carried away by the wind.

She’s the one that pulls back from the kiss first. Upon seeing her partner’s face, Lyra can’t help but laugh. Asra has the most blissful expression, and she’s sure that he’s floating.

She attempts to right Asra onto his feet, but he is, indeed literally, floating off of the ground.

“Do I need to hang onto you?” Lyra asks.

“Just for a short while,” Asra replies breathlessly, eyes soft and adoring. Lyra chuckles. She acts as his anchor, having an arm wrapped behind his waist and a hand clasped with his. They turn to look on at their friends and family, now being greeted as a newly wedded couple.

O*O*O

After Wriggler and the Praetor are gone, the festivities go into full swing. Asra’s feet eventually return to the ground, but he’s still on the high of being married to the love of his life.

Nadia has to leave to return to her duties as Countess, but she wishes them well.

“Say hi to Julian for us!” Lyra bids her.

“I’ll extend your regards!” With that, a carriage whisks the Countess away.

In the meantime, the pair grab plates of food for each other, ducking past the threshold of The Shop and seeing all the tables set around so their guests could sit, eat, and mingle. Their place of honor is where the glass case counter used to be. It’s pushed back against the shelving, which is boarded up to prevent any inventory from falling out and onto the floor.

It couldn’t have gone any better.

O*O*O

As the day passes into evening, and well into the night, the guests begin to file out of The Shop. Asra and Lyra’s parents and parental figures help them to clean up the mess. James, Bảo, Salim and Walterine get the glass counter back to where it was, with Neha and Lyra quickly sweeping the floor beforehand.

Nook gets to eat whatever scraps he finds. He’s currently hidden in a corner, eating his fill as Faust snoozes in her basket.

As the table runner is placed over the display case, Walt says with a grin, “And that’s it!”

“Oh thank goodness—” Lyra leans against the top of it, slumping over from exhaustion. Asra gently pats her shoulder, garnering a few laughs.

“Before we go, Habibi,” Aisha says, coming forward, “I’d like to say a blessing.”

Lyra immediately straightens up, looking to Asra for guidance. He holds her hand, giving her a reassuring nod.

Aisha stands before the two of them. She first speaks in Zadithi, and then says in Vesuvian, “May Allah grant you blessings, send blessings upon you, and bring you together in goodness.”

“Oh, Mom—!” Asra hugs her, and Lyra follows suit. She looks ready to cry, as well as everyone else in the room.

Lyra’s eyes drift to her uncle Bảo. He’s very, very nervous.

“Bảo? What’s on your mind?” Lyra asks.

“I, uh . . .” he rubs the side of his neck, looking sheepish. “I hope this not redundant—”

With some additional encouragement from his own spouses, Bảo steps forward. “I-I have a blessing of my own. You won’t know or remember it, but I hope it mean a lot all the same.”

Bảo clears his throat, saying, “Chúc hai bạn hạnh phúc trọn đời. It means to ‘wish you both a lifetime of happiness’.”

He is not prepared for when Lyra and Asra rush him with hugs. Bảo and the others outright fall into laughter as the newlyweds lift him up in their shared embrace.

“You get pass today because it your wedding!” Bảo exclaims, legs kicking in the air until he’s set down. He’s still smiling all the same, tears brimming in his eyes.

They all join together for one final group hug. Asra and Lyra see them out the door, waving and saying their goodbyes. After making sure the front lamp is out, Lyra locks the door.

Asra hugs her from behind, nuzzling her nape. “Mm . . . you should wear backless things more often,” he teases, pressing a kiss to her exposed neck and shoulder. Lyra shivers, leaning back into his warmth.

“What, so you could decorate me with kisses there?”

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” Lyra can feel the mischievous glint in his eye, especially when he starts to mouth over her other shoulder. Before his teeth could graze over anymore of her skin, there’s a knock at the back door.

“It’s Muriel!” Lyra wiggles out of her spouse’s hold, laughing softly as a soft whine passes from his lips.

Upon opening the door, the two of them see that Muriel’s wrapped up in his massive cloak, his head and part of his face covered as usual. However, the collar and manacles he bore for so long are now a distant memory. None of them know exactly when Muriel’s gift of being forgotten stopped working, but it wasn’t long after the Alnazars and Aster-Nguyen families started getting more and more involved in and around his life.

“Hey Muri,” Lyra greets, smiling softly. “We saved some food for you and Inanna. Lemme grab the basket.” She ducks away to do that, allowing Asra and Muriel to catch up for a bit.

“Our parents were asking for you,” Asra murmurs.

“They know I don’t like crowds. Or people,” Muriel replies in kind.

“They know; Mom and Dad are still going to invite you for lunch or dinner at their place. It’s the same with Lyra’s parents too.”

“. . . they don’t have to.”

“They want to—”

“They want to!” Lyra echoes Asra, returning with the basket. She holds it out to Muriel with a smile “Here it is. We made some lemon squares for you too.”

Muriel sighs, exasperated. Still, he accepts the basket of food.

“We can’t thank you enough for the rings, Muri,” Asra says. He and Lyra hold up their hands, the wooden rings shining in the moonlight. “They fit perfectly.”

Muriel’s smile graces his face. Upon seeing their delighted smiles in turn, Muriel flushes. “It-it’s no big deal. Congratulations. Bye.” With that, Muriel trundles off into the darkness, heading back to the forest.

Lyra closes the door, shaking her head. “One of these days we’re gonna get him to come to dinner with us and our parents.”

“Give him time. He’ll come around.” Asra stretches, languidly leaning his front against his spouse.

Lyra chuckles, angling her body so that Asra can have his arms around her shoulders. She leans back against the wall behind her, shivering as the stone chills her exposed upper back.

“Mmm . . .” Asra tucks his face into the crook of her neck.

“You okay?” Lyra asks, angling her head so that her cheek could settle against the side of his face.

“Yeah. Tired . . .”

Lyra quietly tuts, nuzzling him. She kisses his temple, murmuring, “Sounds like bedtime.”

Asra snorts, leaning back so he can bat his eyes at her. His white eyelashes flutter enticingly, but Lyra’s resolute.

“We have the morning, my love,” Lyra counters, laughing as Asra pouts. She stands up and away from the wall. She remains steady when Asra wraps his legs around her waist, locking his ankles behind her lower back. 

Lyra reinforces her hold on him with her hands against the underside of his thighs. She makes a beeline for the stairs, ascending them carefully with her precious cargo in her arms.

“We’ve been up all day and I am sure you just want to flop into bed—”

“—with you—!” Asra protests. When a yawn betrays him, Asra nuzzles into the side of Lyra’s neck.

She chuckles. “All right all right,” she relents, pausing midway up the stairs.

Lyra leans back a bit, allowing Asra to untuck himself from her neck. Their foreheads touch, their lips gently brushing against each other as Lyra deftly makes her way up the rest of the stairs.

A/N: Final Word Count: 2,800+ words

This is were I found the blessing Aisha says to Asra and Lyra [LINK]. I apologize ahead of time if I misrepresented any part of that.

Happy belated birthday to Asra and Faust! I’m glad I took the extra day to get this finalized. I loved writing every bit of it.

Thanks again for sweetalnazar and the rest of the participants for making this event possible and enjoyable! Have a good day/night!

[Asra’s design is from his official Wedding Charm design from Nix Hydra, and Lyra’s wedding charm art is done by @agent-darkbootie​]

[ghostxofxartemis]

Prologue of my Fanfic Complete.

I’m just too excited, I want to share. I’m hoping to get an invitation to Archives tomorrow to post the First chapter, as I just completed it. But I don’t want to give too much right away! But here’s my complete prologue! 

Author’s notes: Hi everyone, welcome to my first fanfiction for Mass Effect, my all time favourite game! My canon Shepard, is default Shepard, Earth Born, War Hero, infiltrator class, paragon with a few renegade options, like kicking the merc out the window in Ilium and killing Kai Leng with that renegade button quick for Thane. Chose to destroy the reapers, and survived. He also romanced Ashley, and I wanted to delve into their story a bit more. However, most of the story will revolve around their daughter, 25 years later. I believe Shepard’s story is done. But that doesn’t mean that another Shepard can’t come and continue his legacy. Everyone survived except for Mordin while dispancering the genophage cure, Thane while chasing Kai Leng, Legion and EDI. However, EDI will be back (I can’t kill her off completely!) 

Another note, I always preferred to write in first person. I know it technically goes against all rules of writing, but I will be switching from John Shepard’s and Alex Shepard’s Point of view.

Also still brainstorming Titles.

Prologue

“The war is over. The Reapers have been defeated. 

Against all odds, and in the face of the greatest threat this galaxy has ever known, we survived. 

We suffered many losses. The relays are severely damaged, but we won. 

This victory belongs to each of us... every man, woman, and child. Every civilization, on every world. Now, as we take our first steps toward restoring what we lost, we must remember what it took to win. This wasn't a victory by a single fleet, a single army, or even a single species.

If this war has taught us anything, it is that we are at our strongest when we work together. And if we can put down our grievances long enough to stop something as powerful as the Reapers, imagine what we can achieve now that they are defeated. 

It will take time, but we can rebuild everything that was destroyed.

Our homes, our worlds, our fleets and defenses. All of this - and more. 

Together, we can build a future greater than any one of us could imagine.

A future paid for by the sacrifices of those who fought and died alongside us.

A future that many will never see. 

And while we still have many challenges ahead of us... We can face them together. 

And we will honor those who died to give us that future.”

Gasp. My lungs filled with air, I felt pain, everywhere. In all my years in my career, all those shots I’ve endured couldn’t compare to this. All I saw was rubble. Did it work? Did the crucible fire? Or did I just imagine that? “Shepard!” “Shepard, where are you?! Come on Commander?!” “Shepard?!” I recognized those voices. Samara, Jack, Miranda? But they were on the other side of the battlefield. I tried to move, but movement shot pain all over my body again and I saw stars in my vision. I was on the verge of slipping in unconsciousness. I knew if I did, I may never wake up again. All my medigel was dispensed during the final push, I had to stay awake until someone found me at least. Then they can take care of the rest. I tried again, slowly this time, I moved my head around, looking for something that could alert them where I am. I shot the tube didn’t I? Back at the crucible? Think Shepard, your pistol must be around! With great effort I started to feel around me, God this rubble is heavy!  There! I felt the pistol. I aimed in the sky and prayed there were still a couple shots left in the thermal clip. I squeeze the trigger. Bam Bam. Two shots that's it, I hear the empty click. They should have heard that, they must be closed otherwise I wouldn’t have heard them. 

“Get down!” “They’re not shooting at us.” “It’s Shepard!” 

“Shepard, stay with me, we got you, we’ll get you medic” Miranda’s face appeared in my vision as she spoke, her omnitool bright orange, I started to feel light headed but my pain was slowly diminishing, for now. How much medigel did she give me?! Oh, why does it matter, she knows what she is doing, she put me back together after all!  “MEDIC, OVER HERE! IT’S SHEPARD!” I heard Jack yell, before my vision went black. 

“Stay with me Shepard!” Miranda again, I was on a gurney, they were running with the medics, Miranda had her omnitool at the ready. Looked like she was scanning the damage, her face, didn’t look right...worried? “Miranda…Ashley?” I tried to reach for her. “Shh, save your energy. Just stay with me okay, you’ll be okay! The Normandy made it out on time, you did it Shepard” I didn’t know whether she was telling the truth about me making it, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that Ashley and my crew...my friends, were safe. All went dark. 

I woke up again, who knows how long I have been out, and heard beeping noise around me. I searched my surroundings, and noticed a heart rate monitor, tubes in my arms. I’m in a hospital, still alive, well at least I think so? Miranda’s face appeared in my vision, as well as someone else, don’t know who they are though. “Hey Shepard, you got some broken ribs, your left arm is broken, we’re keeping you under a coma for you to recover faster. But you’re going to make a full recovery.” I heard Miranda say to me before she turned around to the other man in the room and said “give him a dose, a bigger one this time, trust me he’ll be fine.” I couldn’t help but chuckle and I saw Miranda’s lip quirk up, I knew she got the same sense of deja vu: the first time I woke up in the Cerberus lab when she rebuilt me. But I knew I was going to be fine, after all Miranda would know best. All went dark again.

I woke up again, and I heard some rustling beside me, and I hand touched mine. “Hey Hero-Man, glad to see you finally awake.” I didn’t need to see who it was, because I would recognize her voice anywhere. A smile spread on my face, I never felt so much joy in my lifetime. Ashley was okay, and she was here beside me! I turned to face her, and tried to speak, but it almost felt like I had no voice. “Shh, shh, you’ve been out a while, just take it slow Skipper.” I had to say this though, and I squeezed her hand, cleared my throat, and with pure will I muttered a raspy “I love you,” she smiled and said “I know” and I fell asleep again. 

The next time I woke up, I felt much better. I couldn’t say how much time had passed, I figured maybe about a few days. Next to me Ashley had fallen asleep, she had her head on the bed all the while sitting in the chair she pulled up. I gently ran my fingers in her hair, and I felt her stir under my touch. “Hey pretty lady” I whispered, “Hey” she said back at me as she slowly lifted her head off the bed “You’re awake”. “Just woke up myself. How long have I been out?” I asked her. “Hmm, just about a month now, Miranda’s been looking after you until we could get the Normandy fully functioning again and back into orbit. We got back to Earth as soon as we could and got here. Dr. Chawkas took over your care after that” she replied. A month?! I took a moment to process that, I thought I had been out a few days, but a month?!  I was in shock. Normandy fully functioning? What the hell happened?! “Ash...what happened? After I got to the crucible? What happened?” I reached for her hand and squeezed it. I needed to know what happened after everything went dark. “The crucible shot red beams of light, and all synthetic, the Geth, Edi, even the Reapers, they all went dead. The Normandy was hit, we sustained a bit of damage before hitting the relay, we landed on an uncharted world. The crew worked all together to get the Normandy back up. Took us about 3 days, and then 2 weeks to get back to earth. But you did it Shepard - you destroyed the Reapers, the war is done. But there’s one more thing… Admiral Anderson..” she started saying, I nodded my head “I know, I was with him.” “I’m so sorry Skipper” for the first time ever, I saw a tear run down Ashley’s cheek. Throughout everything, Kaidan’s death, even when she was in the hospital and waiting for news on her family, Ashley Williams never cried, and here she was shedding a tear. I took my free hand and placed it behind her neck and brought her forehead to my lips and planted a kiss, and I held her there. She pulled away, and whipped her tears, “I should get Dr. Chawkas, I’ll be right back,” she stood up and walked out the door to get Dr. Chawkas, and I leaned back into the bed and sighed. I felt relieved that the Reapers were truly destroyed. But cords pulled on my heart. Edi had truly died. I was supposed to be dead. I had hoped that the catalyst had lied, but it hadn’t. Now Joker had lost the love of his life. 

I heard the door whoosh open again and turned my head in it’s direction, Dr. Chawkas looked at me, a smile spreading ear to ear, and behind her was Miranda. I could see Ashley talking to Admiral Hackett and James leaning up against the wall. I guess I could expect a huge welcoming party after speaking to Dr. Chawkas and Miranda. I was pretty sure there were others there that I couldn’t see. “Glad to see you awake Commander. You’re looking a lot better. I’m just going to run some scans here. I have to say, I’m impressed with Miranda’s medical skills, it was touch and go there for a while” she was saying as she lit up her omni-tool to do her scans. 

“Well, if anyone would know my body inside and out, it would be her, it wouldn’t be the first time either” I chuckle, and heard Dr. Chawkas chuckle as well, while I swear, Miranda’s cheeks turned beet red. “I suppose you're right. Scans look commander, you’re healing well. You should be good to go to physical therapy in a few days. But first we should probably get you some food,” she cocked her head in the direction of my stomach, as it made a growl, I swear everyone in the next system heard. “I’ll go get you something to eat, in the meantime Admiral Hackett would like to speak to you,” she turned on her heels and made her way out the door only to stop to speak quickly to Admiral Hackett “he’s all good Admiral, ready to see you” she nodded and Hackett give her a nod back “thank you Dr.” and made his way towards me. “Shepard, I don’t still don’t know how you pulled that off. That wasn’t short of any miracle” he reached out with a hand and I took in my own to give him a hand shake. “I don’t really know what really happened myself, tell you the truth Admiral” I replied. He pulled his hand back and clasped them behind his back, taking on his usual casual stance. “Tell me what you remember.” 

“I don’t know where to start Admiral. I reached the beam, and landed somewhere in the Citadel. Somewhere I’ve never been before. They were collecting human remains, and looked like they were gathering them to make another Reaper, maybe. I don’t know.” I pause to sigh and bring my thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of my nose for a moment, deep in thought. When I pulled my hand away again, I recollected myself to continue my debrief. “I made my way to the control panel, and Anderson had already reached it. He was trying to open to the Citadel arms. But the Illusive man was controlling him, stopping him from accessing the controls.” Hackett made a noise that sounded like a hmm. “So he managed to learn how to control humans, and not just husks?” he asked. “Yeah...thought he was implanted with reaper technology. He managed to get control over me as well. I tried to pull him out of his revelry, but he made me shoot Anderson, before he pulled the trigger on himself.” I sighed at the memory. I felt guilty, and it must have shown in my expression, for Hackett immediately interjected “It wasn’t your fault Shepard,” “It doesn’t make it any easier, sir”.

It must have taken me about a good 10 mins to explain everything, from the catalyst to the destruction of the Reapers. Hackett had agreed that taking control of  the Reapers would have been too much of a risk, what if down the line I would have become indoctrinated and started up another war? Rewriting human DNA is unethical. Destruction was the only way to go, even at a great cost. Peace between synthetic and humans is possible, as I had managed to prove to the galaxy with brokering peace between the geth and the Quarians. 

Hackett thanked me for the briefing and wished me a speedy recovery. I knew I would be out for a bit, but thanks to my cybernetics, it wouldn’t be as long as a normal person. Something I was grateful for, to be honest, even after everything that just happened, I still wasn’t ready to retire. 

After Hackett left, Ashley came back in followed by James, Traynor Carrying a vase full of “get well flowers”, Garrus, Liara and Cortez. “I brought you some flowers Commander, I’m glad you’re doing better commander, everyone has been worried about you” Traynor said as she placed the vase on the bedside table. “Thanks Traynor.” 

“Just couldn’t help yourself from destroying the reapers with a bang, uh Loco?” James chuckled, I just rolled my eyes at him and shook my head. No doubt I’ve just earned myself more “Loco” points. “S’cuse me” Dr. Chawkas was shimmying herself between the crew with a tray of food in her hands, and when she reached me she handed the tray and I reached out and grabbed it and placed it on my lab. I scrutinized what was on the tray, military rations albeit not being the best and tastiest of food, certainly looked more appetizing than the clump of goo that was sitting in front of me. I looked up at Dr. Chakwas, eyebrows raised in a quizzical look “what is this supposed to be?” She shrugged and her expression  turned sympathetic, no doubt not wanting to be stuck with this goo and feeling horrible about handing it over to me. “It’s supposed to be oatmeal. Something soft but not too solid yet, have to slowly introduce food into your system. You’ve been out a while Commander.” 

I picked up the spoon, scoop up a spoonful, only to purposely drop through the goo back into the plate. “I think I lost my appetite” I grumbled. “We’ll leave you to it commander” Traynor gave a sympathetic look  towards my way before gesturing to the others to do the same. Miranda lingered behind a bit “I’m glad your back Commander” and turned towards the door to follow the others out. Only Ashley remained behind. I moved myself a little closer to the edge of the bed and pat the empty spot beside me for her to sit down next to me. She was more than happy to oblige, her smile spreading across her face. She lay down and leaned her hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s not appetizing, John, but you should eat” she said. I sighed, “I know, I just didn’t want to make faces in front of everyone” I replied, and she snorted. I sighed again and took another spoonful and slowly, the food made its way down to my stomach.

The few weeks I spent in the hospital and physical therapy had been slow and excruciating. Not in the sense that my body hurt, it was mostly all healed up at this point, thanks to my upgrades. But it was the fact I was stuck there and hadn’t gotten the all clear yet to get back into the field. Ashley thought I was crazy, that I had more than earned some shore leave. But I wasn’t one to just sit around and do nothing.

I also had ceremonies to attend. I had been given more awards for my part in the war. The Normandy crew had been granted the Galactic Unit Citation for their part in helping win me this war. I had been awarded my second Star of Terra, along with the Star of Sur’Kesh, Silver Dagger, and Nova Cluster. My recognition in this war had gone with plenty of notice. 

Eventually I was given the all clear to head back and command The Normandy again. Hackett wanted the Normandy's help in patrolling  the system, making sure no one went rogue. With the government in chaos, and the Alliance in scramble right now. And with all the repairs that needed to be done to the mass relays, he wanted to make sure no pirates or mercs decided to attack anyone at random. The Normandy was to escort fleets to other systems so that we can start making the repairs on the mass relays ASAP. I was more than happy to comply. 

The welcoming I received was heartwarming. Everyone was glad to see me up on my feet again. New armor had been sent to the armory to replace the one that had been scorched in the final push. Walking up the ramp I plot our first trip to Arcturus Stream for our first escort. “You got it, Commander” was Joker’s voice coming through the speakers. I couldn’t help but smiled as I turned around and headed to the elevator up to my cabin. It was good to be back on the Normandy, and quite frankly, I was looking forward to a night alone with Ashley. 

[fericita-s]

There’s Beauty and There’s Danger Here

A new story in When All is Lost, by @the-spastic-fantastic  and me, the canon-compliant stories of Agnarr and Iduna through the years. This takes place the first day after Anna’s injury and the visit to the trolls. It is the first day of the sisters’ separation.

For the Agduna week prompt “First.” Thanks for organizing @queen-iduna-of-arendelle @legacy-from-lies!

Thanks to @the-spastic-fantastic for helping me figure this one out.

***

Iduna stroked her daughter’s hair, learning the feel of this new streak of white which was somehow coarser than the rest of her red locks. Once again, she felt at her wrist for a pulse.

Anna’s heart beat was steady.

Iduna’s was not.

Her heart had not calmed down since the terrible moment when she had seen Anna lying on the ground, Elsa nearby and panicking. Their ride to the Valley of the Living Rock, Pabbie’s healing and pronouncement and his order to keep magic a secret from Anna.  Iduna still felt as terrified now as she had during those horrible moments, clutching her daughter while standing amid the trolls, the crushing sensation that nothing would ever be the same again.

She closed her eyes and saw the scene Pabbie had cast into the air.  Elsa, tall and queenly with ice floating from her fingertips.  A vision of beauty quickly turning to danger as she was ripped apart by a teeming mass of anger and fear.

Iduna shuddered.

Agnarr had believed this warning at once. He was already telling various castle servants that their new duties would be at the academy in town or on the outlying farms owned by the crown and not inside the castle gates. He had ordered Elsa’s bed moved into a different room, her clothes and toys as well. He saw a threat and made a plan. Iduna couldn’t think beyond making sure Anna would open her eyes. The flurry of activity concerned her only in that she hoped it would wake Anna.

It had not.

Pabbie had asked if Elsa was born with the powers or cursed and Agnarr had quickly said born. But the longer that Iduna sat next to the too-still Anna, the more this felt like a curse.  What else could it be if it meant Anna’s injury and Elsa’s death? If it meant her daughters would be separated from one another? How could they be a whole family if they were forever fragmented into pieces, fractals never joining, frozen in isolation?

It seemed impossible that she had once thought Elsa’s powers were meant to free Northuldra from the mist, to bring peace between the people of her birth and the people she had learned to live with and love. Was this a curse she brought to Arendelle? Was this punishment for her people starting a battle and murdering a king?

Anna mumbled something and rolled onto her side. Iduna tensed, leaning over Anna to see if her eyelids fluttered or if she made any other signs of consciousness.  It had now been eight hours since she had clutched her baby to her chest and ridden hard for the Valley.  Another two hours past when Anna usually bounded out of bed, brushing sleep from her eyes with impatient hands, ready to explore and laugh and climb and tug on her sister’s hand, begging her to “Do the magic!”

Iduna felt tears collect in her eyes and run down her cheeks. She turned her head to wipe her face on her shoulder, not wanting to let go of Anna’s hand and Anna’s hair.

***

“Elsa, I know you didn’t mean to hurt her.  I know. We are not angry with you.” Agnarr knelt in front of Elsa in her new room, both of them exhausted, both of them unwilling to rest until they knew Anna was awake and recovered.

“But the troll leader said I have to learn to control it.  That means I’m not controlling it now.” She leaned her head into his shoulder.

Then, in a whisper, “I hurt her.”

Elsa was wringing her hands, as if she could stop the magic from coming out of them by worrying it away.

Agnarr covered her tiny hands with his. “We can learn to control it, together. Your mother and I will not let anything bad happen to you. Or Anna.”

Elsa hugged him around his neck as snow started to gently fall around them.

It was one of the last times Elsa initiated touch. Agnarr would think about that moment later and wish he had held her longer.

***

“Mama?” Anna’s voice was coarse, like she had swallowed sand. Iduna leaned over her, relief making her feel lightheaded.

“Yes, sweetheart I’m here,” Iduna said, trying to keep her fear out of her voice.  She kissed Anna’s cheek and squeezed her hands.

Anna eyelids fluttered as she slowly asked, “What happened?”

“Does your head hurt? You had quite a fall.  We were worried.” She reached under Anna’s arms to lift her into a sitting position, eager to get her to drink some water.

Anna opened her eyes and touched the place on her head where the strands had changed to white. “Elsa was there. Is she alright? Where is she?”

“Elsa’s with Kai. She has a new bedroom and they are arranging her furniture. We wanted you to have quiet while you recovered.”

“But I want to play with her. I want her in here with me.”

“Sweetheart, you need to be still and quiet today.  I know that will be difficult, but it’s important for your head to have some time to heal.” Iduna hugged Anna to her, and wondered how they could keep Anna and Elsa apart when Anna’s waking request had been for her sister.

***

“Judet, thank you for coming in.”

Agnarr had been calling in the staff all day and sending most of them to different jobs outside of the castle.  Judet had been the girls’ night nanny, a job mainly requiring her to put the girls to bed when Iduna and Agnarr were attending evening meetings, state dinners, and other various royal duties.  He hoped this would be one of the easier staff changes to make since Judet’s work at the castle had always been minimal.  Agnarr hoped she would see a change in her position as a logical decision, not such a shock or an insult like it had been for so many of their beloved servants.

Judet curtsied upon entering. “You’re welcome, Your Majesty.  Though I will tell you I know what’s about to happen.  Twenty people before me have been called in and all have left with new placements.”

“Yes, that’s true. We – “ Agnarr tried to guide her towards a seat, but she closed the door and made no move to sit.  Instead, she clasped her hands and shook her head, bowing it respectfully.

“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but you need me here in the castle. “

“What did you say?” With the events of the last day and a half- Anna’s injury, the trolls’ dire prophecies, the tears of his loyal servants, and no sleep in all that time - Agnarr was out of patience. His tone was angrier than he meant for it to sound.

“I know what the design on your coat means!”  She whispered, urgently. “And I know what Elsa can do. And if what she can do is becoming a problem, I might be able to help you.”

Agnarr dropped into the chair meant for Judet, not wanting to admit the truth of what she said. What did she mean? How could she know?

Judet waited for him to look up at her before she continued “I’m Northuldra. And that pattern is about powerful elemental magic. That’s what Elsa can do, right? Are you sending the staff away so no one will know?”

Agnarr had never felt less like a king.  Or a good father. Someone had already discovered their secret, the one that would mean Elsa’s death if not controlled. And he could not think of anything else to say, any orders to give, any plans to make.

“What . . .what do you want?”  He asked hoarsely.  Judet looked stunned for a moment and then raised her hands, a gesture of goodwill.

“Nothing, Your Majesty,” she said softly.  “Nothing other than to help.” She paused. “I really think I can help.”

He rubbed his eyes again, sleepiness making his thoughts slow.  Could she change the course of what Pabbie showed was a curse?  He took a moment to collect himself and then looked at Judet.  “Stay here,” he said quietly, contritely. “I’ll get Iduna”

***

Gerda had come in with a tray of breakfast food, shushing Anna any time she talked and demanding silence. “Rest is what you need and you can’t get that chattering.“

Her strict adherence to silence and rest was tolerated by Anna only because Gerda also kept handing her sweets to eat, and patting her on different parts of her arm, murmuring how relieved she was that Anna had woken up.

Gerda again urged Iduna from the room. “Your Majesty, please.  You need to sleep. You look nearly as tired as you did during the Rock Pox. And remember how you fared then? Go have a lie down.  Princess Anna is safe with me.”

Iduna found herself staring at the love-in-a-mist bloom that Gerda had placed on the tray, its white petals beautiful, snow-like. Iduna grew them for spice in the garden, planted in the same rows as the strawberries that were used for depressive illnesses. Planted together, they grew well, the colors of each making the row even more beautiful than either left on its own. The spice and the sweet, the white and the red. She had thought before how that row in the garden was like her two daughters. Now she looked at the lone love-in-a-mist on the tray and thought how sad it looked, how lonely.

Gerda cleared her throat and took a more commanding tone. “Your Majesty.  Go lie down.  I will stay here and make sure the Princess has everything she needs.”

Iduna nodded gratefully, kissed Anna and left, trying to calculate how long it had been since she had slept. Her hand was on the doorknob to her room when Agnarr called out from the opposite end of the hallway.

“Iduna. Please come. There’s…I need you.”

***

“You’re Northuldra? How…how did you get here?” Iduna didn’t want to say anything about the mist or the forest closing. Judet had always seemed kind and truthful, but this was a big secret to keep.  Let her explain where the Northuldra people were and why she couldn’t get to them. It seemed impossible she could really know. How could she have kept it a secret for so long?

Iduna immediately felt a wave of shame; this was a secret she had been keeping from everyone except Agnarr for almost twenty years. She could not fault Judet for staying silent.

Judet took a deep breath before she began, eyes downcast as she gripped her hands tightly together. “My brother and I were on a trading route, selling furs to the towns along the coast. It was about eighteen years ago.  We tried to get home, but there was a mist, near the stones.  We were shut out. We didn’t know why, but on our next trip to Arendelle, we heard about what you call the Northern Expedition. My brother, Dure, he asked around and learned that only you survived, Your Majesty.” She bowed her head towards Agnarr.   “And he also learned what some of the townspeople were saying about the Northuldra.  What some of them were doing.”

Iduna nodded grimly, acknowledging the truth of that. She would never forget the body in the woods, the boasts of the men who put it there.

“We traveled some more, trapped and traded, kept trying to get back in . . .but we never could. We were here again to trade during your coronation, Your Majesty, and that’s when I saw the symbols on your coat.”

Iduna raised a hand to Agnarr’s lapel, tracing the pattern. He had set it into his uniform for her, to show her she was a part of him, part of their rule together.

“It’s the elements. Wind, earth, fire, water. I know it well.  It’s a pattern of one of the oldest Northuldra families, any Northuldra would know it. And when I saw it I wanted to find out why you had it. Maybe it was just a copy of a pattern you liked, maybe it was something you stole.”

Judet looked at Iduna, her eyebrows raised, perhaps in fear. “And then I heard you sing that song to Elsa and I knew. You’re Northuldra too.”

“Why didn’t you say anything then? Why didn’t you tell me?” Iduna felt slow, like she should be able to piece together questions, but that her hands were too clumsy to do it. Sleepiness was weighing her down. Her exhaustion felt like the mist, impenetrable and hard to see through.

“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but it seemed unwise. And when I saw what Elsa could do, and how you wanted that quiet, I kept my thoughts to myself. “

Iduna had an apology on her tongue, but couldn’t quite say it. What was she sorry for exactly? For lying? For making Judet feel she had to lie?  Hadn’t she herself been lying more than half her life?

“I don’t know what happened last night, but I know Elsa’s powers have been growing.  And I think it has something to do with the elements. With Ahtohallan.”

“Ahtohallan.  The river of memory.” Iduna whispered it, a name she hadn’t heard since lullabies were sung to her as a child. “That’s what my lullaby is about.”

“Yes, and remember? Ahtohallan is the source of all magic. Ahtohallan would know where Elsa’s powers come from and why she was born with them. That could be where she controls it, learns how to use it. A gift of magic like that is very rare, but it has happened before. That’s why we have the songs. To tell us where to go and what to do.”

Agnarr placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Where is it? How do we get there?”

Judet shook her head. “I don’t know.  Just what the song says – where the north wind meets the sea.  My brother might know more, we could send for him. He travels up and down the coast this time of year.”

“We’ll send soldiers to find him. In plain clothes. We’ll bring him back and ask him what he knows. Then we can search for Ahtohallan. We can find out why Elsa has this power and how we can keep her safe.” He turned to Iduna, a fierceness burning in his eyes. “We will keep her safe.”

***

“It’s my fault, Agnarr.”

They were finally in bed, and though it had been nearly two days since they had last slept, both felt unable to submit to their exhaustion.  To quiet their churning thoughts enough to welcome the release of sleep. They lay facing each other, and at her words, Iduna leaned her head to bury it into Agnarr’s chest.

He put an arm around her to draw her closer and run his hand up and down her back, trying to calm her sobs .

“Sunny,” he murmured. “This is not your fault.  This was no one’s fault.  It was an accident.”

“But it has something to do with Northuldra. It has something to do with the magic my people could use.  I brought that here.” Her words were hard to hear; she was choking them out in whispers, gasping them in the midst of tears. It was like she was being swallowed by a wave of grief, the pounding surf carrying her whispered words away. “And Revna, that was my fault too.”

“No.”  Agnarr froze, his hand halfway down her back, the name Revna recalling loss and pain and worry in a visceral way. He immediately felt the terror he had felt the day she was born, when he thought Iduan was lost to him.  The day Revna had been born already gone.

“You heard Midwife Jora then.  That was not your fault.  Sometimes it happens, and no one can control it.”

“But the way she was – the heat, the burning – it has something to do with my people. “ She took a deep breath and drew her face back from his chest to look at him. “I have brought a curse to you. I am marked by magic and our children are too.”

Agnarr put a hand on her cheek. “Iduna, marked by magic or not, you are my wife, my family. I love you. We don’t know why this is happening. It might have to do with Northuldra, and this Ahtohallan place. But it might not. There are other places with magic and stories of magic. We will search everywhere for answers and we will save our daughters.”

Iduna pulled back and put her face in her hands, unable to accept his kindness.  Her exhaustion was giving reign to her long-suspected fear that if she had done things differently, her family might be safe now. “If I had told you the truth from the start it would have been better. If I had left Arendelle all those years ago, I would have saved you this pain. Maybe this is payment for my lies.”

Agnarr took her hands away from her face, trying to stop the tide of tears that had begun again, searching for her eyes so she would know the truth of what he was about to say. “Sunny, I love you. I can’t imagine the loneliness of life without you, without this family we have made.  You have no fault here. We will solve this, together. For our family. For Anna.  And for Elsa.”

He leaned in to kiss her, brushing his fingertips gently along her jaw and Iduna responded, half lost in the familiar taste and shape of his mouth.  The warm familiarity of his body as he gently covered her like a shield. They came together needing to feel the solid presence of each other, steadiness in this world of magic that had suddenly become so unpredictable and capricious. To remember that regardless of what came next, they were one.  To affirm that there was no curse here, only blessing in this coming together that made lovers out of friends, family out of the lonely.

And when they finally slept, entwined, and their worries came back in the form of half-fragmented dreams of what might happen and memories of what had, they curled tightly against each other, trying to shut it all out and seek the only protection they had known in their adult lives.

[bygosscarmine]

LOVE SHIFTS SHAPE

Sky High: Magenta x Ethan, post-canon

a multi-chapter reunion story, in continuity with Love, Unspoken

Magenta is dreading the reunion in a mild “I’m in a successful band that has nothing to do with my powers” sort of a way, but she looks forward to seeing the friends she’s kept up with at the party.

Then, for a second she doesn’t recognize Ethan in his adult form, and things long forgotten (like her break-up with Zach) feel all too relevant again.

Read Chapter One here.

Read Chapter Two here.

Read Chapter Three here.

Read Chapter Four here.

Chapter Five: Carpe Diem, What’s Left of It

FINAL CHAPTER!

When he opened the door, it took Magenta a second to figure out why she felt like smirking. Either in unconscious self-sabotage or a rather brilliant delaying tactic, Ethan was wearing his glasses, which looked exactly like the ones he'd had in high school. He'd taken off his jacket and hadn't unbuttoned his shirt at all, and it felt like a weird alternate time-warp with new Ethan in an old Ethan outfit.

He brushed her arm as she entered, though, and that made the present moment very clear.

"Any trouble finding the place?" he asked.

She gave him an exaggerated once-over. "I don't know, did I?"

He grinned. Inside she heard the load-screen music and sound effects looping of the FPS they not finished running before her last tour started. No, the tour before that?

No wonder she hadn't been prepared to see him. It had been about three years since she'd actually shot anything with him, over voice-chat or not. No wonder some part of her had missed him--because it wasn't just that she'd seen him, thought him a handsome stranger, then fallen for the new version. Maybe it had been happening all along--that's what Layla thought, and she could be right about stuff like that.

She planted herself in front of his television, noting the small, tidy apartment had more bookcases than other furniture. The side-table by the couch had a plant on it that had the somewhat dubious placement of something he possibly had bought on his way home this afternoon. She picked up the controller on her side, and pretended not to be eying him as he sat beside her, and scooted close enough they'd be elbowing each other once things got exciting.

"What kind of snacks we got?" Magenta asked, personalizing her character deftly.

"You just got to my house, and you take over my video games then ask about snacks?" Ethan heckled.

"If you want a girlfriend with some shame, please look elsewhere. My mother would tell you the same."

There was a pause, and Ethan turned to look at her with a sort of compassionate judgment.

"Your mother loves you," he said. "She's an unrecovered perfectionist, but you need to stop making digs at yourself using her voice."

For a moment their eyes locked. Magenta asked, "So are you a therapist now?"

"If you want a boyfriend with no emotional range, please look elsewhere."

Magenta couldn't look away, but she was not sure what to do. Ethan then continued, "And of course I got snacks. If you hadn't dived at the controller to be sure you got the better one I would have got them out already."

"I'm a terrible girlfriend and we haven't even started dating yet," said Magenta, when he produced a package of Oreos she hadn't noticed on a pile of books.

"Anything is a step up from the last six years you didn't think you were my girlfriend," said Ethan.

"Wait. I was not a terrible girlfriend just because you decided I should be your girlfriend on your own!"

"That's not what I mean," said Ethan. "More like, all the girls I tried to date were a step down from the not-girlfriend you were."

Magenta eyed him sideways while opening the Oreos packet. "You are an idiot. Also, we were friends. Were you always angling for more?"

He casually put his head on her leg, and gazed up at her. "Remember the last time this happened?"

Ethan, seventeen and getting too tall for her to pretend he was a kid brother to her, coming over after they'd somewhat patched up their relationship. Her saying, "If you were Zack, I'd tell you to get off."

Him replying, "Zack can't help it. You guys skipped from convenient prom dates to dating, he doesn't know how to be friends with you."

"What about it?" Magenta asked now, warily.

"If the only thing I get out of today is staying friends with you, then I'm good. I'd like more, same as always. But I didn't need more before, and I don't need more now. I like you, and I want to be near you. Even if you are a snacks-demanding, controller-stealing punk."

She knew what to do, now, though the steadiness of his look still shook her up a little. She ran her hand over the short hair on his head, petting him like a darling friend who needed reassurance--like a lover who was confessing pain.

"I've never been good with feelings," she said.

"Your writing would suggest otherwise."

"Writing is for the difficulty of feelings, you know."

"So is research," he said, musing.

She lifted his glasses off, and put them by the awkwardly poised plant.

"Hey, I need those to see the game," he complained.

Her fingers brushed his face. "We can play in a few minutes."

She wanted to get used to touching him, and Ethan was quiet, eyes closing as she continued to stroke his hair.

"It's totally fair that I got to become handsome after puberty," he murmured. "It's definitely not right that you went from adorable to sexy while still adorable."

"Adorable?" her most skeptical-teen voice emerged from the past to question this assertion.

His eyes opened with an intent look that made her face get a little warmer. Her belly, too.

In a very mature reaction to this feeling, she used her free hand to secretly start the round on the game, while Ethan's player was still in a default character-mode.

"Mother bitch," he yelled, hearing the intro sounds, and diving for his controller.

Magenta burst into laughter, pausing the game while he was still scrambling to get at least a better weapon selected.

He glared at her. "I just needed to check you weren't being mind-controlled by something weird but are really still Ethan," she explained. "I'm not used to this."

"Are you telling me none of your boyfriends were an improvement on Zack whatsoever?"

"I'm a demisexual woman touring with a rock band. When do you think I had other boyfriends?"

He gave her a look that she thought probably mirrored her own expression at being called adorable.

"Are you weirded out by that?" she considered hitting "start" again, but just stared down at her controller for the moment, because this was important.

"I'm trying to decide," he said, in a too-level voice, "if I am more impressed by my game or my dumb luck."

"You should try pressing your luck," she said.

"By showing you some game?"

"Sure," she breathed, eyes caught by his.

Suddenly the sound started up again on the game, and she shrieked as she turned her attention back to the screen. Ethan shoved behind her to grab his glasses and put them back on, mashing the "fire" button for good measure while he did it.

"You killed me!" she yelled, as her half of the split screen pulsed red.

"Well, I couldn't see you without my glasses on, could I?"

She started cackling as he went down, too. He set up his character before the next round properly, and they got sucked in to the game itself for almost an hour.

An alarm she'd set went off and reminded her she only had two hours to get to the airport.

Ethan, who was sprawled comfortably on the floor against his couch, glanced up but they finished playing through to the next save-point.

Then he said, "Time to go?"

"Unless you have a friend who wants to fly me over the traffic."

"Oh, I have a friend who wants to, but he's perpetually over-scheduled with the president."

Magenta snickered. She got to her feet with reluctance.

"Take the cookies for your flight," he offered.

"Wow, you are in love," she joked, picking the half-full package up all the same.

"Get used to it," he said. He'd rolled onto his stomach, and was looking up at her, chin on his hand.

"You not going to see me off, charm-boy?"

"I don't know," he said, "I'm not sure how."

She tilted her head to the side. This wasn't a flippant remark, but it wasn't exactly a question she had an answer to.

"And only a little while ago you were so impressed with your own game," she said, finally.

He laughed and got up to his feet. She turned toward the door, and smiled when he leaned on it, preventing her from turning the handle. He leaned in close, the woods-and-incense smell of his cologne a little more noticeable again.

"I don't want you to have to go already," he whispered.

"I know," she answered, voice as low.

"I just barely got to have you to myself."

"I know."

He leaned in further. The kiss this time was an exploration--long-lost lovers finding each other again. He was soft and demanding both, his fingers running under her jaw in reassurance. She slowly turned her back to the door, threaded her arms around his neck.

The soft lines of his nose played with hers as they took a breath, and she pressed back toward him because she didn't have time left to hesitate. His tongue burned hers, and she licked the fire. His palms tilted her head higher, and the kisses devolved to rapid strokes, pressed along her mouth, along her cheek until she pulled him too tight in a hug, body to body. Both drugged soft and feeling her skin tightly awake, she clung to his shoulders, and he breathed roughly against her hair.

"I thought it might be like this," he finally said.

He pulled back, and they stood just inches from each other, her hands on his chest, his slowly running up and down her arms. He looked a little dazed and a little grim, which made her wonder what her face showed.

"When is your flight?" he asked, a little hoarse.

"It's 4:30."

"Tomorrow?"

"Now."

"When are you coming back?"

"As soon as possible."

He let go, then, and she straightened up from the support of the door.

"Which means a lot," she added, "since I'll have to see my mother if I come back again, too."

"Meanwhile, we have Call of Sacrifice," he said. She could tell he was trying to shift gears--it was hard for her, too.

"With voice chat," she agreed.

She stepped out his door, and he waved when she was about to go out of sight.

She got her car to the rental return in plenty of time to get through security, even on a busy Sunday. She pulled her cellphone out once she was at her gate to send a message to him when she saw there were messages in the group chat.

Anyone hook up after reunion? Couldn't go, so I'm relying on you all for gossip! April of the stretch-powers had asked.

Magenta, did you have any *insight* about this? Layla asked.

Ethan had written I finally have a girlfriend, I don't know about Magenta.

Magenta wrote, I don't have a girlfriend, but I beat Ethan at several rounds of PtD, so I am aight

Ethan texted her right after that and said, You are the wickedest hamster I have ever met.

Well, you are the suavest goo, she replied.

Please never say that series of words again, he responded.

Magenta got on her plane with a smile.

[sequencefairy]

Torque

Summary: The neon-soaked nighttime streets of Tokyo: home to an underground of fast cars and bad choices — the kind that can get you killed. Being in the wrong place at the right time gives upcoming driver Ichigo Kurosaki the chance to immerse himself in the seedy and cordite-laced world of high-powered backroom deals and rain-slick asphalt. Soon, Ichigo will have to make a lethal choice, and see if his skill behind the wheel can save his own life, let alone hers. (Canon-typical violence, smut, a bit of angst)

Read it on AO3 - [AO3]

OR

Catch up here: [Part 1] - [Part 2] - [Part 3] - [Part 4] - [Part 5] - [Part 6] - [Part 7]

Once again, as always, @gunnerpalace with the excellent beta. I complain a lot, but you always help. 

Part 3: Shining Violence

Race nights are special – there's something almost electric in the air, in his blood. His heart throbs and pumps adrenaline through him; it sets his senses alight and makes his skin tingle. He’s missed this – the engine rumble,the hiss of NOS. He checks his gauges and runs through his usual ritual. He presses a hand to his chest to feel the bite of his pendant against his skin, then flicks his eyes up to the picture of his sisters shoved into the sun visor.

Tonight’s an easy circuit down near the docks; its only complication is Ichigo’s opposition. On his left is Tatsuki Arisawa - his childhood best friend, nearly as good behind the wheel as she is with boxing gloves on her fists. On his right is a newcomer – Ichigo thinks he maybe recognizes him from school, but the guy’s eyes are hidden behind mirrored glasses, and the windows on his car are tinted so dark all Ichigo can see is the barely there gleam of the dash lights off them.

Ichigo shakes himself, then grips the steering wheel. His blood hums in anticipation.

The flag swings down, and Ichigo powers through his first shifts. His car leaps ahead of both of his opponents and blazes down the opening straight. The engine purrs smoothly and Ichigo shifts, clean and unhurriedly. He takes the first turn one-handed.

He glances from the road to his rearview mirror, and smirks as he watches Tatsuki fall further and further behind. The other car is gaining steadily, but Ichigo knows the course, and knows he can take the next corner while barely touching his brakes on the lead in. He downshifts to gain room to accelerate and hits the apex of the turn hard.

By the time he's through the next turn, his mystery rival is barely a car-length behind. Ichigo grips the wheel and refocuses. He puts the other driver out of mind and concentrates on hitting his line through the next corner.

The other car tries to overtake him on the inside and Ichigo wrenches the wheel, making sure the other driver knows what he's willing to do to win.

His opponent backs off.

Ichigo pours on the power through the final straight. Behind him, the other car resumes gaining ground. They cross the finish line neck and neck. Ichigo wins - barely.

They get out of their cars together. The other guy takes off his sunglasses and runs a hand through his longish black hair. He’s tall and leanly built.

“Nice race, Kurosaki,” he says, and Ichigo nods at him.

He’s familiar enough, but Ichigo still can’t place him.

He sticks out his hand. “Ishida Uryuu,” he says, and Ichigo takes the proffered hand. Ishida’s grip is firm. “You should come down to our shop sometime,” he continues.

Ichigo follows the turn of his head towards a group of people standing on the fringes of the crowd.

A ginger-haired woman smiles and lifts a hand to wave. Ishida nods to Ichigo. Renji appears at that moment and claps a hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. Ishida takes that as his cue to leave while Renji steers Ichigo away from his car.

It’s late when the post-race party finally winds down. Ichigo takes his leave of Renji and slides back into the cocooning warmth of his leather car seat. He turns the key and sits for a moment, listening to the engine – there’s something almost off about the sound. He makes a mental note to remember to run down to Renji’s garage before next weekend.

Ichigo navigates back to the freeway, watching the city slide by his open window, elbow propped on the doorframe and cool night air rushing in. The city sounds like it always does – distant sirens, the hum of cars on the freeway, the rustle of leaves as a breeze kicks them down the sidewalk.

Ichigo is coming to an easy stop at a red light when he hears a yell.

It's decidedly feminine in origin, though the words are spiced with the kind of street rat language that makes even Ichigo’s ears burn. The next yell is garbled and sounds pained. He flicks the turn signal and heads right, crawling down the block in search of the source.

Even moving at a snail’s pace, he still nearly hits the guy that walks out of an alley to his right. The guy raps Ichigo’s hood with both fists and Ichigo hits the brakes. Another guy comes walking out as Ichigo is unbuckling his seatbelt. They’re both burly, wearing all black, and – Ichigo assumes – are likely up to no good.

They stand in front of Ichigo’s car and stare at him through the windshield.

Ichigo immediately dubs them Thing One and Thing Two in his head.

“Hey man,” Ichigo starts, getting out of his car. Thing One and Thing Two track him. “Watch where you’re going –“

“Watch where you’re fucking driving, buddy,” Thing One says, and knocks his knuckles against Ichigo’s hood again. “Why don’t you get lost?.”  Thing One makes a shooing motion with his hands.

Ichigo ignores him. “Don’t touch my fucking car,” he snarls.

Thing Two raises an eyebrow and leans forward.

Ichigo looks at the hand on his hood, “Seriously, man.”

“Seriously, man,” Thing Two repeats, mocking him.

Ichigo’s hackles rise. “Look –"

“He asked you not to touch his car,” says a female voice from down the alley. Ichigo turns to look and inhales sharply when the speaker steps out of the shadows. She’s petite, dark-haired, and there’s dirt on her face. Ichigo notices she’s cradling her left forearm in the crook of her right elbow.

“Stupid bitch,” Thing One says, “Just couldn’t stay down, could you? Don’t want to hurt a lady, but I’ll make an exception for you, Kuchiki brat.” Thing One cracks his knuckles and smiles. “Especially since I know there’s nothing ladylike about you.”

“Hey,” Ichigo interjects, stepping forward.

“Stay out of this, kid,” Thing Two threatens.

Ichigo scoffs. “Or what?”

It’s only from years of sparring with Tatsuki that Ichigo catches the way Thing One’s shoulder bunches. He ducks as Thing One’s fist sails past his head, and comes up swinging. His fist connects with a satisfying crunch. Thing One is knocked back a step and Ichigo shakes out his hand.

The sharp inhalation from the girl is Ichigo's only warning before the unseen fist connects with his back. The punch propels him forward, and Ichigo teeters before regaining his footing and turning around.

Thing Two is grinning darkly at him.

“You asked for it, kid,” Thing One says, and charges him. Ichigo is ready, and uses the other man’s inertia to turn him aside and send him sprawling. Thing Two comes at him next, and Ichigo gets in a couple of solid hits before the other man’s fist connects with his jaw.

Seeing stars, Ichigo stumbles back, and barely manages to keep himself from sprawling by planting a hand on the hood of his car. He straightens. There’s blood in his mouth and he spits before wiping his lip with one hand.

“You’re a little out of your league, kid.”

Ichigo grins. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Thing One comes at him again, and Ichigo sweeps his legs out from under him, dropping him onto his back. The man doesn’t get back up. Ichigo forgets the cardinal rule of a street fight as he takes a moment to savour his victory. He doesn’t see the next hit coming until his head snaps to the side and the next punch takes all the air out of his lungs. He hits the ground, knees first.

“Told you,” Thing Two says, and Ichigo looks up at him. Thing Two is reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, and it’s as his sleeve slips back that Ichigo notices the tattoos. All of a sudden, Ichigo realises what he’s walked into is far more complicated than merely rescuing a girl from some thugs - how could he have been so blind? He's going to die here on this street, and his father is going to have to identify his body and his sisters -

It’s the girl who comes to his rescue - she throws herself in front of him.

“No,” Ichigo rasps, “you idiot!”

The report is deafening from so close and Ichigo feels a hot spray of blood across his face. There is no other sound, and she crumples to the ground in front of him.

Ichigo closes his eyes.

There’s something cold dripping on him and Ichigo opens his eyes. Above him, a pair of dark and serious eyes framed by dark hair swim into focus. The dripping cold is rain. Ichigo can feel the wet road against his back, dampness soaking through his shirt.

“Idiot,” she’s saying, “You’re an absolute idiot.”

“You’re welcome,” Ichigo says, and her brows draw down into a frown. She opens her mouth, and Ichigo knows that look – he’s seen it on Karin’s face enough times to know she’s about to launch into some tirade – so he stops her by sitting up. The girl sits back on her haunches, and Ichigo realizes they’re both on the wet pavement.  “C’mon,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

Ichigo winces as he stands, and scrubs a hand under his nose. He can feel where his bottom lip is split and there’s a lump on the back of his skull. Thing One and Thing Two are nowhere to be found. The girl doesn’t get to her feet, and Ichigo notices she’s holding one shoulder with her hand, and her fingers are wet with blood.

She looks up at him, and Ichigo barely catches her before she keels over, going boneless in his arms. “Shit.” He’d forgotten. Her blood seeps sluggishly from the wound in her shoulder, and Ichigo shrugs out of his hoodie and then pulls off his shirt, balling it up before pressing it to her wound. Her eyes flutter open.

“We need to leave,” she says, and Ichigo rolls his eyes.

“No shit, Sherlock,” he says, tugging his hoodie back on. He takes her hand and presses it against his shirt. “Hold that there,” he says, “I’m taking you back to my dad’s clinic –”

“No,” she says, eyes flashing hot. “Too many questions.”

“You’ve been shot,” Ichigo argues, “you don’t get to decide –”

“Listen, idiot, I’m telling you –”

“And I’m telling you,” Ichigo says, and slides one hand under her knees and the other arm across her back. “You need medical attention, my dad’s clinic isn’t far, and no one will ask any questions, okay?”

“Take me home,” she says, and there’s a pleading note in her voice that makes Ichigo pause. He looks down at her, eyes flickering between her face and the gradually increasing crimson stain on his t-shirt. “Please,” she says, “there’s a doctor there, I’ll be looked after.”

Ichigo tightens his grip on her and gets to his feet. She is feather-light. “Fine,” he says.

She shivers.

“Don't go into shock on the way there,” he orders, and she nods, her eyes falling shut. “Nope,” Ichigo says, shaking her gently. “None of that, keep your eyes open.”

He deposits her in the passenger seat and buckles her in before half-vaulting, half-sliding across the hood of his car. “Where to?” he asks, once he’s started the engine. The girl rattles off an address, her voice slurring into nothing by the end, and Ichigo reaches over, and shakes her shoulder. “Stay awake, goddammit,” he commands, fumbling the address into his phone and watching the route vector itself across the screen.

“Hey! Tell me your name.”

“Rukia,” she says, “Kuchiki Rukia.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ichigo says, “I’m Kurosaki Ichigo.”

“Tell me,” Rukia says, wincing as she presses her hand against Ichigo’s shirt more firmly, “Do you often get involved in street fights at two in the morning?”

“No,” Ichigo answers. He takes the next turn faster than is completely necessary. “Do you normally get beaten up in an alley and shot at two in the morning?”

Rukia laughs weakly and lapses into silence. The rest of the drive there is largely a blur, and she’s mostly passed out by the time they get to the highrise she’d directed him to. “Hey,” Ichigo says, shaking her shoulder again, “we’re here.” She stirs, and Ichigo watches her eyes refocus.

“Thank you,” she says, and fumbles for the door handle.

Ichigo grabs her hand. “You think I’m just gonna let you get out of this car? You can’t even stand –”

“I’m fine.”

“Right.” Ichigo lets her go, and she heaves the door open, before sliding out of the seat. She wobbles on her feet, but she stands. She takes a step and Ichigo has never moved so fast in his life. “Let me help you,” he says, and he snugs an arm around around her waist. They hobble to the doorway together.

The concierge leaps up from behind his desk when they pass through the revolving door.

“Kuchiki-san! What happened?”

“Got shot,” Rukia says. The concierge’s eye widen comically and he takes a huge breath before Rukia speaks again, cutting him off. “Sentaro-kun, would you call my brother please?”

“Of course Kuchiki-san, absolutely, right away.” The concierge bounds away to do just that.

“I’ll be fine now,” Rukia says to Ichigo, “You don’t need to stay.”

Ichigo snorts. “I think I’ll stick around, I’d like to make sure this doctor of yours knows what he’s doing.”

“I do, thank you. I’ll take it from here.” Ichigo starts and nearly drops Rukia. The owner of the voice has gentle eyes and long white hair, pulled back in a braid.

“If you’ll just –” The doctor gestures at Ichigo’s hand around Rukia’s hip. Ichigo relinquishes his grip on Rukia and the doctor gathers her up into his arms.

Rukia turns her head to look at Ichigo before the doctor walks her towards the elevator bank at the back of the lobby. “Thank you,” she says, and Ichigo nods. He looks down at his hands. Her blood stains his skin, captured in the ridges and whorls of his palms, and he can feel it gone dry on his face. The concierge appears to his left.

“Kuchiki-sama will be down in a moment,” he says, and Ichigo looks up, “Please feel free to make use of the washroom.” The concierge points down the corridor leading off the lobby.

Ichigo takes the suggestion for the hint that it is. It’s only after he’s rinsed them off that he notices that his hands are shaking. He splashes cold water on his face and looks at himself in the mirror. He’s got  a purpling bruise across his jaw in addition to his split lip. He can feel the rest of the bruises on his torso but doesn’t unzip his hoodie to look at them – he knows they’ll be worse in the morning anyway.

He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly and carefully. He leaves the bathroom and walks back out into the lobby. For the first time, he takes in his surroundings. It’s that kind of understated high end class of a place that makes him feel awkward, even when he’s not wearing a hoodie, or a developing sunset of a bruise on his face.

The elevator dings and a man walks out. Ichigo has to consciously quell the urge to stand up straighter.

“You must be Kurosaki,” the man says, after he strides fluidly across the lobby. Ichigo nods. “Kuchiki Byakuya,” the man says, and sticks out his hand. Ichigo would have to be an absolute idiot to not notice the way the man’s suit fits like it was made for him, or the way that even though the fabric is plain, everything about it screams money and power.

Ichigo takes the proffered hand. Byakuya’s grip is confident and when he lets go, Ichigo feels like he has passed some kind of test.

“Thank you for intervening,” Byakuya says, and Ichigo shrugs. “My sister will be fine. We appreciate your help. Compensation for your time and trouble.” Byakuya hands Ichigo an envelope. Ichigo looks at the envelope and back at Byakuya.

“Uh,” he says, “No thanks – I mean, I don’t want your money, I’m just glad she’s okay.” Ichigo brings a hand up to the back of his neck. “I’ll just – I’m gonna go, gotta get home before sunrise, or my old man’ll have my hide.” Ichigo laughs nervously.

Byakuya’s expression doesn’t change.

“Thanks anyway,” Ichigo says, and steps back, intending to leave.

“You race, do you not?” Byakuya asks, and Ichigo stops. “I’ve seen you,” Byakuya continues, and brushes past Ichigo without waiting for any kind of response. Ichigo falls in step in his wake without even fully realizing it. “You drive well, but your equipment could use an upgrade.” Byakuya pushes through the revolving door and out onto the sidewalk.

Ichigo’s car sits against the curb. Low-slung and black as night, it’s all sleek lines and easy curves, and Ichigo likes it just the way it is.

Byakuya walks around the car, his expression shifting to cool assessment.

Ichigo drops a hand possessively on the roof, over the door, feeling the smooth metal under his palm.

Byakuya joins him on the driver’s side of the car. “If you will not take money, perhaps you will take this.” Byakuya reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and offers Ichigo a card. “Come down to the garage, I am certain we have something you would like.” Ichigo takes the card. It's heavy card stock with an address embossed and nothing else.

Byakuya leaves him on the street.

Ichigo looks down at the card, and shakes his head.