#I wanted to give them a seedy alley background

[unicornmagic]

Friendship is magic, Credence

(Thanks as always to General Zoi’s Pony Creator)

[yubsie]

Something in the Air

Summary: Hera has her own ways of knowing how Kanan is feeling. Or, five times Kanan's pheromones were a problem and one time they weren't.

Notes: Okay. So this one actually seems like I should explain myself.Victory's Price casually mentioned Hera detecting human pheromones in the middle of a Zoom meeting. This has certain implications. And then Rogue Podron screamed "Fanfic prompt! Yubsie!" in the middle of an episode.Never underestimate my willingness to write fanfiction on a dare.

Rating: T

AO3 Link: Should you prefer

1. Attraction

Hera knew that Kanan was attracted to her when she invited him on board. She thought she knew what she was getting herself into.

She wasn’t quite ready for him being attracted to her when all the air circulated within the ship. Maybe she could improve the filters in the life support system. She hadn’t really thought about human pheromones when she was setting the standard parameters.

The flirting was one thing. It was entertaining enough some days, even if she had far too much work to do

It was the realization that he was still attracted to her when he  wasn’t  flirting that was going to drive her up the wall. They were just supposed to be eating breakfast. The basic porridge accompanied by their vastly different mugs of caf might just be the least sensual meal imaginable.

And yet, every pheromone screamed that he was thinking about her.

She wanted to say something. But what could he do? It wasn’t like he had conscious control over any of this. She could send him to take a shower, but that wouldn’t help for long.

The fact that he wasn’t flirting meant he was trying to avoid turning mealtime into an awkward situation. He couldn’t help that every pore betrayed where his true attention lay right now.

“We’ve got a job today.” Hera took another bite of the porridge. Maybe if she just focused on how incredibly beige the cooked grain was it would get both of them back down to a sensible level.

“What are we looking at?”

“Imperial fuel delivery. Should be enough to keep us flying for a few standard months and still pass on plenty to my contact.” And, of course, the further advantage of making life just a little bit more complicated for the Empire. A delivery that made this much of a difference for them was barely a rounding error to the Empire as a whole, but they were particular about these sorts of things. The local despot would still have some accounting to do for this. It might slow him down a bit.

“We hitting them in orbit?”

Hera shook her head. “We’ll be taking the Phantom down. They’ll be vulnerable in transit.”

In open air. She hadn’t planned it for this reason, but she was going to take advantage. Set the scrubbers to run an extra cycle

2. Discomfort

There weren’t many good places for a clandestine meeting on this planet—none of their usual seedy cantinas or crowded marketplaces. The spaceport wasn’t the bustling sort of place where they could do a drop in passing.

But the Empire did so like building its museums. They had a vested interest in spreading around their particular version of history. The local populace was encouraged to visit to learn the splendor of their overlords. And conveniently enough for people who were barely scraping by as a very small rebel cell, admission was free of charge for all to come learn.

She didn’t need to pick up the pheromones to know that Kanan was uncomfortable. She’d done her best to arrange the meeting as far from any Empire Day-related exhibits as she could but... it wasn’t that big a museum. He hadn’t said much when the date crept by last month, but it troubled him enough to know this was a bad idea. Who in the galaxy didn’t have their share of scars if they were old enough to remember that time?

“If you’re not feeling well, I can do this one on my own.” Having a crewmate had definitely made a lot of things go smoother, but she’d done missions on her own before. She could get out of this situation if she had to.

“No, I want to have your back. I’ll be okay.”

Every subtle signal in the atmosphere said otherwise. She was getting used to ignoring every indication that he was attracted to her. That managed to fade into generic background radiation for their lives. This feeling wasn’t just new, it was more intense. “Look, I can read you too.” She didn’t know how often he actually used the Force for that. Certainly it had been months since she’d seen him do anything flashy, but pheromones only told her so much.

Kanan sighed. “I’m not saying I like it here. But I’m not going to leave you hanging.”

“Then I’m going to need you to actually focus.” It wasn’t the first time she wished she could just send him to take a long shower. That was an even less practical solution than usual

“Let’s just get in and out.”

Hera scanned the room again, looking for the most boring exhibit possible. There had to be something full of dull economic numbers instead of numbers that turned painful events into dry figures.

The glorious cabbage industry of this planet was just what she needed. She rested a hand on his elbow and pointed him over. As an added bonus, it wasn’t very popular.

“Don’t look at any of this. Just look at me.” Maybe she could get him back to being attracted to her. That seemed to be more or less his default state. Change the balance of the feelings. “Talk to me. About anything.”

3. Anger

The seedy cantinas had problems of their own, but she was used to them. She wouldn’t have needed pheromones to be on guard against the men in these places. She knew what they saw her as. She could handle them, she’d handled them plenty of times.

It was nice to have someone else along with her though. Sitting at a table and discussing podracing while waiting for the contact to approach was a definite improvement over sitting at the bar and fending off advances.

“It’s all about having the engines perfectly in tune.” It wasn’t Kanan’s preferred form of entertainment, but he was managing to say something that sounded like he actually paid attention and wasn’t just choosing a topic of conversation that sounded innocuous to prying ears.

He was wrong, but that was perfectly acceptable in a cover story. She wasn’t going to let him just keep being wrong, though. It wouldn’t look good, for one thing. “It’s about the pilot. Give a novice too much machine and they won’t be able to handle it.”

The two humans who approached weren’t interested in subtlety. “I like a girl who knows her racing.”

Hera suppressed a sigh. This might be the usual setting for meeting their contacts, but these situations were always going to be annoying. “Not interested.” She’d been dealing with this her entire adult life and for a few years before that. Every Twi’lek girl was warned about it from a young age.

She didn’t need the stink in the air to tell her what brought them over to this table. Just eyes to see the way they both leered. “Come on sweetheart, you can do better than him.”

“Not interested.” Telling them he wasn’t along like that would only make them more persistent.

“Ah, come on. We all know you girls are just looking for the right man. Place like this, you’re looking at him.”

She was ready for most of what she faced in a cantina like this. But she suddenly realized this hadn’t happened since Kanan had joined the crew. She suddenly detected a set of pheromones behind her that she’d never felt from Kanan before.

She’d experienced Kanan irritated plenty of times. But never angry.

“I’m just here for a drink. Which I have.” She rested a hand on Kanan’s arm. She didn’t think he’d do anything rash but.... this was new. Very new.

“I’ll get you a drink.”

Like she was ever going to take a drink from a strange man in a seedy cantina. Twi’lek girls were taught about that one from the time they could speak. They had to be.

She was used to it. Kanan wasn’t. “The lady has her drink.” She could see his hand twitch into a fist from the corner of her eye.

She should have prepared him better for this. Made a plan. Because right now, what she was sensing in the air was enough to make  her  want to punch someone. That would just mean leaving without the information. She kept her hand on her drink (just good sense) and pulled closer to Kanan. “I’ve got this,” she whispered.

They were particularly irritating, but she just needed to fend them off until their contact showed. That meant making sure she and Kanan weren’t the ones the bartender wanted gone. She’d need to get another drink eventually just to make it worth the owner’s while, but she’d navigated this situation countless times.

“You’re really picking him? There’s better quality humans all over this place.”

It shouldn’t matter if she was picking Kanan or picking to sit and drink in peace. But she needed them gone.

The sense of anger wasn’t going down. Maybe she could solve two problems at once. She slipped into Kanan’s lap, draping herself over him in an altogether familiar way. She felt the ripple of surprise through his entire body at the move. “I really am.”

Kanan pulled her drink closer to them. Very thoughtful. And she could be pretty sure he wasn’t about to start any barfights with her sitting on top of him.

“If you don’t mind, we’re busy.”

There were other pheromones in play now, but maybe she didn’t mind those ones so much after all.

4. Fear

They spent so much time getting into fights in dark alleys. It was one of the true constants of their relationship, from the very beginning. It should almost start to feel routine.

All they could do was duck. Fire. Duck again. Get another shot off.

Hera would have preferred the handoff go smooth, but a lot of things happened that didn’t necessarily align with her preferences. She could still keep the situation under something resembling control. Or at least she could keep her head.

The actual job was already done; that should count as a win. They didn’t have any suspicious packages on them. By all rights, they shouldn’t even be the interesting targets right now.

And yet. They were the ones getting shot at.

“I don’t think these guys like us, Spectre One.” They didn’t look like they were Empire. Not directly, anyway. So maybe they’d personally annoyed them somehow.

“Getting that impression, Spectre Two.” Kanan rolled behind a large trash bin and kept firing back.

They needed to find a way out of here. Hera backed as far behind cover as she could manage and pulled out her commlink. “Chop, we need a pickup five minutes ago!”

Chopper warbled some rude comments about the nature of linear time, but she trusted him to get over there as fast as actually possible.

Meanwhile, their opponents kept closing in. Did they just want them dead, was that what this was about?

Bounty hunters would want them alive. There weren’t any specific bounties on them last any of their seedier contacts had heard, but the Empire would always pay to get their hands on rebels. People who couldn’t cut it up against the big name targets might want to go to this much trouble.

Or they could have just stolen the cargo and gotten a much easier payday. Their plan didn’t make a lot of sense, and yet it was still making things incredibly difficult. “Persistent.”

They could analyze the motivations once they survived this.

A blaster bolt flew way too close to of her lekku and she had to dive on top of Kanan to avoid it. For all the flirting she never had to worry about him taking anything the wrong way in a fire fight. They both knew where they stood when they were in mortal peril. Everything got simpler then.

So she wasn’t expecting any pheromone spikes, no matter how cozy they’d just gotten. He did have  some  sense of the right moment and this was about as far as it could get from that.

They’d had plenty of time to get used to being around each other since Kanan first came on board. Kanan attracted was just a reality now.

Kanan afraid was brand new. “I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

She moved quickly, shooting back at their charming pursuers. She tried to push everything else out of her mind.

Chopper needed to hurry up.

5. Attraction, Again

The seedy cantinas were never a particularly pleasant experience, but at least they were familiar. Hera knew what they were getting into, knew the dangers and how to blend in.

These fancier events were foreign territory for both of them. The people who attended them were just as dangerous as the ones at the seedy cantinas, but they sparkled. They would still kill you if you were in their way, but they were never quite so honest as just a blaster in a back alley.

At least in the seedy cantinas, she got to wear comfortable clothes. She belonged in a flightsuit. Too bad that would make it look like she was some sort of rebel interloper here to cause trouble at the party.

Which was ridiculous; she was just a rebel interloper here to collect an intelligence drop at the party.

Fancy people at fancy parties wore slinky dresses. And if they were rebel interlopers, they tried to make sure the length could tear free to get her knees available to run in an emergency.

She could tell that Kanan was uncomfortable before he even made it out of his cabin. At least that made two of them. They’d had to borrow the formalwear from their contact. It was the right look, even if they were going to feel ridiculous the entire time.

And then he actually saw her and the pheromones became overwhelming.

“You look...” The way that men looked at her at the fancy parties would be the same as at the seedy cantinas. But coming from Kanan, she knew it was all genuine.

It was still going to be incredibly distracting. More so than from anyone else. “Like I wandered off from somewhere else.”

“I’m just saying. I’d never ask you to wear this getup, but you pull it off .” The look in his eyes finished that sentence just fine.

“You don’t look half bad yourself, you know.” Was that as distracting in the Force as the scent of human pheromones in the air were for her?

Could she even really blame it on the pheromones when she would have been interested anyway? There was more than one reason to want out of these ridiculous outfits right now.

“Trust me, no one is going to be looking at me.” Which was, of course, part of the plan. Keep every nefarious eye on her while Kanan actually took care of the handoff. She wasn’t above exploiting those exasperating tendencies wherever she went. It was a good plan. She just wanted it to be over with.

“And that is why I need you to focus .” If only so she could focus.

She was fully prepared to ditch these ridiculous shoes if she had to. Boots weren’t going to fit this look at all. Until this actually went south, she had Kanan playing the gallant escort, helping her up the step while she wrangled the skirt.

She assumed the way that he flexed his fingers after letting go was meant to be some part of the act. Kriff, that man could make it hard to focus on a job. How was  he  going to get anything done if he was projecting such an overwhelming feeling into the atmosphere?

The Force probably could do that. You certainly didn’t hear stories about the great Jedi getting distracted from their mission by a pretty face or a set of legs. They must train for it.

She, on the other hand, hadn’t. Especially not for tuning out attraction from someone she actually did feel the same toward.

“Focusing. Thinking about nothing but boring things. TPS Reports. The colour beige. That terrible holoseries Zeb loves. X-Wing fuel consumption rates.”

Not exactly sweet nothings, but having him whisper irritation in her ear was the most thoughtful thing he could have done in the moment. Endearing, but she could work with that.

And One Time They Weren't

The job had not gone well. By any stretch of the imagination. It was going to be one hell of a debriefing to work out all the specific ways it had gone wrong because she couldn’t just write “everything” in her report and call it a day. It was accurate, but it wasn’t useful.

The intel was bad. The Empire was ready for them. Their contact wasn’t where they were supposed to be. Even the weather had suddenly turned against them. Someone  not her  was going to have to figure out the particulars of how  all  of that had managed to happen at once.

For now, she just needed the kids to stop fighting. Bad enough that they were crawling through the mud trying to get back to the Ghost, it didn’t need to happen with a soundtrack. It probably wasn’t anything any of them had done that was behind all this. The mission had been doomed going in.

“You didn’t have to tackle me into the mud puddle!” Zeb did look quite the fright with his fur standing on end. She was going to have to give him first dibs on the shower, he was worse off than the rest of them.

“I could tell Sabine’s bomb was going off too soon, you’re welcome for keeping you from getting blown up!” Ezra said.

“I told you to get clear!” Sabine yelled.

Hera pinched the bridge of her nose. “All of you stop. We got through it. That’s what matters.” Not asking the kids to help with the report, that was for sure. She didn’t need their theories on who’s specific fault it was. “Go get cleaned up.”

It was going to be a pain to get the seats clean again, but she needed to get them in the air and out of here before any more company showed up. If the kids didn’t stop squabbling soon, she would set them to scrubbing it down. Or possibly the entire ship. With toothbrushes.

At least their unexpected company didn’t seem to have friends in the air to continue their ridiculous day. A few clever moves later and they were safely off the planet. Zeb was going to be in the shower for a while. Ezra and Sabine were going to be fighting for a while and Chopper would probably wade into the fray. She was just going to stay right here until they worked it out and it was her turn for the shower. No sense tromping mud anywhere else on the ship.

She felt the flicker of air as the cockpit door slid open. She didn’t need any other senses to realize who it was. For one thing, there was no accompanying argument.

Kanan slid into the co-pilot’s seat. “Well, that was a day.”

That about covered it.

There was always that standard background radiation of her life. It had been a long time since she’d actually needed pheromones to pick up on Kanan’s moods. But she still noticed them every now and then. And right now, she couldn’t help laughing. “Really? Even now?”

They were exhausted. They were covered in mud. They had bruises in places they were both going to question in the morning. The kids were at each other’s throats.

And yet, he was still actively attracted to her in this specific moment.

Apparently that was a challenge, because he decided he didn’t need to be collapsed in the seat after all. Not when kissing was an option. “Every moment you’re around.”

[whendidyou-leaveheaven]

Like I like My Whiskey...

[a self indulgent stucky emotions short piece]

“I like my men like I like my whiskey,” Bucky says, a smile curving into the corner of his cheek like the curl of a wood whorl off of a bevel, that smile just a chip off the block, “aged and mellow.” His eyes are playful but private, quiet but lively.

“I can give ya aged but I don’t know about mellow, pal,” Steve says, closer to giggling than he ever is in any other circumstance. Bucky brings it out in him, that giddiness that smarts of his youth.

They’re both leaning on the polished but worn wood edge of the last bar in Brooklyn that survived the century and the nostalgia is rich. Steve has to resist running his hand over the old wood in pure affection. Old things evoke a kind of appreciation he can’t explain.

Bucky looks just like he did the day they made him ship out with that mahogany hair tucked behind his ears. He’s got a smile on his face that just won’t leave. Steve hasn’t seen him smile in weeks, but now they’re alone and tucked back into this small crevice of the city where time almost stands still and Steve...his heart feels like the last seventy years maybe didn’t happen. Maybe Bucky just pulled him up out of the alley and he’s never fought a war in his life. Everyone else is background noise. Everyone else is so young. They’re misplaced in time but the music is almost right. He’s been searching for the right jazz bar, anywhere that still has that feeling. He probably won’t ever find it again. Some things just don’t persevere. In fact most things don’t. Haven’t. But thank god he’s got one thing that does. He’s got Bucky now. Bucky is wearing some grey t-shirt and black jeans instead of a navy green military uniform but that face still fits the picture.

There’s a vintage piano piece playing and Bucky tips his face up listening. “Hey… I know this one,” he says. “C’mon cap’n, let’s dance.” He’s telling Steve, he ain’t asking.

Steve can’t remember what they were even talking about. Or why Bucky mentioned how he liked his men. His men being Steve? Steve must be his only man. After all, who the hell else could he be talking about?

They have to drink like fish, a whole school of them, to get drunk these days. Steve used to be the biggest lightweight on the entire planet. Bucky used to drink until he woke up smelling soaked to the bone in whiskey but now they both have to drink hard liquor like water to feel it at all. But they prepared for this earlier, (what do they call it these days ? Pre-gaming?) and they’re both a little drunk for once, god bless. Only Thor really got that, the superhuman resilience to alcohol bit, until Bucky came back. Bucky came back…

Steve is too involved in Bucky to worry about what anyone around them might think. It’s not a simple thing, to overcome the fear of prejudice. But no one in their right mind would try and beat him up now. It seemed hard at first and then after everything else he dealt with coming out of that ice, it seemed like nothing. It just didn’t matter. He had problems that were so much bigger than a look someone might cast his way. And Bucky was so much bigger than any pitiful little fear. Bucky, brave and smiling and waiting for him to get off his damn stool and dance with him… they’d never danced. He was a little drunk. Bucky was a little more drunk, perhaps. Bucky had asked all their girls to dance. Steve had always stood on the sidelines. Once upon a time he thought he wished those girls would have asked him. And then when they did, he realized it wasn’t really them he wanted to be asking. It only took a hundred years for him to wise up. What was a century anyway when this man was smiling at him like that, biting his lip? Still doing that thing. Still licking his bottom lip and holding it between his teeth with that look like he was thinking real hard about something. And his eyes were on Steve.

“Well come on!” Bucky urges. He’s not standing there for nothing.

Steve shakes his head but stops looking at his best friend and gets his butt up.

The room is small. It’s a little hole in the wall of a place but they still have live music sometimes and it’s enough, enough room to get by and to stand the test of time.

Steve takes a look around finally, out of curiosity, and they’re mostly alone. And if two men are dancing here in this tiny corner of New York no one really cares now. But him.

Bucky’s arm slides around Steve’s waist as soon as he gets close and it could just be a gag, just for fun. Even though Steve is feeling some way he hasn’t felt in years. In forever. It has been a long time since Bucky’s thrown an arm around him. Like this, or over his shoulder, and not when they were struggling to get across the battlefield, the only thing keeping them up being each other’s arms. This is something different, and also familiar. Steve is nearly taller now than Bucky but-

the music is slow, almost too slow to dance to. Bucky has to move in closer, he pulls Steve nearer until they are hip to hip. He seems more loose than usual, more carefree. But the more loose and carefree he becomes the more warm Steve feels, the more he can't stop. Can’t stop staring.

“I gotta tell ‘em. These lilly young studs just don’t do it for me.”

Steve blinks and tries to sober himself. He’s been staring at Bucky’s face and not hearing what he's saying. “Yeah,” he says, breathing in deep and feeling Bucky’s chest touch his with the inhale. He can almost smell the cold water brine and the iron if he reaches for it; the way Buck used to smell at the end of a long day. After he came home from work.

His hand is on Bucky’s shoulder. Friendly and harmless but -

“You seem pretty mellow to me.”

“You’re just drunk.”

“I can’t get drunk.”

“If I can get drunk you can get drunk.”

“Yeah right, you’ve always been a lightweight. I can drink ten times as much as you.”

Steve gives him a look of pending protest but he ends up just shaking his head and saying nothing because Bucky is right. Bucky's had to carry him home practically any time they had ever gone out drinking. And Bucky looks so happy, for once, finally, he is smiling so much it’s all Steve can think about. “It’s nice to see you smile, Buck,” Steve says. It feels like a mistake instantly, because the smile leaves Bucky's face, like he’d just remembered where he was. Here in the twentieth century on the seedy side of Brooklyn and not in the smoky familiar proletariat bar of 1941.

“I mean, it makes me feel like everything's like it was,” Steve says. He wants to bring the smile back. But he doesn’t have to wait too long. Bucky’s smile returns naturally on its own as he watches Steve, but he’s grown quiet. And they are pressed close now. He feels Bucky’s arm tighten around his waist. He doesn’t even try not to press his hips to Steve’s. He holds them closer, body to body.

Steve moves his hand down Bucky’s right arm until their hands meet and he presses his hand into Bucky’s, feeling every finger between his own. Now it’s like they’re dancing. Slow dancing for real. The way you’re supposed to do it.

“Nothing’s like it was,” Bucky whispers. His mouth is close to Steve’s jaw . He leans forward so that his head is side by side with Steve's.

“Buck…”

“It’s alright.”

After a too-long silence with the sound of an old trombone and sax squealing into the dusky space and Bucky’s warmth gathering in his skin Steve moves back just so he can see Bucky’s face again. He makes his voice light and teasing. “You haven’t aged a day.” This has the desired effect. Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners and he smiles again. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” he jabs.

Steve lets himself laugh. A real laugh showing his teeth and letting himself feel it.

They dance like that for a while and Steve could stay that way forever if he wasn’t afraid Bucky would get bored of it. But he doesn’t sound bored when he finally speaks again. He sounds tired and a little fragile and like all the longing in the world has been hiding under his tongue this whole time and Steve somehow missed that. And he sounds like he trusts Steve, with it, with him. “Steve...”

Steve squeezes him tighter, probably too tight. “Yeah?”

“Let’s go home.”

[sterys]

Behind the Beskar

Genre: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Cross-posted on AO3

Behind the Beskar

You’d just joined the Guild and this was your first job.

You were living on borrowed money in a seedy little flat in the one of the worst neighbourhood of Nevarro. You had to pay the rent (not cheap), the electricity (cheaper), the running water (hot water was included, thank hot lava planet), the speeder repairs, the monthly salary to your elderly parents’ maid who helped them through old age, a system away from you.

You used to lend your accountancy skills to Governors from outer regions, help them manage their bases and finances. Now, with the Empire fallen, you struggled to make ends meet. The Rebel alliance had centralized every financial operation, scattered the old consolidation team and you were made redundant at the young age of twenty-seven.

Every accountant and financial controller working under the Empire had been found guilty of financial fraud and theft by the Rebels right after the Battle of Endor, so you had hastily embarked on a ship to leave the Core Worlds and never return.

In Nevarro, nobody cared about where you came from, or what you did for a living, as long as you had credits, and the wits to keep them with you at all times when on trips to the cantina. You were able to sustain the lifestyle for a month, but one day you woke up feeling so cold that you thought your toes would fall off your feet, stomach rumbling loudly, and you decided that enough was enough.

You went straight back to the cantina, barely paying attention to your surroundings. You were intent on paying off this debt. Everything went smoothly enough, considering that it was obvious that the man from the Guild expected you to die on your first mission, and you could only agree with him, but fuck, this was a ride-or-die situation. Nobody wanted to hire a former Empire accountant. Things would have been different, were you a trooper or a starfighter pilot, because people always needed those skills. But you had spent the last five years forgetting both honesty and the Full Disclosure principle, so that did not go well in your CV. Fuck the Empire and their margin-reducing Death Stars.

You chose the best-paying job, not out of talent, but out of necessity. You returned home, burying yourself under the woollen covers, puck in one hand and the city’s last year financial records printed out on yellowed paper in the other. You stifled a yawn, looking lazily at the pages.

Something was wrong here with the numbers, and you bet it had everything to do with your new bounty.

The Guild guy had explained that somebody stole something from somewhere in the city, which was not great intel, but this somebody had a contact inside the townhall, which was intel. As soon as the theft had been discovered, the contact had disappeared from the surface of the planet, but rumour had it that he was just low-profile for the moment. He was said to carry three blasters with him at all time and use two akimbo.

Sure, you didn’t have the weapons or the military background other people in the Guild had; but you had your wits and an eye for spotting anomalies in figures. Years of camouflaging fraud had taught you how to spot one very quickly – and yes! Here it was, the gap between income and cash flow. Somebody here was getting some hidden cash from the city’s council as there was no way they could still buy Empire stock with simple credit coins or chips after the fall of the Empire.

Financial records were a mine of information if you knew what to look for. You compared the statements – yes, a new building had also been bought at the beginning of the standard year, roughly at the same time as the strange disappearance of Mr. Bounty. And you happened to know where this building was. You lived in it. No wonder the rent was so high!

You emerged from the covers satisfied with your studies. But you had yet to devise a plan to eject the tenant under your feet while not crashing your own little flat. Maybe you could try from the sewers under? You could pretend to take out the bin tonight and –

Crack!

The bedroom door flew out of its hinges in a cloud of black smoke. Coughing loudly, eyes closed, you plunged to the floor, cursing your bad luck. How could your neighbour possibly know that you’d chosen his puck? You crawled under the bed while the smoke dissipated, hugging the puck and the soundproof bag containing the fob. The fob! – it was pulsing red, but no more than before. How odd, you thought, that someone would give me a faulty fob that doesn’t work even though the bounty’s boots are three inches from my face.

Heavy brown boots did in fact stood just before your eyes. You pressed a hand to your mouth, feeling sweat running down your back.

The boots shuffled on the dusty floor. You held your breath. Suddenly the bed above you disappeared, then came crashing down on the window. The room became dark, the mattress hiding the morning sunlight.

You lifted your face, head buzzing with panic. And then you saw him. You couldn’t miss him, really. The tall Mandalorian in a battered armour and shiny helmet. He towered over you, and despite you lying on the floor and having a very distorted perspective, you could tell that he was huge.

Fob glowing an angry red in one hand, and a blaster pointed at you in the other, he was a dangerous man. Before your eyes, around his calves, were enormous bullets that could only fit the rifle strapped in his back. You could tell he was a true fighter by the state of his chest plate: old, the paint wearing off, bullet cavities marring the surface. Something was not right, you decided, observing his strong shoulders. You read in his stance that he was an adept at hand combat. Hand, mid-range blaster and heavy sniper rifle. He looked down at you. One gloved hand was stained with blaster residue. The other glove was clean – or at least as clean as orange could be on a rocky planet.

“I can bring you in warm –“

“Wait!” you cried out. “You are not the bounty I’m looking for.”

This man obviously used only one blaster, not two. You could almost see the cogs turn in his brain when you saw his T-shaped visor gazing at the general direction of your own fob.

“Who are you?” His voice was raspy.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” you replied, your voice shaking a little. Admittedly, you hadn’t done a lot of bounty hunting yet but it did sound better than accountant.

He didn’t answer but you heard a small huff of static.

“I believe the bounty is the tenant living one floor under me,” you said hesitantly.

Immediately, he turned on his heels and ran out the room, leaving you aghast. You heard his surprisingly soft footsteps going down the stairs and the sound of a door being blasted off.

You sat down, heart pounding in your chest. Wow. Chances were that you’d never be able to live here again. Better flee now than miss the chance of escaping the kriffin building. You grabbed your ID, clean underwear, a big brown cloak, a bottle of water and the implant. You put on the combat boots one deputy statutory auditor had gifted to you before being murdered by the one and only Lord Vader, and set off to the stairs.

You put your foot on the first step timidly. Bang. The unmistakeable sound of blaster fire. Smoke rose in the air as it became acrid and hard to breathe.

That’s when you panicked. You turned around and ran towards the window, pushing aside the lumpy mattress and curling your fingers into a punch. Then you hit the glass as hard as you could. It came down crashing down, shards falling everywhere. You held your breath. You jumped.

You landed. You landed bad, and it hurt. Oh, kriff. You’d fortunately landed on your feet but lost your balance and your right ankle ached a little. It would probably swell up in the next couple of minutes but for the moment you needed to get out of here pretty fast.

Your stuff had fallen off your bag when you’d landed in the dirt-filled back alley. You quickly gathered your clothes, put the dust bag over your shoulder and half walked, half ran to the freeport, wincing at every step you took.

The buildings were blurry, and you could only see the shadows of the people you passed by. Was it a concussion? You ran a hand through your hair, half expecting to see blood, but you only gathered dust on your fingers. The pain in your ankle had risen during your walk, and by the time you were on the main road you were limping pitifully.

You reached the cantina for the second time in one day. This was both the point of no-return and the place where everything had begun. There were tears in your eyes, tears for this city that you’d have to leave so suddenly after grinding so hard. You were never happy here, you never made it and you struggled till the very end. On your left you saw the stand where an old man sold coarse fabrics; you’d purchased a few to repair your own clothes in the direst times. You recognized the woman brushing her hair through the top window of that one dirty, dusty building: she’d helped you find a place to sleep on your first day here.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. Shivering, you turned around. The Mandalorian was standing just behind you. You looked at him through your tears, understanding the hurry in his stance. He didn’t say anything, but you grabbed your bag and followed his long strides in the darker alleys to the space port.

Your ankle hurt but you kept running. You kept your head low, not wanting to be recognized by another Guild member. This was your first bounty, and you’d already colluded with a fellow hunter. You weren’t so sure if this was legal or not, and you were not eager to find out.

In any case, the closer to the space port you were, the better it was for your skin. You needed to lie low for a while; people here noticed blaster shots easily and you didn’t want your name to be linked with a bounty.

Your throat was burning from volcanic dust and pain flared in your ankle at every step, but you carried on. Everything was still blurry but you could see the Mandalorian keeping a steady pace a few steps before you. He never turned away to make sure you were still following, but you guessed he could hear your laboured breathing from where he was.

Now the next steps were: finding a ship that left soon, not do anything for a moment, then… Now was not the time to think about a potential “then”.

His ship was a military cargo ship, made to carry soldiers in remote outposts during the war. It was battered from battle and dusty from whatever planet it had been to before. You hesitated for a second.

“Is this where we part ways?” you asked, your voice wavering.

“Do you need transport out of here?” The Mandalorian asked gruffly.

When it became clear to him that you did, he ushered you inside and rushed to close the ramp.

You stopped to look around. That was when you realized that the Mandalorian was carrying a big black body bag on his shoulder, and he was heaving a little from the weight.

He threw the body on the ground then retrieved a pair of handcuffs from somewhere inside the metal wall. Intrigued, you looked closer. There was a strange system of metal chains suspended from the top of the wall that ended in two hooks. You understood their purpose when Mando attached the hooks to the handcuffs and pulled a lever, raising the body to eye level.

The bounty was a middle-aged human man, black haired, smartly dressed for Nevarro. His head was hanging, lip split open, and a nasty bruise was spreading on his right eyelid.

“Dead?” You murmured, a little frightened.

“No,” the Mandalorian answered. “Get back.”

You scrambled back to the end of the ship, clutching your tightly. Sharp lighting reflecting on the beskar helmet, the Mandalorian looked very in the small hull of this ship.

His movements precise, he clicked a few buttons on the control panel and suddenly the body was frozen in carbonite.

You let out the breath you just realized you had been holding. You shivered a little.

“Better get used to it,” the Mandalorian said, making his way to the cockpit.

You followed him quietly, strapping yourself in the passenger seat when he told you to. You closed your eyes as you felt the engines roar and the ship soar into the grey sky, the heavy clouds, then the blackness of the galaxy. You were afraid, but there was also a strange feeling of excitement coursing through your veins. The Nevarro days were behind you.

 You woke up, feeling blindly around you. Judging by the absence of light in the ship, it was still the middle of the night on Scarif. Also judging by the soreness of your muscles, you’d only managed to sleep for a couple of hours before the clamp soup you’d swallowed with abandon the evening before had reached your bladder.

Leaving the (relative) comfort of your covers, you got up, reaching towards the nearest wall to support yourself. Tiptoeing around, you tried to make as little sound as possible. You stifled a yawn, almost lost your balance, and cursed loudly. So much for quietness.

After half a dozen more yawns, another string of curses and a bruised toe (you’d unfortunately collided with what felt like an enormous durasteel wall plate) you found your way to the ‘fresher. You relieved yourself and washed your hands – they looked so thin; you really could use some more food – then stepped out of the unit.

That was when you heard it.

A very male groan followed by heaving breathing that did nothing to cover the distinctive sound of flesh on flesh.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

You’d forgotten to shut off the ‘fresher light. It was a flickering old light that made your face look like it had been out of the sun for two decades, but it was enough to show you that the enormous durasteel wall plate you’d stumbled into was in fact a thigh guard. And said thigh guard was still attached to its wearer but was not protecting anything except Mando’s ankles.

He was holding himself in one hand, helmet still on. You stuttered:

“Wow. Errm, I mean – I’m sorry.”

Not waiting for an answer, you took a step backward, closed your eyes and made a hasty retreat.

You lay in the cot, waiting to fall back asleep. You’d felt so tired just seconds before and now sleep was eluding you. The image was seared in your brain.

It had been long since you’d had a good fuck. You’d been building up so much financial stress that you hadn’t even found your release by yourself in months. You guessed it was all backfiring now. Remembering the sinful sounds Mando had made, you felt a heat coiling deep inside you.

You risked a hand between your legs. Okay, you had a problem there. You were wet. Not just damp. You were soaking through your underwear. You brought your fingers to you nose; they had the definite smell of sex.

Would you be able to finally pleasure yourself on a stranger’s ship far away from Nevarro?

You wanted it so badly. You were burning up, pressing your thighs together to relieve the pressure. But the thing was, the owner of this spaceship had lent you his cot. People did not get off in other people’s bed, that was your implicit rule of hospitality. Especially not when you knew you’d make a mess with how wet you were.

Just a touch, you decided. A quick rub of your lady parts would not do wrong, right? You leaned backwards until your back was pressed against the metal wall and you slid a hand under your sleep pants, circling the tender area with the tip of your fingers.

You still saw Mando under your closed eyes. You tried to focus on your past adventures but Mando’s helmet kept coming back until it was him you imagined riding on your small bed back in Nevarro, making the erotic sounds you’d heard tonight. You let out an unvoluntary moan. You couldn’t stop now, you felt your whole body tingling and burning, you began to see stars, white stars, everything was brighter –

Your eyes flew open at the brightly lit torch brandished towards your face from the end of the cot. Fuck fuck fuck. In your haste to flee, you’d forgotten to close down the hatch and now Mando himself was standing still, looking directly at you, the torch in his left hand.

He was not moving but you swore he looked amused. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die, and at the same time you felt incredibly wanton and powerful with your legs spread apart and the glow you knew was on your face.

“I heard my name,” Mando whispered.

His voice was hoarse and heavy, and you felt your insides clench at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. The air between you was thick.

“Don’t be,” he replied. Then he looked at you, looking like he was debating something internally. “May I?”

The pronounced static of his breathing, the expectant posture – you felt your head buzzing at the implication. It meant one thing.

“Yes.” Your voice was breathy, but you didn’t care.

The two of you were too big for the bunk, especially since Mando still had his full armour on, but you didn’t mind the way his body pressed against yours in all pleasant ways.

“Let me,” he groaned, once he was fully inside the bunk, …

You stilled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. Slowly, so slowly, he placed his right hand in your inner thigh, fingers hovering over the soft skin. Every place he touched you, you burned.

You reached to grasp the helmet but he caught your hand, staring hard into your eyes. You resolved to closing your eyes and slide your hand under the fabric of his shirt, smiling when you caressed the warmth underneath.

So there were taut muscles and soft skin behind the shiny beskar.

You’d lost your way in the numbers and figures, it seemed, in the cold facts of mathematics and the harsh reality of financial fraud. All those years alone had not been easy and you’d forgotten what it was like to be held by a soulful touch. You could almost cry. The night was tender and warm and you felt like melting into Mando while he melted into you, two lives meeting in the corner of the universe, on a planet graced by tragedies and hope alike.

There was no undressing for him. He’d made it clear that the helmet would stay on, and neither of you bothered to remove the rest of his clothes. He sighed deeply when you bit the fingers of his gloves and removed them with your teeth, revealing two hands that looked and felt sun-kissed.

You lazily removed your sleep clothes, keeping your eyes fixed on the helmet, and it felt like your gaze was locked with his even though you couldn’t see behind the black visor. You threw your underwear in a bundle, the fire in your body urging you to feel him ever closer. The plates of metal poked into your skin, cold and unforgiving but you couldn’t care less. If this was the price to pay to keep him close, then you’d willingly pay it.

The rush of the cocktail of hormones felt like drugs in your foggy brain. You were in the middle of draping your left leg over his waist when all movement slowed and stopped. Time was suspended; only the heavy static behind the beskar helmet and your own wrecked breath cut the silence and the electricity buzz of the landed spaceship.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you. You knew you wanted to press your mouth against his and taste his lips. But you knew it couldn’t happen. He knew it too. There was a shimmer of hope, then it died down as your leg finished its graceful arch in the air and you settled yourself over him, hot and heavy under your hips.

You felt the desire in your veins, and there was raw longing in the way he murmured your name over and over again while he buried himself inside you.

Maybe the last few years had been harsh and loveless for you, but it seemed that Mando had decided to make it all up on his own. Why you would at last find true passion in the hands of a seasoned bounty hunter, you didn’t know. You couldn’t contain your wanton moaning, lost in the haze of the moment. If he was as fierce in battle as he was in his love - and it looked like he was -, then you would not be able to fight back if he demanded your heart. You would gladly surrender right there, right now…

You felt the sweat gathering on your face. There was urgency in your movements, and you felt your own muscles tightening deliciously.

Cyar’ika, cyar’ika, cyar’ika…

Mando whispered the words into your shoulders as you felt his body tense under yours.

You couldn’t understand them, yet you couldn’t miss the depth of their meaning. You pressed a thousand kisses on his helmet, cradling him in your arms, rocking quicker as you readied yourself for him to shatter and explode into your embrace. Cyar’ika, cyar’ika…

 You couldn’t understand these words, but I could.

You and I were chatting amiably in the cantina of some random planet he happened to have a bounty on. I could tell that the flush on your face was caused by both the cocktail swirling in your glass and the feelings you so obviously had towards the beskar-clad warrior.

Maybe it was the need for female company. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system. Maybe you thought you found a friend in me. But you poured your heart out to me, maybe hoping I would somehow understand your feelings and encourage you to act on them.

I didn’t tell you that I last travelled with the Mandalorian of your story a little more than six months ago. I couldn’t bring myself to it.

You didn’t understand the pet names he gave you, but I did, because he’d called me this way too.

I’d done everything you did.

I’d met the Mandalorian a different way, him looking for a doctor for a festered wound that did not heal. His desperate sighs when I applied bacta patches beneath the armour had compelled me to stay on his ship.

I’d laughed and cried and moaned on the Crest just like you. I’d been under crossfire more than once, I’d tended to his wounds, I’d made the calculations to jump to hyperspace while he was asleep, tired from a day of bounty-hunting and a night of love-making.

We’d spent hours discovering each other’s bodies while the Crest floated somewhere between the stars. I’d seen the heavens, shuddering beneath him, breathy sighs saturating the air. I’d waited for him to come back every day, touching myself on the pilot’s seat and wishing for the comfort of his strong arms.

But life on the Razor Crest was too lonely for me. After a while, I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I needed company, friends to share a meal with. I missed evenings with my family, cooking together our trademark roast chicken recipe inherited from my maternal grandmother. I missed the silly games we played with my little cousins; our faces distorted in grimaces as we imitated HoloNet celebrities. I also missed my friends’ laughs, my first crush’s hazel eyes, my best friend’s freckled face. My home planet was only a short hyperspace drive from here, yet it felt like I was worlds and worlds away.

Behind the shiny beskar and the hard muscles, I could only see a lifetime of worry and loneliness. How in the galaxy could I ever belong there, in that tin can in the middle of nothingness? I needed the warmth of the sun, the smell of the earth and the promise of a happy life.

So I’d left before I could fall in love and get hurt. I gave him back the pendant you now wore between your breasts. I’d tried to ignore the way his shoulders hunched as I packed my bag. I left without looking back, my chin held high, half hoping he’d notice the tears on my face and beg me to come back.

You looked happy; he deserved you. You picked up your watch and I read the surprise on your face. “Already? I have to go, he’s picking me up here and we leave in a half-hour.”  You packed your bags hurriedly, the flush lingering on your cheeks and I smiled at your apologies for leaving so soon. You thanked me profusely for my quiet companionship.

  Then I heard it clearly. The velvety voice from my memories, the deep “Let’s go”, the clanking of the armour. It seemed that my body had not forgotten either and I felt myself uncomfortably pressing my thighs together. The memories started to flood my mind because I remembered everything and now I realized how much I missed –

How happy I –

How passionate he –

  But this was a path I’d chosen not to take.

[darkredehmption]

Convergence

***

Zsadist:

[My nightmares were getting the best of me. It was getting so bad that at one point I was barely getting any sleep. Every time I closed my eyes my demons came out to play. Taunting me and making me feel like I was nothing. I tried my best to not think about it too much, but as of lately I was just in my head. Which didn’t help on nights like tonight when I was on rotation. I needed to stay focused. Then again, getting smacked around a bit might do me good. My attention is drawn to my twin when I feel a nudge to my arm. “You okay?” His golden eyes found my own.]

Yeah. Just was thinking about something. [Or someone. I couldn’t get Malys out of my head. Phury even gave him a number to contact in case his Mahmen wanted to meet the Chosens, and no text or call. Nothing. My brows draw in and I suddenly get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. What if something happened to him and he didn’t make it home safe?

Shaking the thoughts from my head as I watch Butch move over to us with Vishous close behind. Then we all move in unison down the street. Cop gave an uneasy look which told me that the enemy was nearby. “Z…Let Cop lead the way.” Eyeing Vishous as I try to stay focused. I felt like a caged animal. Desperate for a fight or more so to get hit a few times. I was disgusting but I needed this. The hits would make me feel...alive.

Butch moves forward, directing us towards a large group of lessers that luckily had no civilians. It was so much easier to handle a situation without any hostages. I couldn’t help it though. Once I saw them I charged. I heard a brother holler at me but I didn’t look back. The lessers all snapped their heads up at once and came straight for me. The Brothers did manage to catch up but that didn’t stop the one that lunged for me. I felt a hit to my side then a blow to the face that sent shivers down my spine. Yes. This is exactly what I needed. Ignoring the weapons I could use on the fucker, instead I started throwing punches. Remembering when I got to spar with Malys. The thought sidetracks me and I earn a hit to my jaw that causes me to stumble back.

Growling loudly as I ram my body forward, practically knocking the fucker down to the ground. Grabbing ahold of him as I pound my fist into the enemy’s face over and over again. Black blood splattering out, coating his face so it was barely recognizable. I was crazed and nothing could stop me in this moment. There was a ringing in my ears that caused me to block out everything. Completely oblivious to anything that was going on around me. Giving one last punch that cracks the lesser’s head back. In one swift movement I unsheathe my dagger and stabs it right into his sweet spot to send the fucker back to the omega. When the flash of light forms I lift my head.

And that’s when I see another lesser pointing a gun straight at my head. How did I not sense him there? My golden eyes go wide and suddenly I heard everything around me. The sounds of my Brothers grunting and punches being thrown. Even my name being screamed from across the alley. Then there was a sound that was unfamiliar to me. A flapping sound that came with a gust of wind. Was this it? Did I finally come to my end? The last thing I heard was the sound of the trigger being pulled and the gun firing.]

Mal:

The wind howled around me as I looked down over the city, gleaming like a jewel even at this midnight hour. My feathers dragged in the breeze, eager to ride it, but even as my mind argued it was time to leave, something else kept me locked in place.

My backpack hung between my wings, an easy weight as I drew in a deep breath of city air and let it out slowly. Strapped to my thigh was a silver blade, and my belt had a nine mil tucked in the back. The shotgun with rock salt shells I’d been rocking to deal with a poltergeist (thanks, Sam; so /not/ a cursed object…) I’d stowed away in the pack.

Without meaning too, I let my mind reach out. There were times I could control it; sense a house and its occupants, sense a demon on the move, but this time it happened without my giving thought to it. One minute I was on the rooftop, the night sky beckoning, the next I was immersed in the city, in the scream of cab horns and the laughter of drunken revellers moving to their next venue. As I left the brighter streets behind, the seedy underbelly greeted me, and like an arrow with a target my mind zeroed in.

Demons.

My breath caught as I took a step toward the ledge, ready to leap, when the sense refined itself further. Not demons…

Lessers.

The black blooded creatures were moving fast, and with a start I felt not just their darkness, but the light of other things. Other people.

The Brothers.

I leapt off the building, my wings beating hard as I let my mind lead me closer. Surely, they had it under control. Centuries of fighting, they were warriors of another calibre. But then…

“Zsadist…”

I breathed his name into the night as his spark, his light, registered so much brighter. He was there, but he was… distracted. The Lesser he fought was the weaker of the problems. With an unrelenting rage and ferocity he moved to dispatch his foe, even as I drew level from above, the visions of light and dark in my mind merging with what my eyes could see. The auras of the Brothers shone, even as the dark clouds that opposed them tried to take over, smother their light.

I saw the other Lesser so clearly now, saw him raise the weapon as Zsadist came back to reality. Those golden eyes widened.

But I was already falling.

I couldn’t hit the Lesser; not this time. The gun would still discharge. The Brother would still be shot. Those golden eyes forever dimmed. My gut clenched in fear at the idea.

I landed by the Brother and threw my wings wide as I snarled. The gun fired. I felt a brief burst of pain. Then my own gun was up. I fired, and the bullet found its mark. The Lesser dropped as I panted, seething. He’d thought to kill this Brother? Fuck. No. Not on my damn watch.

Turning, I met those golden eyes. Still bright. Still alive and vital. My relief was exquisite, though his shock was moderately entertaining. I managed a rueful grin before inclining my head. Then I was pivoting again, bringing my weapon up to take aim as the remaining Lessers started to scatter.

Zsadist:

[I was ready to accept my fate. Knowing that this would be it for me. Then in one moment it all changed. Someone swooped down, standing in front of me as a shield from the lesser. And that’s when I noticed the wings. The huge black wings that spread out in front of me, blocking me from watching the scene unfold. What. The. Fuck. I couldn’t help but just stand there in total shock. My feet were cemented to the floor, only to loosen when I watched the bullet hit one of the mystery angel’s wings. NO! Why the fuck would this male take a bullet for me? The hell...My thoughts are cut off when his head turns to reveal Malys.

My jaw goes slack, eyes burning bright as they lock onto the male I thought I’d never see again. Fuck. So I wasn’t crazy that night. He did have wings. Which explained so much. No wonder the halfbreed didn’t heal as fast as he should when under our care. Why the fuck didn’t Lassiter tell anyone about this? I could kill the fucking angel. Fucker probably thought it was funny.

With a snort I’m brought back to reality when Malys starts to take on any lesser that comes his way. And I move right in beside him to do much of the same. We moved in perfect unison, almost like a dance. It was like we’ve been fighting alongside each other for years. I was unaware of anything else around me. Hell I didn’t even know what the fuck my Brothers were doing. All I saw was Malys moving with me as we took down the lessers in front of us.

My golden eyes narrow as I watch one come up behind him. The enemy reached for his wings and before he could grab at the feathers I grabbed him. Tugging him back only to sink my fangs into his throat. I couldn’t help the animalistic side of me that came out. No one was going to hurt this male in front of me anymore. Not on my watch.

My head thrashing back and forth as I tear open the lesser’s throat. Black blood splattering on my face, but I didn’t care. Pulling back, I spit out a piece of flesh before I reach around to stab him in the chest. Watching the flash of light before I lift my head to study Malys. My brows draw in as I see the blood dripping from his wing. Scrubbing my hand over my mouth to wipe off the enemy’s blood as I move forward. All I saw was him.]

Mal:

The world faded into the background. I knew there were other Brothers there, fighting, but they were a secondary concern as Zsadist and I moved like a unit, dispatching anything that came close. I sensed the Lesser approaching at my back, reaching for my injured wing, but before I could even contemplate a countermove the male was there, tearing it to pieces as I put a round in the brain base of the Lesser I was holding.

Looking up from the ruins of the skull at my feet, I locked eyes on the two Lessers still lingering at the mouth of the alley. My eyes lit, silvery white power filling me from within. I flared my one good wing wider, the other dragging, as I bared my fangs and snarled. Behind me, a Lesser popped into non-existence with a burst of light. They both turned and ran.

And as much as I wanted to go after them, I instead took a breath and shuddered, letting the power go. I could feel eyes on me, and I didn’t need to turn my head to know it was the Brothers this time. Instead I looked to Zsadist. As if on cue, the tendon injured by the bullet in my wing snapped, the limb dropping to hang down my back and drag along the pavement. I gave it a dismissive glance, folding the working side tighter to my back.

The male was spattered in black ichor, his chest heaving up and down after the exertion. But, thankfully, uninjured. I actually let out a breath at how relieved I was.

“You’ve got a little something here…” I said dryly, tapping the corner of my lip, the male’s face all but covered by the Lesser blood. “And have you lost your fucking mind?”

One of the other Brothers snorted. It might’ve been Phury. But considering the rueful expressions they were all sporting, like they agreed with my assessment, I couldn’t be sure. The golden eyed Brother before me had clearly been rocking that ‘loose canon’ vibe.

Zsadist:

[If my Brothers weren’t around right now I would have hugged the male that just risked his life for me. Speaking of my Brothers, one glance at them and I saw total shock and confusion on their faces. Vishous muttered something as he lit a blunt before going to check on cop, who was dealing with the aftermath of inhaling lessers. Phury steps forward almost mesmerized by the wings as my gaze meets Malys’s once again. When he makes a crack at me I scrub my hand over my mouth to wipe off more of the black blood.]

Shouldn’t I be saying the same to you? Jumping in front of a gun like that….again. [Shaking my head.] And here I thought I had a death wish. Turns out it was you. The fuck you doing? [My brows draw in.] You…[What? Scared me? Sure did. Made me feel something? Yup. I couldn’t handle this. Trying to take in deep breaths, I turn to pace a little. Ignoring anyone around me as I just stay in my head for a moment. Finally my head snaps to my twin.]

So...he’s coming back with us so we can patch that up. [My hand gestures towards the fucking wing. Scribe. How did I not know? Phury raises both brows then just nods slowly as his eyes stay trained on me. I couldn’t look at Malys. If I did I was afraid of what I would do. So instead I move over to Vishous and offered to bring the SUV around. Butch wasn’t looking so hot.

When I turned with the keys in hand, I catch a glimpse at the angel. My jaw clenches and I felt a tightening in my chest. What the fuck was wrong with me? Practically running out of the alley to retrieve the car that was parked a few blocks down. I couldn’t believe what he just did...Where the hell did he come from and how did he know where we were? My head was full of questions as I bring the car over to the Brothers. Getting out to watch V help cop into the passenger’s seat. “So...we are bringing him back...again?” I eyed the diamond eyed Brother and just nodded once. He tosses his blunt onto the asphalt, stomping it out with a boot before getting into the driver’s seat. That was my cue to finally talk to the male again.

Turning around to face him, I eye Phury as he clamps a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. When I step forward towards the angel the Brother moves to talk to Vishous. Basically saying that he was going to dematz back to let Wrath know what was doing. Great. Lifting my gaze to Malys, my lips twitch before I speak.]

You are gonna come back with us and...um...we are going to patch you up. [My brows draw in as I eye the wing. Wondering how long it would take for it to heal.]

Mal:

Phury looked at me with a whole new light; I had to wonder how many /more/ questions he had for my mahmen now that he’d seen me rocking a set of wings. As Zsadist scrubbed at his face, my attention was irrevocably pulled back to him. At the question, I shrugged, holstering my piece, waiting for him to finish. Only he didn’t. His sentence trailed off and I frowned as he turned and stalked away, shoulders tense.

I looked to Phury, but he just shook his head fractionally and moved toward his twin. Biting back my frustration, I looked away, instead watching as the diamond eyed Brother helped my fellow non-dematting halfbreed, Butch. The male looked like he’d been sucking down bottles of ipecac and was ready to upchuck all over the place.

Zsadist’s question forced me to glance over, my mind churning and my gut backflipping as I tried to process ‘why’ I was so bothered by the male avoiding me. I mean, sure, I’d saved his ass, but I’d done that for plenty of people through my life and never once wanted to grab them and shake them afterward. Maybe it was the disappointment. The Brother clearly had made his decision when he hadn’t bothered to see me off. N’ now here I was, rocking his situation again and forcing him to acknowledge me.

Frowning at the pavement, I glanced back at the wing. With a bit of sunlight I was looking at a day, maybe two, of recovery. There was zero chance of me using it to take off right now, much as I might like to. As the vampires hustled around me to get their shit in gear, loading Butch into the SUV, I looked up as Zsadist approached, locking down my facial expressions to a calm ‘whatever’.

Inclining my head politely at his words, I moved toward the car, my wing trailing in the dirt and debris of the alley.

“I’ll need to be in the trunk,” I said coolly, the irony not lost on me. “Again. My wings won’t fit in the seats or sitting.”

I popped the back as I reached the SUV, not acknowledging Zsadist as I paused and concentrated. So far, I’d been ignoring the aching stab of pain from the wound, too distracted by the golden eyed male, but the muscles around it clenched and spasmed. Now, as I tried to fold the wing up, to fit it into the car, I couldn’t help a small grunt and gasp of pain. The agony shot from my wing to my spine. I curled my fingers around the tailgate then forced myself to climb in, turning sideways. My good wing hit the roof and fanned out at the back, while the bad one lay limply down my back and onto the carpet, staining it red.

Crouched in the back like an animal, bleeding all over their shit not for the first time but the second, I felt a faint flush of embarrassment. How was this my life? What the fuck was I doing?

“Let’s do this,” I muttered, avoiding looking at Zsadist in favour of turning my gaze toward Vishous. The Brother seemed to regard everything with an almost clinical stare, and I could do with a little distance right now as opposed to the emotions ripping me up whenever I looked at Zsadist.

Zsadist:

[There was a lot of emotions coming off of the angel. He seemed angry with me and why shouldn’t he be? Though I was still so puzzled why he came to my rescue. Why did he put himself through that...for me? Lifting my head to watch his sad walk to the back of the SUV. I took a step forward as if I was going to join him, only to pause when the trunk closes. I wanted to scream. Gritting my teeth as I hear the demons in the back of my head, taunting me. Scrubbing both hands over my skull trim head before I move into the Escalade.

Once inside I eye Vishous in the rear view mirror. I couldn’t help but notice the Brother giving me a look. Then he cracks a small grin. Blinking as I rip my gaze away from him, feeling the car pull out and drive off. The ride was silent until I heard a few groans from Butch. V immediately eyes him, reaching a hand out to grip his arm. He murmurs low to the male. Telling him basically that he will heal him once they are back at the pit. Even though my eyes were trained forward, I could feel the angel’s stare burning into the back of my skull. His fresh blood was all I could smell. And I wanted to so badly to comfort him in the same way my Brothers just did for each other, but I couldn’t.

What was doing with me? Why was I so fucked up? “Z…” My head snaps back quickly to look at Malys behind me. Though he wasn’t the one who called my name. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him before I turn my attention towards my twin who was sitting beside me. Those golden eyes looked at me sadly. My brows draw in and I murmur barely.]

I’m fine. [Hoping that Malys didn’t hear me. Phury nods slowly then gazes out of the window. I let in a deep breath, listening to the sound of the angel’s heart beating in the quiet car ride. It fluttered strong which was a good sign. Not that I thought he was going to bleed out in the back of the van. When we arrive, I watch Vishous practically run out to get Butch out and help him into the pit. Leaving just my twin, Malys, and I in the car. Phury lingers but I break the silence.]

Brother I got this. I’ll take him to the PT Suite. Though he probably just needs some sun which can happen in a few hours. [My eyes trained on the seat in front of me as I spoke.] You can let Wrath know we have a visitor. I’m sure he will be thrilled. [My twin was a little hesitant to leave, but eventually he does leaving just myself and the angel in the car. The silence drags on before I move to get out. When I pop open the trunk, my eyes meet his. I get that tightness in my chest again as I eye his injured wing. Slowly I stretch out my arm. Holding my hand out for him to take, if he would. I couldn’t help but eye the slave band that peeked out of my sleeve.]

Mal:

In much closer proximity, I changed my mind about Butch; the Brother didn’t look like he was going to be sick, he looked like he had the mutant baby virus of ebola and swine flu. If I didn’t know better about vampires getting sick, I’d have lifted my shirt over my nose. Then probably have Vishous break my jaw. Ahh well. Couldn’t be worse than the pain in my wing. Or my chest…

The Brothers didn’t bother with the blindfold schtick this time. Whether it was my saving Zsadist’s life, saving Chosen lives, or the wings, I couldn’t tell you, but they drove on up the highway back to the mansion and I half heartedly paid attention, too distracted by looking at Zsadist, not looking at Zsadist, and trying not to move my wing with the motion of the car. Whatever talk that happened was minimal, Vishous checking on Butch, and Phury having a hushed conversation with his brother up front.

By the time we arrived, I’d started to count the threads in the car seats, but watching Vishous collect Butch from the Escalade and half carry him off down the hall distracted me from my own desire to escape the vehicle. When Zsadist spoke again, I almost jumped.

Eyes flicking between the pair, I take in the back and forth without bothering to get out. One, because I was weary of moving my wing and letting it drag unnecessarily, and two… I was curious. About their dynamic. About this place. About the male that had to take a breath and hold a minute before finally coming to the back of the car and popping the door. I looked at the hand he held out to me, surprised that he was offering it after seeming to avoid me since I dropped from above.

When I reached out to take it, a spark shot up my arm. But I didn’t let go.

Using his grip to slip out of the SUV, I grimaced as my wing dropped, the muscles shrieking at being stretched and pulled with a bullet somewhere inside.

“Could you…” I took a breath and did a metaphorical grab of my sack and hardened up. “…carry my wing, please? I can’t lift it. The muscles are torn,” I admitted gruffly, trying to look anywhere but those golden eyes. “And I kind of can’t reach it myself…”

Though I definitely felt a little bad about getting blood all over the male, again, it kind of worked with the still black smeared face he was rocking, so… win?

“I’m curious though how your med staff are going to handle me. This. When was the last time they pretended to be vets?” I muttered, biting my lip as the male’s hands, so used to slaughtering Lessers, lifted and cradled my damaged wing with such care.

Zsadist:

[When his hand reached for my own, I couldn’t help but feel that spark again. But this time he doesn’t pull away. Why doesn’t he? He found me disgusting, yes? So he should be pulling away from me. My eyes lock onto his own, brows drawing in when the angel asked me to hold his wing up. The one he used to protect me from a bullet. My hands move slowly, grabbing the injured wing with the softest touch I could manage. I couldn’t help but let my fingers move through the feathers. It felt so nice. Closing my eyes for a brief moment before I focus on walking down the tunnels.]

Will sunlight heal you? [Eying the wound that was dripping with blood.] If not I..I can try to patch it up. I mean...how serious is it? [Why was I such a mess always in front of this male? I couldn’t help this awkwardness around him. Ever since the first time we met, I felt something that I never have before and I wasn’t quite sure just what that was.

Once at the door of the PT suite, I will it open before moving inside the room with him. The staff was nowhere to be found, but I could get them in an instant if needed. Here we were again. Only this time he was awake and had a giant pair of wings. My lips twitch at the thought before I moved to grab some supplies from the cabinet. Needing to keep busy so I wouldn’t stare at him.]

Tell me. Why did you come to the alley? And how? How did you know I was there with my Brothers? It’s like you knew I was about to get…[Trailing off as I close the drawer in front of me. Clutching the gauze in my hand as I try to focus on the task at hand. But I couldn’t. I was an absolute mess and I didn’t want him to see it. Lifting my head slowly, taking in a deep breath.]

Why didn’t you tell me what you were? [Closing my eyes, but all I could see was those wings. Shit. And there was that tightness in my chest. Turning slowly to face the angel. Searching his eyes before I moved towards him. My hand reaches out, gently landing on his injured wing.]

Mal:

Reaching the med wing, I take a seat on the gurney, letting the male potter around to gather whatever he wanted. Hopefully a shot of morphine was part of the supplies. I wasn’t bothered by the lack of staff; if the male wanted to play nurse that was kind of alright with me. Besides, it was keeping his hands busy and his eyes occupied. All the better to watch him as I ignored the pulsing throb of my wing.

“It’ll heal in sunlight once the bullet is out,” I admit. “Though I probably shouldn’t fly on it for a day or so. The tendons need time to strengthen.” Clever of the male to already deduce that sunlight was the key to my restoration. I mean, their resident angel must’ve offered some insight, and my sneaking around the last time I was here probably helped some.

At his questions I can’t help but sigh. In for a penny, in for a pound I suppose. I’d made the call to reveal my nature when I’d used my wing as a flesh and blood shield for this male. Could I really stop now?

“I can sense demons,” I admit gruffly, looking down. “I ended up staying in town for a job and I was getting ready to leave tonight. When I sensed the Lessers… I also sensed you. I was flying to you before I even knew what I was doing…” I trailed off, shrugging, the action causing another wince as my wing objected and the other rustled against the gurney. “Can you honestly blame me for not wanting to say anything? There’s nothing else like me,” I point out dryly. “My mahmen feared her whole life that I’d be shunned. Rejected. Hunted.”

Sighing, I shook my head and looked down. “But I couldn’t… not… save you. I don’t know what it was but the thought of those golden eyes never taking in the world again…” Taking in me… “...well, I did what I did.”

Zsadist:

[My golden eyes grow wide as I hear the male’s words. I couldn’t hold back the growl that formed in my chest.] You will not be rejected or hunted. Not on my watch. [Gritting my teeth as I set the supplies down. How could this male think he was some sort of freak? I mean...has he met me? Snorting at the thought as I reach for his wing again, inspecting the wound before I meet his gaze.]

Do you want me to numb it with a shot? Or you okay for me to just pull it out? [My fingers twitched against his feathers. I couldn’t help but think about all that he said. Maybe I got him wrong before. Then why did he pull back in the gym? Dropping my head, keeping my eyes trained on his wound.]

You drive me crazy. You know that? [I admit as my hands moved to grab an alcohol pad, carefully running it over the bullet hole.] One moment I think you find me repulsive and the next you are saying shit like that. [Tossing the bloody gauze away as I try not to lose it in front of him. I couldn’t give him more reasons to see how much a freak I was. Gripping the sides of the gurney.]

Thank you for doing what you did. I owe you a lot. [My life apparently. Lifting my gaze to the male. There was that spark again, except it was all over. Along with the tightness in my chest.] Seems like fate brought you back again...if you were smart you would stay and consider the program. Just saying. [Why did I want him to stay so much? I mean...he was a great fighter. Clearly doing way better than me.]

Mal:

“If you have a shot, I’ll take it,” I shrug. “I don’t know if you’ve ever had wings, but they can be very sensitive in some places,” I add dryly, shaking my head and looking at the floor.

At his words though, the confession that I drive him crazy, my head snapped up. My eyes were wide in shock, and I couldn’t seem to find the muscles to get my facial features under control as I stared at him. For the first time since being shot, I was oblivious to the bullet wound, even after he’d cleaned the area with alcohol.

“Repulsed?” I echoed, my tone containing every bit of disbelief I possessed. “Why would I… because of the gym?” I asked, barely constructing sentences that would pass a fifth grade English lesson. But I was lost for words. Of all the things I’d felt around this male, being repulsed or disgusted never even came close to the list.

Waving off the training program crap (cause, yeah, one thing at a time) I shifted forward on the gurney. “I pulled away from you at the gym because you shatter my defences,” I said quietly, trying to get that golden gaze to lock with my own, so he could see the truth in my eyes. “I’ve worked my whole life to hide what I am, who I am, and two minutes of rolling around on a mat with you and my divinity was nearly /there/,” I declared, clenching my jaw as I took a deep breath. “My wings… my eyes… I nearly lost control with you. /That/ is what you do to me, Zsadist,” I managed, leaning back slightly. “You take a lifetime’s worth of my hard earned self control and destroy it just by /looking/ at me.”

I wanted to scowl. I wanted to be mad. And a part of me was, but only with myself. That my defences had been so easily tested. That I held interest in a male that kept the world, it seemed, at arm’s length. Maybe that was all it was; like his King, he wanted me to be a trainee. A soldier. That was all.

…right?

“Was that why you didn’t see me when I left?” I whispered, watching him, trying to see the reaction in his eyes, the shift of those powerful shoulders. “You thought I was repulsed by you, so you stayed away? Is that the kind of male you think I am?” I pushed, latching onto his wrist and using the grip to pull him close. I turned his wrist in my hand, until his slave band had to be showing, but I never even looked down at it. “Do you think I’m bothered by those? That I would think less of you? Truly?”

And I realized it hurt. My chest ached that this male, this warrior, would think I’d spurned him because of his bands and his scar; that my withdrawal had been, to him, a condemnation and rejection.

Zsadist:

[I tried to look anywhere but his eyes. Though I failed at that. As I stared into them, I was lost for words. What could I say to him? Yeah. I thought he found me disgusting. And I don't mean that in a bad way. Just all my life I got accustomed to how people acted around me. I understood why they did. I had so much self hate for myself that I just accepted it all. Knowing that it was true. But he wasn’t looking at me like that. He just was someone like me where feelings and opening up didn’t come naturally.

Stiffening slightly as his hand clasped my arm. Tugging me forward, exposing the slave band on my wrist. Though he didn’t look at it. Just spoke on how it didn’t affect him and what he saw in me. None of it did.]

I…[My throat closes up and I struggle to form words. Shit. Why was I so bad at this?] Yes, I didn’t come see you cause I didn’t think you’d want to see me again. But that wasn’t the case...was it? [My wrist felt like it was on fire from his touch, though I didn���t want him to let go. Leaning in slightly as my voice dropped to a whisper.] If you only knew what you do to me. If only…

[Closing my eyes tightly. I couldn’t look at him anymore. It made my chest ache. The shot. Yes. He said he wanted one. Pulling away as I take in a breath, turning to retrieve the needle. I found it easily, but pretend to search around for a bit so I could get my shit together. This was all new to me. Is this how my Brother’s felt with their mates…? No...can’t be. I kept my eyes on the task at hand when I returned to the male. Carefully grabbing at his wing before I give him the shot. I needed to get this bullet out of him. As I set down the needle, I can’t help but open up.]

All my life...I’ve lived in darkness. Sure there was a time where I was even worse if you can imagine. I tried so hard to isolate myself from everything. Then my Brothers got me out of that...and it lasted for awhile. [My hands moved, reaching for the forceps. Leaning in as I grab at the bullet. My free hand dropping to his thigh as I pulled it free. Wanting him to know I was here if he needed me. The bullet came out easily and there wasn’t a lot of blood that followed. Which was a good sign. I rubbed at his thigh for a moment before I lifted my hand off to patch him up. Speaking once again.]

But then after awhile I felt the darkness return. They all found their happy with their mates. And they deserve it. Though I never felt like I did. Which is okay. I always told myself it wasn’t in my cards. That I’m…too much for anyone to handle. To want to be around me like that. [To love me...I finished in my head. There was no way I could say that out loud. Slowly I pulled away. The tightness in my chest returned and so did the demons.] You are all set…[My voice weak as I spoke.]

Mal:

I shook my head faintly at his question - that it wasn’t the case. I had wanted to see him again. And leaving without doing so… had held me bound to this city without even needing the poltergeist job. I wanted to know what I did to him. I /wanted/ it more than I’d wanted anything in a long time.

The needle in my wing, the removal of the bullet; I hardly felt either as I watched him, aware only of the stroke of his hand on my thigh, the way it sent heat running through me, soothed the wound better than any morphine.

Listening to his story, I felt the misery that he’d thought so poorly of me fade away. How could he not, when his own race had used him as a slave and treated him as something ‘less than’? He’d pulled himself out of it, with his Brothers and the families they had here, but to hear him say that he thought a mate, a lover, wasn’t a reality when he was too deeply scarred?

The spark that had leapt between us so often ignited. I had no idea if he’d be receptive, if he’d even appreciate it, but fuck it, the male had to know…

I seized his hand as he pulled away, drawing him back. Lifting both my hands to gently cup his cheeks, I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. He tasted like apples and steel; sweetness with strength. I felt him tense between my legs, in the cradle of my hands, and I reluctantly moved to pull back, my eyes opening.

“What do I do to you?” I breathed. I couldn’t let him go, our faces an inch apart as I searched his eyes. They weren’t the words I’d intended to say - something more along the lines of ‘you are worthy of love, and will be loved’ - but now that I’d spoken my question it was all I wanted to know. Did I make his heart race? Did I make him want more?

Did I make him wish and ache for me to stay? Because he did that to me. He was making me long to stay. To hold him like this again. Kiss him again. Prove that he wasn’t too much…

Zsadist:

[The angel pulled me in and I froze up. What came next I didn’t expect. He moved forward and planted his lips onto my own. There wasn’t a sense of disgust from him. The total opposite actually. He seemed to be enjoying it very much. As for me...it drove me crazy. Though I didn’t know quite how to react. What if I did something to turn him off? I mean hell...this was all new to me.

My hands fall to rest on the gurney, fingers curling around the edge of it. Holding on tightly as I take in the taste of the male. Even when his lips lifted off my own he didn’t pull back. He stayed nice and close to me. Then came the question. He wanted to know it all. I struggled at first. Taking a moment to think before I spoke. Suddenly realizing that my demons went quiet. Everything was quiet. I liked it.]

You...make everything feel good. And I’ve never felt that before. Ever. Hell I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling until I laid eyes on you. My heart? [Grabbing at his hand, placing it right on my chest so he could feel it beat for him.] It doesn’t just race...it wants to break free from my chest. Which by the way my chest tightens...like I long for you when you aren’t near. [Dropping my hand from his as I let out a snort.] When you left? I lost it...I lost control and been having nightmares every single night. [Did I even want to mention one of those times I called for him only to find Phury at my side. Shaking my head as I roll my shoulders.] I’ve only just met you and I can’t get you out of my head. That’s what you do to me. And fuck what I wouldn’t do to feel that spark every single day with you.

[Closing my eyes as my hands reach up to scrub roughly over my skull trim head. Why the fuck did I say all of that? Fuck! I couldn’t help it. It all just spilled out of and there was no turning back from it. As I take in a deep breath I couldn’t help but take in the scent of him and it was heavenly. No pun intended. Dropping my hands to the gurney once again. They shake as I try to grab onto something. He made me absolutely crazy. So much that I was afraid of what I might do if he were to leave again. No. He can’t go. I don’t think I could survive without him. Blinking at the thought, my head shifts barely to catch a glance at him. Almost like I was afraid of what he might do. What if he didn’t feel the same way about me?]

Mal:

I drank in his confession, a music to my ears that I’d never known I needed to hear. I’d had lovers before, hunters and humans alike, but they’d never made me feel like this. Like they were the sun and I was drifting into a new orbit. And I’d kissed the male /once/! I barely knew him. But I wanted to know him. All of him. And I only knew two words that would convey to him how badly I wanted it. More than I wanted to get back to the hunt.

“I’ll stay.”

The words left me on a whisper, but it was like a weight lifted off my chest as I said them. Relief washed through me as I watched him absorb them too, and then I was grinning, using the hand he’d placed against his chest to fist in his shirt and pull him closer again. Back to me. Back to my lips as I kissed him again, harder. Like I could pass on the giddy, elated vibes rocking my shit right now.

“Ow, fuck…”

I broke the kiss with the curse, my wings having lifted in the excitement and pulled at the fresh wound. Scowling, I shot the limb a mutinous glance then flicked my eyes back to Zsadist. He looked almost dazed, but his golden eyes were alive. So very alive. I found myself staring at them as I licked my lips.

“The sun will be up soon… I need to get outside,” I murmured regretfully, shifting to try and slide from the gurney. “I don’t suppose there are slings here? You can’t carry it outside for me. Then I guess… I’ll need to find a few gurneys down here to make a bed?” I muse ruefully, not presumptuous enough to invite myself into the manse. But I’d never tried to retract my wings with them injured. I honestly wasn’t sure I could.

Zsadist:

[I couldn’t help but let out a growl as the male tugged me in for a kiss that was way more passionate than the last. Totally getting lost in it, only to pull back when I hear him wince in pain. My brows draw in and I eye his wing. I hated the fact that he had to go outside. Yeah he was safe at the mansion, but what if something happens? I wouldn’t be able to come to his rescue. Grumbling at the thought as my head tilts to the side]

Be careful. [Looking around the PT suite before I let my eyes rest on the male’s again.] You can...sleep upstairs...in the mansion. [Hell Wrath might not like that, but how could I tell this male to sleep down here tonight. After he just not only saved my life but kissed me. Twice! My eyes focused on him as he slid off of the gurney. Hands outstretched incase I had to catch him. I hated that he was hurting and all because of me. Though I knew that he would be okay once he got some sun. Shifting out into the hallway with him, my eyes on his wings. I couldn’t get over them. They were breathtaking.]

I’ll talk to fritz about having him set up one of the guest rooms. You are...my guest. [My lips twitch at that before my eyes lifted to search his own.] Why don’t you follow me up and go out through the front door that way he can greet you when you come back inside, true? Speaking of...do you need me to carry your wing again?

[Was it an excuse to touch him again? Maybe. Did I really need an excuse? Not really. Snorting at the thought before I move to do it anyway. My fingers move through the feathers as I incline my head.] Head straight down that hallway. I got you.

[Hell I did have him. I couldn’t help but hear his words in my head over and over again. He was going to stay, but what did that mean? Stay and fight with us? Stay and...kiss me some more? My chest rumbles at the thought of that.]

Mal:

I was glad for the support as the male moved in, regardless of the question, and lifted my injured wing. A little sunlight and I’d at least, hopefully, be able to move the wing myself. If the tendons and muscles could just… knit themselves back together a touch, I could raise it to my back once more.

“A guest of the Brother Zsadist,” I murmured as we moved toward the door as one, smothering a wry grin. “I feel so important.”

I flashed him a teasing smile, the hall, a locked door and another tunnel passing in a blur until we were back in the mansion part of the grounds once more. The impressive entryway gleamed around us, but I had eyes only for the Brother as he helped me to the front door. Then the doggen appeared. He looked particularly aggrieved at my injured state, and if my wings surprised him, I couldn’t tell. Unflappable was most definitely the word to describe him.

“Masters, may I be of aid? The shutters have come down, I would hate for the my Lords to be caught out in the sun.”

Shooting Zsadist a bemused look, I shook my head.

“Thanks, my man, but I need the sunlight to heal. If you could let me back in though when I’m done, that’d be sweet,” I add, flashing him a big smile.

Doggen amused me. Don’t ask me why. They were a surreal thing, since I’d never known even one before this place and its warriors and halls of marble statues.

Zsadist:

[When we arrived upstairs the Doggen was already there to greet us. I swear Fritz always knew just about everything that was going on in the mansion. Slowly my hands dropped from the angel’s wing. Wishing I could help him outside without getting burnt to a crisp. Though my eyes never left him until the vestibule door was closed. Letting out a sigh as I turn my attention back towards the Doggen.]

He is my guest and will be heading upstairs after for some much needed rest. Please...make sure he is okay out there. If you need me, let me know. [Fritz smiled wide before bowing his head. “Of course, Sire. I’ll make sure he finds his way back inside.” With that said he heads off. But I couldn’t help myself from looking back at the closed door.

After a few moments I find myself heading up the grand staircase. I couldn’t get the angel out of my head. What if he needed me once he got back inside…? Scrubbing a hand over my skull trim as I make my way to my bedroom. Hell is this what it felt like to...care for another? I was fucked. That was for sure.

Once inside I’m greeted by the black cat that took up residence in my room. His body moved between my legs as I quickly made my way to the bathroom. I needed to just shower and wash the night off me then catch a few z’s. Hopefully with the male here in the mansion, I wouldn’t have any nightmares tonight.]

[asamisaht0]

A Series of Firsts

Here’s my piece for the Zutara Exchange! @zutaraexchange

My giftee is @beealexageek I hope you like it! I combined “pregnant”, “first kiss”, and a tiny bit of “wedding” for the prompts.

Wordcount: 2k

Pairing: Zuko/Katara 

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808570

The first time Zuko kissed Katara -or, technically, Katara kissed him- they were in an alley behind some seedy Earth Kingdom bar. They were tipsy, too close, and still teenagers. Katara still held her cup in her hand, though she had long since lost interest in its contents. Zuko was just beginning to realize the full weight of being Fire Lord and he had desperately needed a break. Uncle Iroh, in typical Uncle Iroh fashion, had conveniently (almost too conveniently) invited the whole gang back to the earth kingdom for the grand re-opening of the Jasmine Dragon the week later. Something about a brand new tea recipe. Whatever. They managed to escape the group and ended up at a bar, watching the Earth Kingdom locals entertain themselves now that they were free of Fire Nation rule. They each had had a drink, maybe two, and Katara suddenly decided the bar was too stuffy. “I can’t breathe in here. Let’s go outside?” she had said. Something along those lines. They decided to loiter in the alley behind the bar, because it was close but secluded. 

Katara took one more sip of her drink, mostly because Zuko had paid for it and she didn’t want to waste his money. He seemed to sense that, and scoffed. “Don’t worry about it. The Fire Nation has more money than we’ll ever need.” His words seemed a little more slurred than usual. Maybe it was just the background noise. “Still. I appreciate it, Zuko. Thanks for everything.” She didn’t quite know what she meant by that. What did “everything” encompass? Thanks for helping Aang save the world? Thanks for turning the Fire Nation back into a respectable entity? Thanks for taking a literal lightning bolt to the chest for her? Somehow, “thanks” just didn’t seem like enough. He smiled. Their eyes met. He looked back down. Zuko sighed and brushed his hand through his hair. Katara was confused. “What’s wrong?”

Zuko looked back up at her, then frowned at the contents of his cup. “I just- um. I really want to kiss you right now.” She blinked. “So….what’s stopping you?” she meant to think, but somehow ended up saying it out loud. Oh well. His eyes shot back up. His head kind of tilted, like when a dog hears a noise they don’t quite understand. Katara’s brain took about .002 seconds to make up its mind. She lifted up on her toes and kissed Zuko before either of them could change their minds. Later, she’d say something poetic like “he tasted like smoke and spices” or whatever. But right now? He tasted like the bottom of whatever barrell their drinks came out of.

The first time Zuko realized he was in love with Katara, she was teaching him how to pack snow into the holes of his igloo to help keep the warmth in. “No, Zuko,” she had said. “You can’t just start a fire inside a house made of ice that’s literally the opposite of productive right now,” she had said. They were in the Southern Water Tribe, solidifying arrangements for Katara to be the official ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe and hold a seat on Zuko’s council.

Honestly, Zuko would have done anything if it meant he got to see Katara every day. The idea of her actually living in the palace made him downright giddy. Giddy enough that he was willing to spend nights in a house made of literal ice in order to ensure he got to spend more time with Karara.

She turned around to make sure he was comprehending her lessons. Spoiler alert: he wasn’t. “Zuko, what did I just say?” she asked, but her tone was way less condescending than her words. He coughed to buy time. “You, um. You said I can’t make a fire here.” She chuckled. “You realize you’re going to freeze tonight if you don’t make this work?” Zuko had not, in fact, realized that yet. He ran a hand through his hair. “So I’m just supposed to survive for an extended period of time in here by myself? Without my bending?” He hoped he sounded as incredulous as he felt. Apparently not, because she was laughing even harder now. "You wouldn't have to fight to survive if you'd just listen to me. Here, do it yourself." She gave him a handful of snow. He took it, and it immediately melted.

He wrinkled his nose.

“I think I might die if I have to stay in here alone tonight.”

“You know what?” she said, freezing the snow back. “I think you’re right. I’ll stay in here with you,”

Zuko’s breath hitched.

“-Just to make sure you survive the night. Would that be alright?” He could hear her smile in her voice. Of course that would be alright. That would be amazing. That would be-

“Perfect! Please! Yes- I.” he stumbled. “I don’t want to die tonight.” He still wasn’t completely convinced that he wouldn’t die, but if he did, he wanted to make sure it was by her side.

The first time Zuko told Katara he loved her, they were watching the fireworks on the first anniversary of the war’s ending. There was a huge festival in their honor, and it was the first time Katara had been surrounded by all of her closest friends in a very long time. The sun had just set, and the cool summer night was a relief from the sweltering heat Katara had endured for most of the day. She supposed she should start getting used to the heat. Just in case. They were alone for the first time that day, atop some hill Zuko knew about that awarded them the best view in the city, he’d said. She’d never admit it, but he was right. They could see the city capital for miles and miles. She could see each individual light from each house. The Fire Nation looked nothing less than gorgeous. The fireworks were just starting, and Zuko took it upon himself to name every type and how they were made. Katara honestly couldn’t care less, but she was happy just to hear him talk about something he enjoyed.

A particularly large firework burst, and spread beautiful orange lights over the sky. They could hear the crowd’s reaction far below them. Katara really, really wished this moment would last forever.

“Zuko, this is amazing. I love it!”

His hand found hers in the dark. He squeezed it.

“I love you, Katara.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “I love you, too Zuko.”

The first time (yes, there were multiples) Zuko asked Katara to marry him, they were out by the turtleduck pond, watching the new baby turtleducks learn how to swim. It was a spring morning, and the breeze brought with it the scent of freshly-bloomed fire lilies. Katara was playing with the turtleducks, giving them gentle waves to splash in. Zuko had been drowning in work just a half hour before, Katara had had to drag him out of his office for a much-needed break. Zuko was leaning against the big tree in the garden, and Katara was leaning against him.

She was a well-seasoned ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe, and had managed to negotiate peace and trade not only between the Fire Nation and her tribe, but the Northern Water Tribe as well. She had carved out a place for herself on the Fire Nation council, and Zuko supported her through it all. She, honestly, felt at home here.

“I could honestly stay here forever,” she mused aloud.

Zuko grabbed her hand, stroking the back of it idly with his thumb.

“How would you like to?” he almost whispered.

She craned her neck to look at him. “What do you mean? I live here already.”

“No, like... forever forever. How would you like a permanent home in the palace?”

Katara narrowed her eyes. “Zuko, are- are you asking me-”

“Yes! I mean, yeah, I suppose so.”

“You suppose you’re proposing to me.” she deadpanned.

He cleared his throat. “Katara, I’ve loved you for years. I wish I could say I’ve loved you since we met but we both know that isn’t the case.” Katara chuckled.

He took another deep breath. “It would be my honor to ask you to be my wife.”

Katara felt her heart fill, and couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face.

“Yes, Zuko. I’ll marry you. But you know your mother will be upset that she missed the proposal.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess we’ll have to make sure she’s here next time.”

The first time Zuko and Katara kissed on their wedding day- way, way before they were supposed to- they were giggling like children, hiding from the prying eyes of the fire sages and Katara's ladies in waiting. It was still early morning; the sun hadn't risen yet. The palace was already bustling with servants preparing for the ceremony. Zuko should have been tired, but he wasn't. He was too excited. They met up in Zuko’s office, having judged it the last place anyone would look for them today of all days. Zuko got there first, and sat on his desk, idly playing with his hands. There were so, so many things that could go wrong today. He ran through a mental checklist of everything he needed to do. He was on his third run-through when the doorknob jiggled slightly, and Katara slipped in the door as quietly as she could.

They met eyes, and burst into quiet laughter. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Zuko said.

“I’m sneaking around my own palace.” He felt like a teenager all over again.

“You know the fire sages wouldn’t approve. It gOeS AgAinSt TrAdiTiOn” she said, mocking the ancient Fire Sages’ voices. That only made them both laugh even harder.

“Everything about this goes against tradition!” He grabbed her waist as he said that, bringing them closer. “That’s part of what makes it so great.”

He tilted her chin up for a kiss. The first of many, on this special day. They locked eyes for a moment.

“Honestly, you’ve been my wife for a long, long time. This just makes it official.”

She snorted. “It was official to me when you took that lightning all those years ago.”

The first time Katara realized she was pregnant, she was sitting at a long, long dinner table in between her husband and an old Fire Nation nobleman with a long, silver beard. She remembered his beard specifically, because the sight of a small crumb that had gotten trapped in the wispy hairs suddenly made Katara very, very nauseous. She excused herself politely, the picture of an ever-graceful Fire Lady. Ursa taught her well. Katara held her posture perfectly all the way until she rounded the corner and was out of eyesight- then she all but sprinted to the bathroom. Her handmaids shared a look with each other.

After Katara cleaned herself up, she looked at herself in the mirror for a long, long time. She thinks, deep down, she’s known for a while now. Being a healer, she had become very in tune with the details of her own body. She’s been noticing a change for weeks, at least. But she guessed it was finally time to acknowledge it. She knew her handmaids were probably wondering why she hadn’t asked for her monthly supplies yet. She’d better tell Zuko before the rumor spread faster than any of his flames would.

She waited until the night. They were in bed, but not asleep. Zuko was writing something down on a scroll, and the small candle he lit cast his face in a warm glow.

“So what are you writing? Is it names?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Names? What? No, it’s-”

“Well you should start.”

“Start what?”

She smirked. “Start thinking about names.” “Names for what? Katara, I don’t un-” his mouth closed. Then opened again. Then closed.

She smiled. “I’m pregnant, Zuko.”

His face lit up. Zuko flung his arms around his wife, and she swears she hadn’t seen him smile this wide since their wedding day.

Katara took everything in, reveling in just how she ended up here. If you had told her at 14 that she’d be the Fire Lady, and carry the Fire Lord’s child, she would have definitely written them off as insane. But right now, in this moment, she couldn’t be happier with how her life turned out.

[tiaraofsapphires]

Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week: Day 1

Writing Prompt: Stardust

“What did you do Cassian?”

He blinked when Jyn stormed up to him and Cassian mentally ran through all the things he had done that morning that would cause Jyn to give him such a look of both anger and panic.

Coming up blank, Cassian only could say, “Do what?”

“Draven just pulled me aside to tell me we are going on a mission to Coruscant together,” she hissed.

Oh, that.

Well, there were selfish reasons that he tried to keep hidden as to why he threw Jyn’s name into this particular mission. He tried to focus on the practical, which he explained to Jyn, who didn't look reassured at all.

Jyn didn't exist in the eyes of the Empire and Cassian had so many names that he could take a pick and side into the identity like a hand into a glove. They could get in, mingle, and leave.

When the reasoning stalled and Jyn gave him an expectant look, Cassian mumbled, “We work well together.”

That was an understatement. They and the other surviving members of the Rogue One crew worked like a well-oiled machine.

This would be just the two of them on this mission, along with a few auxiliary members from Intelligence in more background roles. Selfish reasons, though he tried to deny them.

“Did you say yes?” he asked.

Jyn paused, cheeks puffing out in a huff. “Well, of course I did.”

That conversation and many conversations in the war room brought them to a ritzy gala in the Coruscanti Financial District. This mission was right up Jareth Sward’s alley, since he was a war-profiteer with in-roads to Coruscant’s richest and it only made sense he would ba at this party.

Jareth had been taking a sabbatical on Naboo, drinking and wooing the pretty creatures that were found both in the ritzy villas and the seedy alleyways.

A newcomer in the guest list was no less notable, albeit less flashy.

Tanith Ponta was a businesswoman, new money with recent success in superconductor manufacturing, reclusive and only going through secretaries and representatives in making business transactions.

The cover was iron-clad, built over the years by Rebellion spies for such a day like this.

Their mandate was simple: infiltrate the party, gather intel while a device in Cassian’s pocket broadcasted tiny bits of malware into nearby commlinks.

It was too risky to pull off a big heist or infiltrate the Empire’s biggest suppliers just yet. They just needed to set the stage for future events.

He would arrive first, from his shell penthouse. She would arrive almost on his heels, taking a taxi from her hotel room to the party.

Cassian lingered on the outskirts of the milling crowd. Smoke from expensive cigarettes floated in the air, mingling with the smell of perfumes. Booze and decadent food flowed freely from waiters’ trays to the partygoers’ hands.

It was cloying and extravagant and he hated every bit of the whole thing.

And then Jyn walked in, and he seriously wondered why they didn't do this more often.

She descended the stairs, tall and proud. The black dress was dotted with thousands of little points of glitter or gems, as if she had cut out a part of the evening sky to wear.

If he was a weaker man, if he wasn’t an expert spy, he would’ve cracked.

As she got closer, he saw that there were jeweled pins in her hair, a second galaxy joining the first.

She was beautiful.

“Mr. Sward.”

His mouth flapped uselessly before he steeled himself. It worked with the act, he told himself. His cover remained intact.

“My dear Tanith, you look radiant.” It was the truth, but he had to hide his true emotion under a veneer of entitled sleaze.

Jyn smiled demurely.

His eyes roamed over her greedily, lasciviously, for the sake of the people watching and expecting him to be a leery pig. It was too easy, because in his heart he was madly attracted to Jyn Erso and she dangled in front of him like a delicacy he could only look at and never actually touch.

“Care to dance?” Jyn asked.

Right, the plan. It would make an excuse to get them to the center of the room, where the signal broadcast could hit the most people.

Jyn held out her hand and he took it, letting her lead him to the space where other couples danced slowly to the orchestra playing in the corner.

He could touch her a little, one hand planted on her hip and cradling her hand in the other.

He wanted her and had since the moment they met. He wanted to sneak his hands under her dress. He wanted to bury his face into the crook of her neck, smelling her skin and the perfume that clung to the air around her.

It felt barbaric, like he would be tainting something so pure and far removed from him. He wanted to be hard, but gentle at the same time. He wanted to hold her in his arms, properly, hiding them from the vipers that surrounded them and would consume them if they let their act slip.

This was entirely unfair.

“I didn't know you were such a good dancer,” Jyn murmured.

He felt the tips of his ears go uncomfortably hot.

“I can dance in other places, my dear.”

He internally winced while Jyn fought back a grin.

“I hope I can see them later.”

Always thinking on her feet. It was one of the many things he liked about her.

They swayed together to the rhythm of the music. Though her eyes shifted to the crowd around them, her gaze seemed to draw to his face more often than not.

He wondered what she saw in him, if she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

“You truly are radiant.”

She blinked at him, fear glazing over her eyes for a brief moment. “What?”

He shook his head, trying to dispel what he had created with a smile. “Nothing.”

Fool, foolish man who fell in love with the starlight that fought by his side, reduced to confession in a language she couldn't understand.

“Nothing,” he repeated, as much to himself as it was to her.

He just counted himself lucky he could touch her without being burned.

[layce2015]

Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Chapter 8: The Blind Pig

*3rd PERSON POV*

Tina leads the four of you down an insalubrious back alley covered in bins, crates, and discarded objects. She locates a set of steps leading to a basement apartment and motions you, Newt, Jacob and Queenie down. The steps lead to, what appears to be, a dead end: the doorway has been bricked up. Instead, a poster of a simpering debutante in an evening dress, gazing at herself in a mirror, covers the end of the walkway. Tina and Queenie stand in front of this, turn to each other and, in unison, raise their wands.

As they do so, their work clothes transforms into stunning flapper party dresses. Newt hastily magics himself a bow tie and you raise your wand as well and change from a button up shirt and black pants to a beautiful (fave color) dress. Queenie gazes at Jacob, a cheeky smile on her face as Tina steps towards the poster and knocks four times.

As she knocks, Queenie looks over at Newt and sees he has a look of amazement and awe on his face. And he was staring at none other than you. She looks amazing! Beautiful, actually! Queenie hears in Newt's mind. She smiles to herself as the hatch opens: the painted eye of the debutante whip back to reveal the gaze of a suspicious guard.

****

After getting clearance, the five of you walk into the seedy, low-ceilinged speakeasy, where every down and out of New York's magical community come to unwind. A glamorous goblin jazz singer croons on a stage full of goblin musicians, smoky images wafting from her wand to illustrate her lyrics:

​​​​​​The Phoenix cried fat tears of pearl  

When the dragon snapped up his best

girl,

And the Billywig forgot to twirl

When his sweetheart left him cold,

And the unicorn done lost his horn,

And the Hippogriff feels all forlorn,

Cause their lady loves have upped and 

gawn,

Or that's what I've been told

As the singing continues, Jacob stand by a seemingly unmanned bar, waiting to be served. "How do I get a drink in this joint?" He asked, aloud, when a thin bottle of brown liquid zooms towards him, out of nowhere, he catches it, stunned. The head of a house-elf peers up at him from behind the bar. "What? Ain't you ever seen a house-elf before?" The elf asked him, eyeing him suspiciously. "Oh, no, yeah, no, yeah, of course I have....I love house-elves. My uncle's a house-elf." Jacob said, trying to act nonchalant about it as he removes the cork from the bottle.

The house-elf, not fooled, raises himself up, leaning against on the bar to stare at Jacob as you and Queenie approach the bar. "Six shots of gigglewater, please." Queenie said, looking downcast. "And a lobe blaster, please." You ordered and the house-elf shuffles off to fulfill the request.

Queenie and Jacob look at each other while you look around the bar. "Are all No-Majs like you?" Queenie asked him. "No, I'm the only one like me." Jacob replied trying to sound serious and almost seductive as he reaches over and takes one of the gigglewater shots.

Maintaining strong eye contact with Queenie, Jacob knocks back a shot and emits a raucous, high pitched giggle. You snorted and cover your mouth with your hand as Queenie laughs, sweetly, at him.

Across the room, Newt, who can't help but stare at you, and Tina are sitting at a table alone. "I've arrested half of the people in here." Tina said, looking around the bar, and Newt turns his attention to her. "You can tell me to mind my own business....but (Y/N) and I saw something in that death potion back there. We saw you hugging that Second Salem boy." He said as Tina moves her gaze from him, looking off to the side.

She lets out a deep breath and said. "His names Credence. His mother beats him. She beats all those kids she adopted, but she seems to hate him the most."

 "And she was the No-Maj you attacked?" Newt asked her.

"That's how I lost my job. I went for her in front of a meeting of her crazy followers---they all had to be Obliviated. It was a big scandal." She finished as Gnarklak emerged from the depths of the speakeasy, smoking a cigar and smartly dressed for a goblin.

He eyes the newcomers as he walks over to Tina's and Newt's table and sits down. "So you're the guy with the case full of monsters, huh?" He asked Newt. "News travels fast. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me if there have been any sightings. Tracks. That sort of thing." Newt replied as Gnarlak downs his drink and a house-elf brings him a document to sign.

"You and that lady friend of yours have a big price on your heads, Mr Scamander. Why should I help you instead of turnin' you in?" He asked.

"I take it I'll have to make it worth your while?" Newt asked him as the house-elf scurries off, holding the signed document.

"Hmm--let's consider it a cover charge." Gnarlak said. Newt pulls out a couple of Galleons and slides them across the table toward the goblin, who barely looks up. "Huh---MACUSA's offerin' more 'n that." He said, unimpressed.

Newt, then, pulls out a beautiful metal instrument and places it on the table. "Lunascope? I've got five." Gnarlak said as he continues to smoke his cigar. Newt rummages in his coat pocket and pulls out a glowing, frozen ruby egg instead. "Frozen Ashwinder egg!" He said.

As he was doing this, you decided to walk over to them and sit next to Newt. "You see--now we're---" Gnarlak said, now sounding like he is interested, but stops when he sees Pickett poking out of Newt's pocket. "Wait a minute! Is that a Bowtruckle?" He asked, pointing at the creature. "What?" You ask as Newt places his hand over his pocket, protecting the creature. He turns to the goblin and said. "No. Absolutely not!"

"Come on. They pick locks, am I right?" The goblin said.

 "You're not having him" Newt said. Gnarlak gets up from his chair and said."Well, good luck gettin' back alive, Mr Scamander and Miss (L/N), what with the whole of MACUSA on your backs."

He starts to walk away until....

"Wait!" You shouted and the goblin stops in his track. "Take me instead." You said while the goblin smiles evily.

"What? No! Absolutely not, (y/n)!" Newt said, quickly.

"I'll take Pickett's place." You said.

"Well, well, well." The goblin said as Newt shakes his head at you, feeling like his heart being ripped out. "Don't do this, (y/n)." He said, shakily.

You give him a small smile and kiss his cheek. "Find the rest of our creatures and get out of New York safely." You whisper in his ear and then you get up from your chair and walk over to the goblin. "Take me instead, I can do so much for your little pub but only if you tell him what he needs to know." You said. The goblin looks at you, smiling viciously, then snaps his fingers as two more goblins come up next to him.

"Boys, take our new girl to the back and have her ready for her first day on the job." He said as the two hench-goblins grab your arms and take you away from Newt, who looks away and wipes tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Beautiful....anyway somethin' invisible's been wreakin' havoc around Fifth Avenue. You may wanna check out Macy's department store. Might help with what you're looking for." Gnarlak said as Newt sniffs and clears his throat, trying to compose himself even though he feels empty without you there. He was kicking himself for not admitting his true feelings towards you sooner.

"Right." He said, croaky. "Oh, one last thing. There's a Mr Graves who works at MACUSA---I was wondering what you knew of his background." He said to Gnarlak, who stares at him.

"You ask too many questions, Mr Scamander. That can get you killed." The goblin said when suddenly someone screamed. "MACUSA ARE COMING!!"

And a bunch of house-elves Disapparate. Tina gets to her feet and glares at Gnarlak. "You tipped them off!" She said angrily. Gnarlak chuckles menacingly as wanted posters of you, Newt and Tina appear on the wall. Aurors begin Apparating as Jacob saunters up to Gnarlak. "Sorry, Mr Gnarklak--" Jacob said and he punches the goblin straight in the face, knocking him backward. Queenie looks at him, delighted. "Reminds me of my foreman!" Jacob replied as Newt stands up and runs towards the back. 

Meanwhile, as the goblins brought you to the back you hear someone shouting about the MACUSA coming and you turn around and face the goblins. "So sorry about this." You said, sincerely, and you whip your wand out and shouted. "Stupefy!" And blast the goblins away. You smile to yourself as you open the door and run out of the room. "NEWT!" You shout as you run and suddenly you collide with something solid.

You look up and see the familiar green eyes. "Newt." You said, smiling. "(Y/N)! Thank Paracelsus you're okay!" He said as the both of you hug each other and he kisses the top of your head. Tina, Queenie and Jacob come up behind him and the five of you met up and Disapparate. 

[agents-of-france]

Once Kept Promises [from the archives]

A Cafe in Paris, December 15th 2015

“So a human trafficking ring, huh?” Enjolras asked Montparnasse as they both sat down in a booth as some obscure cafe. Although it wasn’t a seedy cafe it most certainly wasn’t nice either. Enjolras coughed uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. Eponine had called in a favor, one that he was inclined to uphold, but he wasn’t sure exactly what he could do for the kid that was sitting in front of him. He didn’t like involving kids in his line of work, but sometimes they just fell into his lap and it seemed to be happening a lot recently.

“Yeah. Umm, not by choice. Kinda … a gun pointed at my head until I said yes. And then I couldn’t do it. Which led to me breaking into the Musée d'Orsay. I’m sure ‘Ponine told you the rest.” Montparnasse shrugged, looking down at the table they were seated at. Enjolras wasn’t exactly the kind of man whose eyes he wanted to meet. He practically radiated justice. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could make things right. He could be … he could be with Jehan. As long as he didn’t royally mess this up.

[continue reading below the cut]

“She did.” Enjolras rubbed the back of his neck. “Five Million Euros, that’s a lot. We won’t be able to help with the debt, but we are going to track these guys down and eradicate their ring. The fact that you came to us and gave us some information has already helped improve our ongoing investigation, and will clear you of all potential charges. That I can promise you.” Montparnasse couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen. The amount of kids who had become involved with the dark side of Paris had been growing. He wanted to help them all.

Mont looked up at Enjolras sharply. “All of them?” He asked quietly, hesitantly. He could get a new start, if he could find money, if he could stay away from the gangs … there it was again, hope. “I didn’t expect that you could pay it off. I have a contingency plan for these kinds of situations and I can’t afford it. But I couldn’t let those kids suffer.” He said it all in a rush and then promptly shut his mouth. It was stupid to tell this man more than he needed to until he had protection in writing.  

“I know. You did the right thing.” Enjolras met the young man’s eyes which held a spark of hope in them. Enjolras hoped he could give this kid what he needed. Enjolras picked up his briefcase and put on the table, quickly unlatching it. He pulled out a few sheets of paper. “I know that you’ve told us all that you know, and it’s all been typed up for you to read through. I just need your signature on the bottom, and date it. The sheet under that is paperwork for filing immunity of all charges. It’s been signed by the Director of FRANCE, various judges, the head of the police department, and myself. You need to read through your obligations that come along with immunity, such as the fact that you may need to testify and you will have to refrain from criminal activity. For the time being, it would be better for you to be put in one of our many safe houses or even our base for your protection, and the fact that the judges want us to keep an eye on you.” Enjolras shrugged in an apology. “They think you are a potential flight risk. So the last sheet has my contact information, and my friends Feuilly and Combeferre’s information if you can’t reach me. We’ve also set up a new bank account for you, and your assets have already been transferred into it discreetly through various different accounts so it can’t be tracked. Your account number is there as well, plus a new cell phone.” Enjolras grabbed the burner flip phone from his case. “Sorry it isn’t top notch, but it’s the best I could do on short notice.”  

Taking the papers from Enjolras, Montparnasse began to look them over. The first sheet, his testimony, looked fine, and he pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled his name and the date. “This looks great, it’s exactly what I said.” He passed the form back across the table, and his eyes began to scan the immunity sheet. Shit. He could testify … But what if they asked about one of his friends? And cease and desist from all criminal activity … What else did he know? He’d been at this since he was 15. And being told where to live. Well, shit. He looked up at Enjolras, a wrinkle between his brows and said exactly that. “Shit, I have to sign away my entire life, don’t I?” His hands shook a little. He wanted this. He needed this. “What does this mean, long term?” He asked, stalling desperately for time. “I appreciate the help with my accounts, and the new identity, and everything, but I can’t, and won’t, be a slave.”

“In the long term you could be an asset to FRANCE and FRANCE would be an asset to you, but it’s your choice. I’m not going to make you do anything that you don’t want to do, but these are the necessary steps that have to be taken if you want FRANCE’s help. We don’t make a habit of helping people maintain criminal activity. Rather they come on board to put their skills to better use.” Enjolras loosened his tie, took off his suit jacket, and placed a pair of glasses on his nose. “I’m not going to make you join FRANCE if you don’t want to, and we aren’t slaves if that’s what you’re thinking. If you don’t take FRANCE’s help then I can call in a few favors to get you out of the city, but I can’t assure you that we can put a complete stop to that ring. The Director is very particular about the give and take of FRANCE’s relationship with other. I can assure you that I will do everything within my power to stop them, but if the Director pulls funds and resources then I can’t.” Bitterness filled Enjolras voice as he leaned back in the booth.

“No!” Mont’s response was far too fast - it gave away too much. “No.” He tried again, slower. “I can’t leave Paris.” Calm. Composure. He was supposed to be a hardened criminal, not a teenage boy afraid to leave the city without his lover. “Why wouldn’t The Director let you take down an actual human trafficking ring? That seems right up your alley. These people are literal scum of the earth.” Montparnasse shook his head, gesturing back to the paper. “So, if I sign this, then what? Do I get a parole officer? Psych evaluations? Because I’m not a big fan of either of those things.”  He twirled his pen around in his fingers like he would a knife. “I’m not opposed to being an … asset to you. I think you guys do good work, most of the time. But I don’t necessarily want you breathing down my neck at every turn. I’ve been at this-” He spread his hands, “for a long time. It’s survival, that’s all. I’m just not sure I’d mix well with you agent types on a permanent basis.”

“And I’ve been at this longer than you. I’ve seen a lot of kids wasted on these streets, and I’ve seen some of the best people throw away their lives.” Enjolras took a deep breath. “I’m not saying this situation is ideal, but it is the best I could come up with on short notice especially since you haven’t been properly vetted by the agency. The agency can be paranoid and very particular. Now I’m going to be very frank with you as an agent not as Eponine’s friend. At this point FRANCE means more to you than you do to us. You are expendable in the eyes of the agency. So you either take the deal FRANCE has offered you and somehow you live with it just as countless others have before you. Many of my friends, my team, were like you. Grantaire, Joly, Jehan, and some have even harsher backgrounds. Or you can accept my help to get you underground with new resources, but if I were you I would take FRANCE’s offer. There are no psych evaluations, but there are rules that you would have to follow. You would be safe, and comfortable. You would be doing good work.” This kid wasn’t interested in his own self-interest, which was ridiculous, but he was a kid. “FRANCE would give you a home, and it has done that for many people already. It’s up to you.” Enjolras shrugged and crossed his arms.  

Montparnasse hesitated, because he felt a little bit like he was signing away his soul. But if he did this, he’d be off the streets, permanently. He wouldn’t be free, exactly, but he could be with Jehan, and he could maybe even learn to be happy. “‘Ponine and I aren’t friends.” He corrected, because she wasn’t here to do it for him. He took a deep breath, he read the list over again, and then he reminded himself that this was his second chance, and that he could always fake his own death if it was really awful. “Well, I guess it’s better than dead in a gutter.” He said softly as he clicked the pen open. “You promise no psych evals? Because I won’t pass, probably.” He laughed lightly, already signing the form and pushing it back across the table to Enjolras. “I guess I work for you now. Congratulations.”  

“No one in FRANCE would pass psych evaluations if there were any.” Enjolras laughed and stuck his hand across the table to Mont. “Welcome to the team.”

Les Amis Quarters, FRANCE Base, December 29th 2015

Enjolras couldn’t believe this was happening. The Director was asking him to break his promise to Montparnasse, and to put him in custody and to even kill him. Enjolras stormed into the compound with anger rolling off his shoulders. He should have expected this. The Director is only ever concerned about his own self-interest.

Montparnasse was just getting out of the shower when he heard a door slam - now, door slamming had been something you started to get used to when you lived with 13 people, but this door slamming sounded particularly angry. He dried himself off and got dressed, wincing as the towel brushed over bruises - he’d been training like crazy and every inch of his body felt abused. Peeking his head into the living area, he spotted a fuming Enjolras, and decided that he should just head to his bed and stall there for a bit.

Enjolras spotted Montparnasse poking his head around the corner. “Parnasse pack a bag and gather your things we’re going on a trip. Do it quickly. That’s an order as your commanding officer.” Enjolras kept his voice firm and unwavering. Montparnasse couldn’t suspect anything that was the only way they were both going to make it out of this alive. Enjolras didn’t have a plan, but he knew for a fact that he wasn’t gonna kill a kid.

Apparently he wasn’t very subtle. Montparnasse nodded briskly and retreated to the dorm to pack. He didn’t exactly own very much - but as he gathered his few things, he pondered the situation. What could have happened to piss Enjolras off so bad that he came back slamming doors and issuing orders without an explanation? Was it something Montparnasse had done? He thought back over the past few days.

It hadn’t been the training fight he’d cheated in, because Feuilly (and Bahorel, who he had been fighting) encouraged cheating. He kept his bed and locker clean - military levels of cleanliness were something he had known how to adhere to since childhood. Had Enjolras found out about Jehan? Shit. That must be it. As he finished packing, he considered: run, and end up with a price on his head and no way to see his love, or go with Enjolras to God-knew-where, but potentially jail. Shit. Damn it. Damn it all the hell. He glanced at the window, something close to panic filling him.

Montparnasse was taking too long. Enjolras huffed in frustration and jumped off the couch. He marched into the room and watched Parnasse who appeared to be considering jumping out of the window. Idiot.

“Montparnasse,” Enjolras’ voice was grave. “I can guarantee that if you jump out that window and run you will be dead within a matter of minutes. So either you come with me or I can promise you that you will die once you start running. There isn’t much of a choice.” His gaze neared deadly as he stared down the kid. “Like I said, get your things we’re leaving.”

Montparnasse jumped when he heard Enjolras speak. How had the other man known what was going through his head? He didn’t know, so he turned to Enjolras, who was staring him down, to ask. The question died on his lips. Mont had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming back here anytime soon, so he finished throwing  all of his meager possessions into his duffle bag, slipped his knives into various places on his person, and turned to Enjolras. “Yes, sir.” He said quietly, his shoulders slumped and his head down. He knew now that he was going to jail - he was going to jail or he was going to be executed. The threat - if you run you die - hung heavy around him and he knew he had lost the game. Hell if he knew what he had screwed up, but it had to be something bad, for him to get kicked out like this.

“Give me your bag, Parnasse.” Enjolras shouldered the other man’s duffel bag and pulled handcuffs off of his belt. “Put your hands behind your back and walk. Don’t say a word to anyone.”

Mont didn’t know if Enjolras was going to cuff him or what, but he saw the handcuffs in Enjolras’ hand, and he paled at the threat. He couldn’t talk to anyone, he couldn’t say goodbye to Jehan- no. “Let me say goodbye, please.” He kept his head down as he asked, fully expecting Enjolras to laugh at him, cuff him, and take him out back and shoot him. Well, if he was going to die he might as well go out fighting. He planted his feet and looked up at Enjolras, defiance in his eyes as he pulled out two butterfly knives and flipped them open. “You’ve made it clear I don’t have anything to lose.”

“No. Put down your God damn knives, now. You don’t get to say goodbye, Parnasse. So help me God if you come at me with those knives you will be on the ground faster than you can say ‘oops’, and they I will hand you over to the Director. Don’t be an idiot.” Anger and fear flooded his body. He was cutting it too close. At this rate they would both die. “Damnit! If you don’t come with me we will both die, and maybe even Jehan. So cut the shit and move. Don’t act like a child and face the consequences of your actions. Let’s go.”

Jehan. All he wanted to do was protect them. If it meant his own death, well … so be it. His momentary resistance left him, and he slumped again, folding the knives and tucking them away. Honestly, he was surprised that Enjolras hadn’t taken them. “So this is what ‘immunity from all charges’ looks like, then?” He asked bitterly. “Take me off the street, make me compliant, and then drag me out back and kill me?” There was fire in his voice despite the way his shoulders slumped and his hands hung loosely at his sides. “I don’t even know what I did.”

Enjolras was filled with guilt, but he couldn’t tell Mont what was going on, not while they were in the compound. Security had become tight and he was sure that there were camera and bugs in every inch of their surrounding areas.

“I don’t know either, Mont,” Enjolras whispered sadly as he cuffed Montparnasse’s hands behind his back. “But we have to go.”

Enjolras marched Montparnasse through the common area and was thankful that no one else was around. He guided Mont through the door that lead to the agency and on to the garage where a car was waiting for him. Another agent got out of the car.

“Sir, we have orders to take the prisoner somewhere more secure.”

Enjolras shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, agent. I will handle it from here.”

“But, sir-”

“I am your superior officer you will do as I say,” Enjolras’ voice was cold, and he hates to admit it but he sounded a lot like his father, the Director.

The agent nodded and saluted before leaving Enjolras and Montparnasse behind.

Montparnasse’s head was bowed with shame, and he had to fight the tears burning at his eyes. He had thought that he had found a home - but how wrong he had been. As Enjolras pushed him through the compound, he composed a goodbye to Jehan. They would never hear it, but … it was something. While Enjolras argued with the other agents, tears fell against his will, splatting against the cement that covered the ground. He had always known that death would find him … but it was all too sudden.

Enjolras ignored Montparnasse’s tears. He didn’t have time to reassure him. Instead he ushered Mont into the back seat, and the got in the driver’s side. He turned the key in the ignition and the black car gave off a low hum. Enjolras carefully guided the car to the garage exit and was conscious of the GPS system that was tracking their every move. Enjolras breathed evenly and glanced at the hunched figure of Montparnasse in his rearview mirror. He was so young and he looked defeated. Enjolras had just stripped him of the first form of stability in his life, and Enjolras would forever hate himself for that fact. Stability and family were important at any age, but to have it stripped from you was truly a heinous act. He gripped the wheel tightly and drove to the outskirts of Paris with his mouth set in a firm line. He was going to get Montparnasse out alive, and he was going to save him.

Alone in the back of the car, Montparnasse let out broken sobs. If Enjolras was going to kill him, then Mont didn’t care if he saw him cry. He felt betrayed. He felt destroyed. He felt like he had been offered the world (or just room and board) and that it had all been stripped away. He just wanted to be with Jehan, and so he sobbed in the backseat of the car as he was driven to his death.

When they reached the edge of the city Enjolras parked the car in a discreet back alley. He grabbed Mont’s bag and pulled the boy out of the back of the car. Enjolras ushered Mont through some side streets and left the car behind. Enjolras didn’t dare look back. Enjolras slid his phone of his pocket and threw it on the ground. The screen cracked and the phone went dead. He did the same with Mont’s phone, and took a deep breath.

“Now we can talk freely. Promise not to draw a knife on me?” Enjolras asked.

Enjolras’ actions confused Mont even more. Parking in an alley, dragging him out of the car, smashing his phone … maybe Enjolras was just very sadistic and enjoyed stripping his victim of all hope. He was still crying, his fear having stripped him of the ability to control himself. “I can’t draw a knife on you, you asshole! You’ve cuffed me, remember? Why did you drag me all the way out here to kill me? I believe guns function the same in all parts of the city. Or did you not want to bloody your perfect compound?” Montparnasse spat.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Enjolras hissed. “Now keep your voice down or we are going to be caught. Look, the Director put a hit out on you, and I’m trying to get you out of here alive. Now, I’m going to uncuff you and you are going to put on my sweatshirt and we are going to meet people that owe me some favors. They are going to get you out of the city. So don’t put up a fight, I’m trying to help you.” Enjolras undid Mont’s cuffs and took off his hunter green sweatshirt and handed it to Mont. “We need to get going. I can’t be gone from the car for too long.”

“What?” Montparnasse looked up for the first time. “You’re not? But I thought The Director … ?” He didn’t know what would prompt Enjolras to disobey his father. As soon as his wrists were free, he rubbed them - they were raw from pulling at the cuffs. And then Enjolras was shrugging out of his sweatshirt and handing it to him. He didn’t know what else to do but comply, so he shrugged it on. He was confused, everything was happening much too fast, and he just wanted to understand. “Why does The Director want me dead? I can’t leave the city, Enjolras.”

Enjolras shook his head. “I don’t know why he wants you dead. He’s not very forthcoming about his motive, and for the record I don’t care that you can’t leave the city. You are leaving the city so you don’t die. If FRANCE catches a single glimpse of you you’re dead. Jehan’s dead. I’m dead because I didn’t follow orders and that is treason. So please do yourself a favor and put your life, my life, and Jehan’s life before your relationship. If you die because you stayed in the city for Jehan they will never forgive themself, and neither will I. So please do what’s best for all of us.” Enjolras put the cuffs back in his belt loop and checked to make sure his gun was secure. A cool breeze swept down the alley and made the hair on his bare arms stand up. “Follow me. We need to move.” Enjolras whipped out a cheap flip phone and activated it. “I need to make some calls while me move, so take this.” He grabbed his ankle gun and handed it to Mont before grabbing his own from his hip. “Watch your six. Stay behind me, and don’t stop. Do you understand? Let’s go.” Enjolras began dialing various numbers and began walking into the heart of Paris once more.

Mont took the gun numbly. So he hadn’t been betrayed, but he was still losing everything and everyone. He would keep his life - yes, but at what cost? What was life without love? Without friends? Without anything but fear? He dried his eyes. “I understand.” He said, following the blond into Paris. Even though he wasn’t headed out of the city, every step felt farther away from home. His eyes darted back and forth, the training kicking in even as he wasn’t really aware enough to know what he was doing.

Enjolras got off the phone with his last contact with a light “Merci.” The sun was going down quickly and the dark streets of Paris were becoming lively. The nightlife was about to take over. “We aren’t too far away, just a little bit further.” His words came out with a puff in the cold air. Enjolras pocketed the flip phone and rounded the last few corners before he came to the abandoned entrance of the Parisian underground. “I hope you’re not afraid of narrow tunnels,” Enjolras said. “My contacts will meet us halfway and then you’re on your own.” Enjolras wiped his hand across his mouth nervously and took a deep breath. “Down once more, I suppose. Watch your step.”

The entrance was dark and the tunnel itself dank. It smelled vaguely of death. Enjolras took out a flashlight and illuminated the path in front of them. It was dark and uninviting, but it would provide them both with safety.

Vaguely, Montparnasse wondered if Enjolras was cold. “I’m not afraid of anything,” He replied with a huff. “Except perhaps losing Jehan. So I suppose I cannot lose anything more, and I certainly cannot be more afraid.” He followed Enjolras into the tunnels and wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t a pace he would choose to frequent. But it appeared that this was his life now. “Do I at least get to know who these contacts are? Or where they are taking me?”

“You will meet them soon enough, and I will make introductions then. And no I can’t tell you where they are taking you because even I don’t know. You’ll just have to wait and see.” It was better that he didn’t know all the details about the other’s plan. If the Director ever figured out that Mont was alive then then the Director couldn’t beat any information out of him. Enjolras felt sad that Montparnasse had to leave Jehan behind, but this was for the best. “Do you want me to tell Jehan anything? They’ll understand.”

“I see.” Mont pressed his lips together. It wasn’t exactly reassuring that not even Enjolras knew where he was going. These people could just kill him like Enjolras was supposed to. “Tell them I love them, please. I don’t have time to come up with lavish words … but they’ll know what I mean. And tell them that I’ll find them again someday, somehow, and to remember Paris Nocturne. Tell them I’ll be thinking of it too.” Mont’s voice cracked at the end, and he shut up to keep up his image.   

“I can do that,” Enjolras assured him. A flash of light and hushed voices up ahead caught his attention. “Stand tall, Mont, they are just up ahead.” Enjolras continued up ahead and met the three familiar figures. All three were young and had seen the inside of a cell a few times. They were 18 to 21 and Enjolras had done his best to keep them off of FRANCE’s radar. Claquesous was 21 and could easily blend into the shadows. He was just a few inches shorter than Enjolras and had dark skin and broad shoulders. Babet was a jack of many trades, in truth Enjolras didn’t really know what Babet actually did. All of his charges varied. Babet was 18 and gangly. Enjolras was afraid that if he breathed the wrong way Babet would fall over. Last was Gueulemer. At 20 he stood a couple inches taller than a Enjolras and was all around massive. Some would describe him as ‘a Hercules who had come down in the world’. Enjolras stopped in front of them and straightened his shirt. He quickly put his gun in his belt and went to shake their hands. “It’s good to see you all again. Claquesous, Babet, Gueulemer, this is Montparnasse.”

[thatguysamaniac-blog]

*shudder* The scene opens in a seedy backstreet, a valve hisses with steam, a jittery dropout approaches a shifty looking man in a trench coat. The twitching skinny looks like a university student, wearing jeans and a half life 3 t-shirt and is fervently clutching a Devil May Cry 5 "V" card. He utters, "Please sir, I'm collecting for a badge on a devil may cry game a really like... I bought it from you." The man in the trenchcoat is unflinching, the light in the alley is dim and shadows flicker across his face, only his eyes are really visible, piercing yet soulless. "I have two of these 'V' cards, I was hoping to trade it in for one of the cards that I don't have. Can you help me Mister Marketplace" pleaded this geeky student-looking man, stretching out the card before him. Mr. Marketplace, reaches down and plucks the the card from his hands, in his gruffest poor-people east London accent he replies, "I might know someone, who might buy this for the average of £0.10, then I'll give you £0.08 for it!" The pale geekier man, went paler still, "But if you take 20% that is not enough for another card..." Mr. Marketplaces eyes lit up, "Maybe you wanna get rid of some of your other cards, make some cash to buy some more" leaning forward his silhouette hanging over the cowering geek, "or better yet, why don't you give me your money,  and you can buy as many of my pretty little picture cards as you want", breathing heavily, with bull-like snorting through his nose, "maybe if you are really good you can make some money!" The steam marketplace is awful. Most of the games you play will send you a nice little message every now-and-then with a notification you have earned a trading card for the game. What are these mystical cards? What do they do? Why do they exist? On each game you have a chance to get cards, once you collect all of them you get a pack with "rewards" these rewards are rehashed promo artwork and icons for use in the steam application, but still compelling, nice to get a little extra to show some love for your faves. However there are some odd mechanics around it. You can only get roughly half the cards per game, so if a game has 10 cards attached to it, you will only ever be able to get 5 card drops from scratch, that is it. The remaining cards have to be acquired from the marketplace. Also little bit of insult to injury, that is 5 card "drops" therefore you can get the same card to drop multiple times. The actual process of selling and buying these cards exists tucked away in the "Community" tab, where you are expected to engage with other "humans" to ask for and trade cards. Similar to that of ebay, or in my experience the WoW auction house. 1. General: WTB: Huniepop Cards This is also where other in game commodities are sold: Most of these are weapons or some kevlar armour, homestly this stuff makes it look like how i imagine the "dark-web" looks. Oh and for extra scumminess, as illustrated above Steam will skim off that 20% for themselves. All that aside, as fans of the new Resident Evil 2 remake, I decided I wanted to spruce up my Steam to reflect that. I promptly trash-sold all my half collected cards or doublers for games I have no desire to collect pack for (Thanks every jackbox game I own!) and then put up my request for the Resident evil cards I didn't have (undercutting the average because I am a total skinflint) Eventually, after about a week I got my full set of 8 cards.  But there is yet another layer of Random loot-cratey Gatchaness,  the rewards you get are also random, here is me hoping for a Police station background, and then finding out it is the least common one! (of course it is!) Anyways as a little epilogue to my tale of sadness, I got the gas station... and 50% off a game I am sure I already detest, just from the name alone! Love and falling into the trap, Richie X

http://www.thatguys.co.uk/2019/04/the-steam-marketplace.html

[rpchive]

107th Encounter-- Smoking Barrel

The background noises of the IT travelling come to a stop as it reaches its next destination. Collin looks up from the table in his room where he is currently working on something with his magic. He quickly moves the project into a drawer and turns himself around in his chair to look back for Jay. "Sounds like we've finally landed somewhere. Do you wanna go see what we've got?" Shifting to a seated position on the bed, Jay nods. "Always should." Collin hops up out of his chair and walks over to Jay as he gets up. Taking Jay's hand in his, they make their way down the hall to the console room. Nydins; Demo; and Maya are all patiently waiting around the console. Rio's chair remains empty as she remains with XL and Hod. Collin: Hey guys. Man, I know Rio isn't always in here, but it feels even weirder than usual not to see her... Nydins: I know. Late nights got a lot quieter suddenly...I keep having to visit her in XL's room now. Collin: You know you don't always have to be in here, right? It's fine to leave the console for a while; I think the IT can handle itself somewhat. Nydins: Yeah, but if something weird happens to our coordinates, who's gonna tell everybody? Collin: I guess that's fair. I wish this thing had a PA system or something so it could just say when stuff was getting weird.

look me in the eyes and honestly tell me you want the IT to start talking and I’ll do it

Fawkes enters the room, quickly jumping into the conversation. "I do find it a little odd that a ship as complicated as this one doesn't have any automated alert systems. Verbal ones, at least." Demo: Wow, you're about the last guy I expected to see show up. Is it a special occasion? Fawkes: Not exactly. I finished decommissioning the speedwell weapon I installed a while back, and I figured I've spent enough time working on another personal project for now. I thought now would be as good a time as any to join you for a change. Demo: The more the merrier, I guess. Anyone gonna take a look outside first? Collin: I guess I can do that real qui-

He gets cut off as Daedalus quickly hurries into the console room, Clair closely behind him.

Daedalus: Wait wait wait, hang on a second. I was on my way here when I ran into a tag-along. You guys already got a full group yet? Demo: Well no, but I guess we can make this a field trip if we're gonna bring half the IT. At least we aren't bringing everyone who can fight.

Maya: Eh, I'll hang back unless you need me. Looks like Nydins could use the company anyway. Collin: I think we can manage. We've got a pretty decent group right here. Everyone ready then? alienrabitt: Looks like it. Daedalus: Cool, let's see what we're dealing with then.

Fawkes, Collin, Jay, Demo, Daedalus, and Clair step out of the IT and find themselves standing in an alleyway between two tall brick buildings that have seen happier days. The sound of numerous voices clamor at the end of the alley, and sand swirls around their ankles as the wind sweeps the worn pavement. They head out of the alley and find themselves at the far end of a long stretch of market stalls. Colors, smells, and sounds rush toward them in a wave, trying to convince them to come further.

Clothing lines run across the buildings on either side of the market, various personal belongings hanging from them in the breeze. On the rooftops are numerous personal windmills that seem to provide power to the buildings, and solar panels dot the outer walls to catch the sun as it moves across the sky. The wind that spins the windmills above continues swirling sand through the market occasionally, though the locals seem to pay it no mind. Demo: I feel over-dressed...what kind of place is this? Daedalus: Beats me. The IT doesn't exactly print out a tourist pamphlet whenever we go somewhere.

Fawkes: It feels like Earth, but something also feels... off. I can't quite identify what it is though. Demo: I'm more trying to figure the time period out...

alienrabitt: Won't figure anything out standing around here... Collin: In we go, then. Maybe someone can help us out...?

As the group enters the marketplace and begins looking around, they quickly find themselves pulled along in the current of people. Fawkes occasionally draws an interested or admiring glance, although no one seems to perplexed by his presence. Several members of the group are assailed by a barrage of invitations to come look at stalls or deals as they make their way through, but even those are hard to place in the confusion. alienrabitt: This is way too many people...

Clair: They're not weirded out by you guys? Between your arm and Fawkes, I kinda expected a lot of attention...

Demo: As if this crowd isn't?! A voice suddenly calls out to them through the crowd. "E-Excuse me, Mr. Robot? Can you and your friends come here for a minute?"

Fawkes perks up and spins his head around, finding the source of the voice to be a girl in her late teens at the latest standing in the front of another alleyway, waving to them.

Fawkes: Well I can't say no, can I? She called me "mister". Demo: Anything to get away from all these people...

I never inherited mom’s claustrophobia but since Jay is “me” Demo did, which is surreal

Fawkes ushers the group through the crowd into the alleyway with the girl.

Fawkes: Alright, what is it you need, little miss? Oh, and you can call me Fawkes. "Mr. Robot" is my father.

domo arigato

it’s actually hard for us to sing that song because Miku always falls into the phonetics during that part (domo arigato meestaa robotto)

The girl gives a small bow to them, brushing a stray hair behind her ear as she stands back up. "I'm Senri. I... really appreciate you coming over here. I know it's probably strange getting flagged down like that. You're travelers, right? I doubt there's a family here with a working robot and a hard light prosthesis that I don't know at this point." Demo: How'd you know...? Senri: That you weren't from here? Like I said, I know everyone in town with tech like yours. When you run a newspaper, you need to know your audience, right? Clair: A newspaper? Is that why you flagged us down? Senri: N-No, not quite. I lost track of my younger sibling, and I've looked in all the normal places where he usually plays. No one else has seen him in a while either, and I'm worried he might've gone into the... sketchier part of town. If you could find him, I'll give you anything you want. I've got some money saved up, or maybe I have something at home to trade... alienrabitt: What exactly do you mean by sketchy, anyway? Senri: Well, you probably know this is arguably the biggest trading city in the Burning Blight. Obviously you need places to store those goods. There's an old storage depot at the far end of town, but some of those areas are owned by... seedier individuals. If Raz is over there, I'm afraid someone might decide he'd be a... valuable asset.

The thought forces her to pause for a second before she continues. "I just need someone to go look and make sure that he's not over there."

so I remember a trillion years back you said that Daedalus likely had a secondary love interest from Somewhere and part of me was like “is this her” but this is a Teenager and we’re all in our 20s so Probably No

Demo: Say no more; we're on the case. ...Unless it's more info on the case; then probably say what you can. Senri: Well, he's... about this tall, twelve years old. I... shoot, I can't remember what he was wearing today, but he always has his toy laser gun with him. It's white with red markings, the only one like it that I've seen. Does that help?

did you give him the fucking Nuka Blaster

Demo: Well, unless this seedy part of town is the hip hangout for teens and tweens, I think we'll be able to work with that. Senri: It shouldn't be, not for kids his age. I've told him not to go there, but... Please, just help me find him. The depot is down this alleyway and to the right. Just follow the road and eventually it'll be on your left. Demo: Alright then, let's get going! The group leaves through the other side of the alleyway and start following her directions.

Daedalus: Sheesh, finding lost kids? The IT has a weird classification for "emergencies" sometimes, huh? alienrabitt: What's gotten into you, anyway? Helping people find little kids isn't really your thing.

Demo: Well, I helped pull you out of the ground like a potato; might as well try to beat somebody to the punch for once.

alienrabitt: D--don't say that!! Ugh! This is somebody's brother we're talking about!

Demo: And? So were you; but they definitely don't know that now. So let's try not to make the same mistake twice, alright? Save the kids before there's trouble; not when they're gods that wind up falling in love with a god magnet. Collin: It's like a good intention buried under several feet of manure... alienrabitt: A salt brick road to a shit brick house; but at least it's paved with good intentions?

probably the first and only time you won’t make fun of me for saying “shit brick” instead of “brick shit”

Daedalus: Alright alright, as funny as it is roasting Demo like a grumpy marshmallow, I think we're getting close. Geez, this place really has seen better days though...

On the group's left is a line of large storage depots, just as Senri said. The structures are very clearly lacking maintenance and appear to have scorch marks along most of the outer walls on the right side of each building. Some depots even have holes hastily patched with clay or other various materials. A few men seem to be moving items in and out of a few of the storage buildings, although the workers are fairly spaced out between depots. alienrabitt: So, how should we be doing this? Surely we can't just check all of these one by one...

Demo: I think there's juuuust enough sand blowing around for me to be able to sneak some anubis out; but we'd have to wait for them to come back; and we're kind of a big group... Fawkes: ... How stealthy can your anubis be? Demo: As quiet as the wind and as dark as the shadows. Unless someone would just really get upset about seeing more sand somewhere, my anubis will be fine. Fawkes: Sounds perfect. Could you have one look around the far side of that last depot in the row? I think I just saw someone suspicious go around the corner outside, but I wasn't able to zoom in fast enough to get a better look. Gently tilting her head in the direction briefly, Demo watches the smallest cloud of black grains of sand blow off towards where Fawkes mentioned. "It'll lay low from here." After a minute or so, the anubis returns to Demo and reports back to her. Two men were holding a small child up by the arms, and a taller, third man with a mechanical right arm was giving orders to the first two men while twirling a white and red gun in his metallic hand. After a few more moments getting the child under control, they took a side entrance through a hole in the wall on that side. Demo: ...Sounds like we found our guys. At least three of 'em; one's got a prosthetic right arm. They took some side entrance through a hole. Hopefully they aren't expecting company. Fawkes: I would expect more company. That seems like a large building for only three people to use.

Daedalus: It's really weird to hear you get so tactical, you know that?

Fawkes: I was originally designed to be a military turret, you know. Sometimes the files come in handy.

Collin: So we go in through that side entrance; then what?

Fawkes: I'll try and do one final sweep to identify hostiles. We priortize targets, take them out, and save the child. Any thoughts? Demo: Sounds good to me. Worst case we hope Azreldeh's riding around in someone's shadow again; though I guess she wouldn't be able to drag someone with her with the magic she has after what she pulled in Lobotomy... Fawkes: Alright. These are probably simple thugs, so I doubt lethal force will be necessary. Now we just need to wait for a moment...

The group waits as some of the other depot works in the other buildings continue their own work. Once they are suitably busy, the group hurries across the open space between the street and the depot and ducks behind the outer wall. They soon find the side entrance and sneak inside.

The inside of the building is full of tall racks full of various crates and other items, with a larger open space in the center. Everyone hides behind a few boxes on the closest shelf while Fawkes pokes his visor just over a box. He scans side to side for a few minutes, then turns back to the group. Whispering under the cover of the people moving and talking inside, he relays his findings to the others.

Fawkes: Alright, definitely more than three. There are at least fifteen people here, although luckily only two have any sort of firearm, and they're both up on a balcony. I can take one out with several tranquilizer rounds if you can dispatch the other one, Collin.

Collin: Yeah, I can do that, no problem. After that, should we just group up and take out the others?

Fawkes: I think pairs will work best. You and Jay, Daedalus and Clair, and Demo and myself. Any objections? Demo: ...Yeah, I guess that's fine. Do your thing, then. Fawkes: Alright, on three then. One... two... three!

Collin and Fawkes dash out from their hiding space and fire simultaneously up toward a balcony across from them. Two surprised shouts and thuds echo out in response, spurring the rest of the group into action as the people inside start to go on the alert. Sneaking through the shelves, Demo attempts to group up with Fawkes as planned, while Jay heads for Collin. Clair, unsure of what to do in the commotion, sticks close to Daedalus. As the pairs come out of hiding, the gang members inside pick up various pieces of junk or tools as makeshift weapons and start charging in to meet them. The gang is far outmatched by the strength of the IT crew, however, and quickly start falling one by one. Half of the gang is down by the time a voice finally shouts, reverberating off the walls of the depot, "Enough!"

The man with the mechanical arm grabs Raz by the back of his shirt and deploys a razor sharp blade from the underside of his prosthetic wrist, then quickly holds it against the boy's throat. "One more move and I slice the kid open like a pig!"

okay so idk if you intended this or not but all I could visualize for this dude was that pirate captain from fucking Treasure Planet

Glaring coldly, Demo backs down first. "Put the kid down...he doesn't have anything to do with this." ?: In the long run, absolutely. Right now though, he makes some great leverage. Now, why don't you all be good little boys and girls and get on your knees right over there? I think we should have a little chat before you give anyone else a fucking concussion. No sudden moves, remember... 

He motions with the knife for a moment and gestures toward a small area fifteen feet or so away from him. Reluctantly, Jay backs down as well; Clair, offering no resistance to begin with, follows suit. Fawkes, Collin, and Daedalus follow suit behind them, although Daedalus can hardly keep himself still.

?: Now, let's start simple, alright? The name's Cidney, and within a few minutes I'll have the power to hold this entire stinking trade center in my palm. Should've figured someone would come looking for this little brat, but I didn't figure they'd send a group so....spirited. Guess I should've tried to snatch the kid faster, but eh, what can you do? Demo: What the hell are you going on about? Cidney: Not surprised you don't know. Most people don't, as it turns out. So, quick storytime for ya, back before the war, one of the old governments decided to try making an orbital laser cannon, but not just any laser, no no. This sucker is solar powered; literally infinite use, at least until the sun burns out in another few billion years or whatever. The problem is that the whole thing was still in the testing phase before shit hit the fan. Fast forward to now, and the whole thing is still useless without its target designator. Do you know how hard it is to find a target system for a weapon that no one knows about? Demo: Clearly somebody had to know if you know. So I'm guessing you found one...or someone that could make one. Cidney: Well, I did have a diagram of it, which helped when trying to look around and ask people what they knew. Rumor after rumor led me aaaall the way to here, and wouldn't you fuckin' know it...

He whistles, and one of the surviving thugs walks over and takes over holding Raz hostage, holding their own knife against his neck. Cidney steps over and grabs Raz's toy gun from a table, twirling it around his finger as he walks in front of the group. "Hiding in plain sight." alienrabitt: You've gotta be kidding me... Cidney: I know, right? The fucking kid could've brought the wrath of the fuckin' sun on this city at any moment in the last couple of months if it weren't for one teeny tiny detail...

He grabs the barrel of the gun, pushes it inward, twists it back and forth in a specific pattern, and releases the barrel. The gun makes an ominous charging up tone, forcing Cidney to hold the gun much more carefully. "The damn safety was on. Lucky him, right?" Demo: What the hell do you think you're gonna get out of this place if you blast it to bits with the sun?! Cidney: The best weapons are the ones you never have to fire, sweetheart. With the threat of annihilating entire buildings with a single shot, they'll have no choice but to turn over control of the city to me. 'Course that's just the start of everything, but I won't bore you with that. Back to you guys, then. I'm feeling pretty generous, so I'll tell you what. I pick one of you to test this bad boy out on, and the rest of you get to live! 'Course, I'm taking all your stuff and selling you to slavers the next town over, but you'll be alive at least, right? Demo: You won't get away with this... Cidney: That's what everyone says. Hmm, now then...

Fawkes: Just pick me.

Collin: Fawkes, no!

Cidney: What, are you kidding me? Who's gonna cry about a melted hunk of slag and circuitry? You're worth way more in parts, frankly.

Cidney makes a dramatic exaggeration of him trying to make a choice, then finally points the gun in Clair's direction. "Alright, you're up, blondie. On your feet." Flinching as she's called upon, Clair shakily stands up. "...F-fine...just leave them alone..." Daedalus stands up right after her. "Absolutely not. I'll go."

Cidney: My my, what unexpected chivalry! You don't look like the type for sacrifice, buddy!

I mean, he looks like his “twin,” and that’s right up Collin’s alley, soooo...yeah he does?

Daedalus: Shove it up your ass, "buddy". Leave her out of this.

Cidney: Hmm... Y'know what, sure! This should be good.. You're free to get back down, sweetheart. Demo practically attempts to launch herself off the floor, but Jay yanks her down, desperately attempting to keep her from getting anyone else hurt as she swears profusely and attempts to shove Jay away from her with an equal sense of desperation and anger. Clair, frozen to the spot with fear and heartbreak, collapses to her knees, tears already beginning to fall as she barely chokes out an objection that she cannot back with any effort, instantly overwhelmed with grief. Cidney points with his gun a fair distance away from everyone else, and Daedalus resolvedly strides over to the spot, turning back to stare him down. Cidney pulls the trigger while pointing directly at Daedalus' feet, then casually blows the barrel off. A loud sizzling noise can be heard from above the roof as it seems to get brighter outside. A few seconds later, a piercing column of sunlight rips through the roof of the building and slams down where Daedalus is standing. Air rushes away from the intense heat source as the ground cracks underneath the beam.

The beam's width begins to shrink at the bottom, gradually tapering into a single point as if it were being pulled inwards. Cidney's look of confidence finally breaks into one of confusion as the beam starts to rise upward off the ground. A towering humanoid figure of golden light appears to be sucking in the sun's laser as it pushes it upwards, while a fully armored Daedalus begins to push himself off the floor. His armor is clearly based on that of a knight's, but significantly streamlined and modernized, with mesh-like accents around the shoulders and stomach. Both the figure and Daedalus stand to their full height, and a moment later the beam is completely consumed, and a blast of blinding light shakes the very ground.

When the light clears, a huge armored figure stands behind Daedalus, banners and tapestries with depictions of a sun emblazoned upon it. Its face is a golden mask with an expression of joy and determination, as though excited to face whatever challenge stands before it. The mesh parts of Daedalus' armor now have a fire raging inside of them like a roaring forge. The figure behind Daedalus raises its arms in the air triumphantly, and a deep voice bellows forth.

?: THE DAWN BREAKS ONCE MORE!

THE SHADOW REMAINS CAST

Demo: Wh-what?! What the hell is...?! The figure bends over so that its "face" is next to Daedalus', then casually glances over at him and speaks in a much softer voice. "I think you know what to do." A harsh grinding noise and a rush of air is Cidney's only warning as Daedlaus suddenly lunges forward, grabbing both him and the thug holding Raz hostage as he blazes through a charge, knocking Raz over but leaving him otherwise unharmed. The thug is then hurled head over heels into one of the shelving units, then crashes to the ground. Cidney however is hurled straight up toward the ceiling. Daedalus kicks off the ground and launches himself clear to the ceiling, conjuring an enormous searing halberd on his way up. He then kicks off the ceiling and drives the weapon straight through Cidney's stomach as they plummet back down to the ground.

Once back on the ground, Daedalus removes the weapon and allows it to dissipate. He calmly turns his back to Cidney and takes three confident steps toward the others before promptly collapsing to the ground, the flames in his armor fading away. Stunned by the display, Jay is easily pushed off of Demo, who quickly gets off the floor and rushes over to Daedalus. Forcing her legs to function, Clair shakily stands once more, stumbling initially as she hurries over but drops to his side just as quickly.

Demo: What was all that?!

Clair: A-are you okay?! Daedalus: I... think we... figured out... the fire thing.

The armored figure strides over to where the laser target sits on the ground and picks it up in one hand. He glances at the few remaining thugs in the room and then emphasizes one single command by crushing the weapon in his grip. "BEGONE!"

beGONE, THUG

The thugs, to their credit, quickly accept the man's request and scramble out of the depot, running for their lives. "There, that settles that business." alienrabitt: Who...who are you? ?: Hmm? Oh, of course, we haven't properly met the rest of you yet, have we? I am-

The sound of a crowd of people shouting and approaching the building suddenly drifts through the open doors of the building. "- going to have to answer that question in a bit! I'll see you on the IT!"

With no further explanation, he bursts into a shower of sparks, letting the remains of the gun drop to the ground. Demo: ...Come on, help me get him off the floor; we need to get that kid back to his sister and get the hell out of here, we've got a corpse to answer for now... Fawkes approaches the trio and lifts Daedalus off the ground. "I'll handle him. This armor makes him much heavier than normal."

Collin quickly gets up and hurries over to Raz. "C'mon bud, we need to get you back home. You're safe now, don't worry."

Still stunned from the events of the day, Raz quietly nods and glances sadly at the remains of his gun as the group makes a hasty escape out of the depot. As they exit the side of the building, they run into Senri, who seems just as surprised to find them there.

Senri: Oh, it's you! Wait, please tell me you found- Raz!

Raz doesn't even try to let go of Collin's hand as he sprints forward into Senri's arms, yanking him forward slightly. The pair embrace tightly as Senri spins him around a couple of times. She brushes the back of his head as she speaks again. "Oh thank you, thank you... I'm so glad you're okay..."

She looks back up at the others, tears running down her face. "Thank you so much for finding him. I didn't realize it was going to be that much trouble or I would've warned you!" Demo: Sweetheart, I don't think anybody could've warned us for all that. If he brings home something like that again, maybe check for batteries or something next time first. Senri: Wait, what are you... are you saying that was because of...? Demo: Yes. Senri: ... Oh.

She seems almost too stunned to properly change her facial expression for a second.

Collin: Wait, how did you know we would be coming out here this way anyway?

Senri: Huh? Oh, well that's easy, at least. I know most of this city like the back of my hand, and a good reporter never uses the front door.

Fawkes: ... Well, you can't argue with that logic. Demo: Right, a reporter. ...Look, this story's a little big for your breeches; I don't think you're ready for this yet. Senri: Hey, don't underestimate me just because I'm small! But... this time, I have more important things to deal with right now. Is there anything I can do to repay you all? Demo: Yeah, just keep your brother-- oof!

Demo's cut off as Jay elbows her in the ribs.

alienrabitt: I think we're good for now! We'll...let you know sometime, though. Senri: Alright, my newstand is in the marketplace when you need to find me! I think everyone's inside the depot now, so you should be good to go if you hurry. See you later!

The pair hurry off ahead of the others, quickly making their way back home.

Collin: All in favor of following their example?

Daedalus: ... Aye... Demo: Do you even have to ask? Let's get the hell out of here.

me, visibly attempting to reel in the BPD salt, knowing full well there’s no reason to be angry:

The group quickly makes their way back through the streets and the marketplace to the IT. The crowd is now so abuzz with the news from the depot that no one even really pays any mind to them as they pass back through, and eventually they wind up back in the console room, safe and sound. The instant the door closes behind them, a glowing ball of light appears in the console room with them and then bursts back into the masked figure from earlier. "Ah, home sweet home." Nydins: What the hell is that?! ?: Oh, my apologies! I didn't see you there! Forgive my rudeness for earlier and now. As I was saying earlier, I am Voltarus, embodiment of the Radiant aspect of the stars, twin god of the art of Astral Sorcery, and companion to your friend Daedalus, at your service.

He prostrates himself in a deep bow, then rises back up to his full height. "It is good to finally meet all of you in person." alienrabitt: Twin? So there's a second one somewhere? Voltarus: Of course!

The mask where his head should be suddenly flips like a coin, revealing a silver side with a much more calm and blissful smile, its eyes closed peacefully. Voltarus' body suddenly changes color and shape, swapping heavy armor for graceful robes of deep blue and black, studded with diamonds. A short bob of "hair" circles around its head, although an aurora would be a more apt description of its appearance. The new figure folds its hands in front of itself and gives a small curtsy.

?: Ah, my turn already? Well, I am Vintillo, embodiment of the Serene aspect of the stars, twin god of the art of Astral Sorcery, and companion to your friend Daedalus. It is truly a pleasure.

vinti skinny mocha chai god

Demo: A-are you a golem or something?! Vintillo giggles, a surprisingly sweet and bubbly sound. "Of course not! We are not such a mundane being. We are merely two sides of the body that is the heavens and the stars. In the same way a flame can both burn and illuminate, so too do the stars burn and combust with unparalleled ferocity, and yet guide us through the world and inspire awe and wonder... Do I make sense? It's been a while since I've given this speech, hmm hmm! Demo: S-so you're...stars? Vintillo: Mm, yes and no? It's a little more complex than that, but... alienrabitt: I think she's just trying to figure out if you just twisted a physical neck around like an owl or something... Vintillo: Oh! No, we don't have a neck!

Collin: You say that a little too casually... Daedalus: So.... hang on... Is this some bullshit... like what Collin had until recently?

Vintillo: Ah, good question! Our connection is similar but notably different. As you can see, we can project ourselves into the material world already. In addition, our connection is a contract rather than a bond. At the time of your resurrection into this world, we were given the opportunity to enter the physical realm once more, although we had to lend you our strength in order to do so. If you decide that you would rather not have our strength, or if we deem you unfit to wield it, the contract can be broken at any time.

Daedalus: I don't remember.... anything like that happening.

Vintillo: It was all a bit of a blur for even us, truthfully. The process took its toll on us, which is why we were unable to be present immediately upon arriving. Luckily someone fed us energy directly from a star, which greatly accelerated the process! alienrabitt: So, do the rest of the gods know about you? Collin: I certainly don't, so I have a feeling they might not either....

Vintillo: This is most likely the case. We are... not quite from the same realm as each other. They may praise our influence, but they will not know us. But I'm sure they wouldn't mind a new companion though, right? Hmm hmm!

[muffled da vinci noises]

Daedalus: Listen, I appreciate the honesty, but... this armor is hot as hell and my entire body hurts. Can we hold off on this until tomorrow or something?

Vintillo: Oh, of course. We will leave you with your friends for now. Let us know when you wish to speak again!

Vintillo's body dissolves into a sparkling mist and then vanishes entirely.

Daedalus: Alright, well, I think you can put me down now, Tiny. I'm pretty sure I can hobble to my room at this point.

Fawkes: If you insist.

He moves his arms to let Daedalus down onto the ground. Daedalus stumbles for a second, but finally manages a shaky standing position.

Daedalus: Okay... I think I can do this. Someone mind walking with me just in case? Clair: Um...yeah, of course! The pair make their way down the hallway to Daedalus' room. Stepping inside, Daedalus slowly moves over to his couch and rests his hand on the back of it to steady himself. "Okay, this armor sucks to wear when you're tired. Can you close your eyes for a second?" Covering her eyes with her hands, Clair nods. "Go ahead." A loud clattering sound of metal suddenly dropping onto something further away in the room rings out for a second, followed by the soft thump of something dropping into the couch. "Alright, you're good." Letting her hands fall down to her sides, Clair glances over to the couch. Daedalus is now lying in the closest available seat, already changed into his normal shirt and a pair of shorts. His armor is still wobbling slightly on the rack across the room as it comes to rest. Letting out a long sigh, he leans his head back and speaks a moment later. "You can sit if you want to. I'm... sorry for scaring you back there." Clair: ...Did you know you'd be okay? Daedalus: It was... a weird feeling. It almost felt as if I needed to do it. Maybe that was mister and miss sunshine's way of nudging me along so that they could recharge, or maybe I was just... stubborn or something. The whole thing feels like a haze now. I guess more than anything, I just couldn't bear to let that happen to you. Clair: M-me?! What about me?! I...you can't stand the thought of losing your only friend, but if those two hadn't been there, I would've lost everything! I lost my parents; I lost Zenith; and I couldn't do anything to change that; and then all of a sudden I get wrapped up in another situation where I'm totally helpless, and all you can think about is--!! Do...do you seriously just think so little about yourself that you thought you could just...risk throwing yourself away like that?! I...I just...!! Why does this keep happening?! Why does everybody...?

Crying to the point where she can quite literally no longer stand it, Clair falls to her knees, burying her face in her hands. "...Why does everybody I care about keep trying to leave me like this?!"

quit being dramatic and making everything about you, ffs, this is what I hate about you

Daedalus is quiet for a moment. He pushes himself back up and walks over to the side of the couch, then drops back down to sit on the floor with his back against its side. "I wasn't trying to leave you. For the first time in my life, I think I felt like I could actually protect someone; that I wanted to, even. I know that wasn't fair to you given... literally everything else."

He takes off his sunglasses and sets them on the floor next to him. "I... really am sorry, Clair. This was probably the last thing you needed right now. Is there... Is there any way I can make this right with you?" Clair: Just...just don't do that again...! Everybody keeps leaving me behind; I just...I don't want to keep replacing people...I want to help everybody; but I can't even do anything...I can't fight; I can't protect anyone...what am I supposed to do...? Daedalus: I think it's time we really started trying to figure out what exactly you can do. You're half kleivenn now, that's gotta mean something. Maybe you can't summon spears or shoot missiles or whatever, but there's gotta be something you can do with all that magic. Clair: ...M-maybe, but I don't know what...I thought that if something like this happened, I'd be able to do something in the moment, but I couldn't do anything at all... Daedalus: Maybe you just need a different push or something. First though, can we continue the conversation off the floor? This isn't exactly helping my- agh, fuck!

He moves to pull himself up onto his feet but suddenly winces and drops back down, clutching at the left side of his chest. "Okay, that still hurts..." Clair: ...What's wrong? Daedalus: I uh.... may have cooked myself slightly in all of that back there. Didn't think that was possible but shows what I know. The adrenaline's wearing off so now the pain's starting to kick in. I'll live, just hurts. Guess I had that much coming, though. Clair: Um, well, l-let's get you off the floor first...I guess XL has a way to help... Standing up, Clair offers Daedalus her hand. Daedalus hesitates for a second as an odd look crosses his face momentarily, but then takes her hand. Clair: Wh-what? Is there something wrong...? Daedalus: No, it's... Hang on, let me just sit for a second.

He slides over to the couch and takes back his old seat. "I'm... not really used to touching people yet. I know that sounds stupid but it's true." Clair: Oh! I, uhh...I can stop? Daedalus: No, you're... you're fine. It's just that historically speaking, anyone touching me meant bad news. Sorry, I've gotten us off track again, shit. Listen, I... I promise I won't do anything like what I did back there again. Clair: Believe me, the last thing I'd want to do is hurt you. And...I'm gonna hold you to that; so don't let me down, okay? ...But seriously, how badly are you burned? If it's something small, you could probably avoid XL, but if it's bad, you seriously need help. Daedalus: I'm not well done, don't worry. I try to stay further on the rare side of the cooking spectrum. Clair: Haha; alright. Just make sure you get it checked if it starts bothering you. Daedalus: I'll keep it in mind. So... are we good? You're not angry or anything? Clair: I'm still shaken, but I think I'm calming down. I'll be okay... Daedalus: We can still talk about it if you want. I'm not kicking you out or anything. Taking a seat beside Daedalus on the couch, Clair lets out a sigh of relief. "I'm just glad you're still here! Watching you walk over like that felt like someone just straight up pulled the wind out of me..." Daedalus: I guess I underestimated how bad that was gonna be for you guys. It's strange, honestly. Not so long ago everyone was probably glad to be rid of me, and now suddenly it's a big deal when I'm in danger. I guess I'm just not used to people feeling that way about me. Clair: I mean, you still mean something to them too...they might not be close friends or anything, but they do care... Daedalus: Maybe so. I'm just not in the habit of thinking about it. Guess I've got more to work on than I thought.. Clair: Probably doesn't help that you spend a lot of time in here... Daedalus: ... Well, you've got me there too. If this conversation was a game of chess, you'd be kicking my ass right about now. Clair: Haha! I've never actually played chess. Or...most games, I guess. Daedalus: Really? What have you played? Clair: Um, well; I did draw a lot back when I was younger; but I guess that doesn't really count. I used to draw all the interesting things I saw when dad took me to visit other places... Daedalus: Huh, go figure. I'm guessing you don't have any of your drawings now, though...? Clair: I...actually have one sketchbook I managed to sneak around. It was from our trip to some snowy place I haven't seen again; I don't know the name... Daedalus: No kidding? Well, I'm glad you were able to keep something. Would you mind showing me some time? Clair: Of course! I'll have to find it again first, though. I put it in my bookshelf; but I've done a lot of reading since... Daedalus: What, you get to read books all day but I'm the one being a shut-in? I think I smell a double standard somewhere on this couch...

that might just be your fucking burnt flesh

also now that I think about it this game is basically what you did with that gun

His normal teasing demeanor starts to sneak back into his tone as he grins cheekily at her. Clair's face turns a little pinkish red. "W-well, I can't defend myself if anything happens outside, so I just...stay in." Daedalus: Bah, don't be like that. There are plenty of people on here that would be able to keep you safe if something happened. Don't be afraid to live a little, you're safe here. Clair: ...At the least, I'd like to know what I can do before I wind up going out again. I've tried asking Karumet, but she keeps ignoring me for the most part. All she's really said is that, whatever I can do, I can do it because of what I wanted when I tried to get back up; but everything in that moment is so hazy, I wouldn't know where to start... Daedalus: Oh, you meant going outside. I just thought you meant around the IT, sheesh... Well, do you remember anything from when all of that happened? Any detail is a possible clue at this stage. Clair: I just wanted...I wanted Zenith to be okay. I felt like I really messed up by being there...I shouldn't have gone back then either...now it just kind of feels like, if I go anywhere, people will get hurt or worse...and that's about the last thing I want... Daedalus: Hmm...

He starts getting lost in thought as he processes Clair's words, unintentionally staring straight at Clair. Clair: ...Um...are you okay? Daedalus: ... Oh, sorry. It's just that last bit you said got me thinking. If hurting people is the last thing you want, maybe your powers aren't meant to hurt? Clair: ...Maybe not; but if I could defend people, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have gotten shot with the sun... Daedalus: You've got a point there... What about healing? It doesn't get much more opposite from pain than that, right? Clair: I...haven't tried that, actually. But if you don't want to be touched, I'm sure you definitely don't want me trying to touch where you're hurt... Daedalus: I'll survive. It helps that I'm expecting it, for starters. Ever so gingerly, Clair attempts to touch the area where Daedalus was burned; however she makes no effort to remove his shirt. Nothing seems to happen, and Clair pulls her reach away. "...I...don't think that worked." Daedalus: Doesn't feel like it, either. You... don't think it's the shirt, do you? Clair: Maybe? B-but you don't need to take it off or anything; I can just...wait for somebody else to get hurt somehow? Daedalus: I don't think I need to take the whole thing off, you know. Look, if it helps you figure out what you can do... I can deal with it. I sorta owe you after today anyway.

Not waiting for a response, he takes one deep breath and then lifts up his shirt up just above his stomach. A bright red patch of skin stretches along most of the revealed area. A little surprised to see him lift his shirt, Clair turns her head away almost immediately. "Uhhm...! Ah, right; I-I guess it won't work too well if I can't see where I should...haha..."

Nervously, Clair slowly returns her gaze back to Daedalus, but only long enough to see where to place her hands. Closing her eyes, she returns her hands to Daedalus' side. With a small, but not harsh, flash of pink light, the burned area returns to normal, with little more sting to it than an average sunburn. Daedalus: ... Wow, uh... That was fast. Clair: H-huh? ...Oh! Oh, you're better now! I...uhh...y-you can put your shirt back... Daedalus: Right, right.

He lowers his shirt back down and tentatively pats his stomach slightly. "Man, that really did help though. Looks like this place finally has someone that can heal people. Quickly, I mean. Are... you alright?" Clair: Yeah, I'm just a little winded, I think... Daedalus: I guess using magic for the first time is pretty draining... Do you need to lie down or something? I can take you back to your room if you want. Clair: N-no, I'm okay...! Just...probably shouldn't get up too fast. What about you...? Daedalus: I'm... definitely feeling better, honestly. Shame about the skin-to-skin thing though. Here's hoping no one gets their literal butt kicked and needs your help before you find a way to get through clothes.

okay so basically I know why Clair’s powers are “held back” and the only vague comment I’m gonna make to keep it no spoilo is that they’re like that because her magic and stuff draws from an unexpected source

Clair: I...might be able to figure out how to do it without touching people; but I think it'll take practice... Daedalus: Oh I'm sure you can. You're always full of surprises like that. 'Course, not sure how you're gonna practice that, but y'know.... Clair: I'll probably just wait for someone to bang their knee at breakfast or something. Seems easy enough... Daedalus: Guess so. Just don't start punching people or something; that'll just get 'em annoyed with you, trust me. Clair: Haha, I won't! I'm not exactly tough enough for it to hurt, anyway. Daedalus: Maybe we need to start taking you to the gym then. We'll have you benching 250 in no time. Clair: 2:50? Nah, I'd be benched the whole time! Daedalus groans and covers his face. "Please no, not corny jokes. Someone get that laser gun again, I need out of here." Clair: H-hey, it wasn't that bad...! Daedalus flops over on the edge of the couch. "Nope, it's killed me. Farewell, world." Clair: ...Well, I can't heal that. Guess I better go show everyone your sunglasses since it's all we'd have left...maybe we'll make a little memorial thing at the breakfast table with em; people will get all emotional and stuff; it'll be great. Daedalus: Yeah, and then I'll haunt you all from beyond so you have to deal with me forever... Although actually lying here is making me realize how tired I am. I should probably take a power nap or something. Clair: I don't blame you; I'd be pretty tired if I had to go through all that too. Alright, I'll leave you be, then.

Getting up from the couch, Clair heads for the door. Perking his head up, he looks at her as she leaves. "Don't forget to look for that notebook of yours." Clair: I won't! Just don't expect it to look too good; I wasn't even 10 yet. With that, Clair leaves the room. Daedalus puts his head back down and is asleep within a minute.

the next log is gonna be something I find Particularly Interesting and I can’t wait to expand on it