#also all the assets I have I drew myself so shrug it is also just using my own art

[lastoneout]

as much as part of me doesn't want to associate my tumblr TOO heavily with my twitch streaming, part of me is entertaining the idea of having a cohesive theme across my platforms and if I was gonna change the current icon/appearance/theme it would just be for all that...

and also in the honor of that anon who said, after sending me a big hunk of anon hate, added "oh wait you're a furry ofc you don't read the news" like maybe I can prevent stupid discourse but simply being way more upfront about the furry vtuber thing lmao

idk @ long time followers and mutuals would you be too heartbroken if I did a mild re-brand? or anyone who has feedback really, I have kinda built my twitch following more or less separate from my tumblr one which is nice, but it does mean I think people here follow me expecting different content than the twitch people(more or less, there is overlap ofc and I am eternally grateful for my tumblr peeps who check out my streams and vice-versa <3) so that's worth considering as well...still the content of my blog wouldn't change AT ALL and I'd still be lastoneout ofc you can pry that username from my cold dead hands, but just my icon and blog theme and stuff?

Yeah, def would appreciate feedback lol

[vs-redemption]

Hey! Can i request tamaki,mirio and nejire with a s/o who have a very powerfull quirk?

From Cindy: Thanks for requesting the big three! It was interesting trying to imagine them reacting to a powerful quirk. I had fun thinking of the quirks though. I hope this is what you were looking for anon!

Mirio

Mirio had no idea just how powerful your quirk was until he’d already been dating you for a few months.

You were a support course student at a college outside of Japan, and you had met Mirio when he’d come to your school to do a study abroad program after graduating from UA High School.

You both shared some general studies classes together and Mirio began to rely on you to help him whenever he struggled with homework because you were one of the only students on campus who spoke fluent Japanese.

It was easy for you to fall for a positive and passionate person like Mirio, and he went head over heels for your kindness, smarts, and accent just as quickly.

Your tutoring sessions turned into study dates, which turned into real dates, which ended with you eventually becoming an official item.

Mirio had inquired about your quick once or twice during your time together, but you often brushed off the questions.

“It’s an emitter type quirk that isn’t very useful.”

Your hero course boyfriend never even thought to push the subject any further, but he was very surprised when he found out you had signed up for the school recruitment event that was similar to the Sports Festivals held at UA.

“Don’t they hold this event for hero students to show off and find jobs with pro hero agencies?” Mirio asked you.

“Basically,” you answered with a shrug. “But support course students can use it as a chance to show off their products as well.”

Mirio was worried that it might be a little dangerous, but couldn’t bring himself to discourage you from doing something you wanted to do.

On the day of the recruitment, Mirio makes sure to come support and cheer for you whenever he has time between the events he was participating in.

He was happy to see you doing well in one of the obstacle races until you suddenly came up to a part of the course with thick giant walls blocking the way.

None of your support items seemed to be helpful with the roadblock and it looked like you might not be able to continue the event.

Imagine Mirio’s surprise when you sigh in annoyance before reeling back your fist and punching a giant hole straight through the cement slab and walking past it as if it were just a minor inconvenience.

He’s shocked, of course, but also super excited and proud of you.

“Babe! Why aren’t you in the hero course?! Your quirk is amazing!”

You explain that controlling the sheer force of your power was more trouble than it was worth, and that making support items for heroes had always been more fulfilling for you anyway.

Mirio respects your feelings, but now that he knows how strong you are, he can’t help but ask you to work out with him from then on.

It makes him happy that he can finally do something with you that he excels at since you’d been the one helping him since the beginning.

He will also add your strength to the list of things he brags about when talking about you with other people.

Amajiki

Amajiki already knew the basics of your quirk when he met you since it was on the resume you’d used to apply as a sidekick at his agency.

He had no idea what to expect though at first since your ability to steal other people’s “kinetic energy” was pretty unique.

“Whenever I touch something that’s in motion, I absorb the energy and use it for myself!”

You could literally steal energy from ANYTHING that was moving, be it a small empty can rolling back and forth on the sidewalk or a four thousand ton train racing along its tracks at full speed.

Amajiki learned during your first patrol together that it was even more incredible as it sounded.

“Ah! My bag!” A woman’s scream drew your attention to a man running down the street with a purse he’d just stolen clutched in his arms.

Before Amajiki can even react, you are already running after the man, high fiving people walking in the opposite direction and tapping the hoods of moving cars as you run by to use their energy to boost your own speed.

You catch up with the man in the blink of an eye and tackle him, using his own speed against him to fuel your quirk. You successfully restrain him and wrestle the purse out of his arms.

“You were so fast,” Amajiki says after the incident is resolved. He means it as praise, but he can’t help but feel embarrassed that he hadn’t helped at all. “How did you overpower him though? He was twice your size.”

“I can convert the kinetic energy I collect to do anything I want!” You say happily, “that includes increasing my speed, strength, jumping power, grip and more!”

You start to remind Amajiki of Mirio with the positive energy you give off and the incredible control you master over your quirk.

He is conflicted because he admires you so much, and knows you’re an asset to his team.

On the other hand, he feels like you deserve much more than to just be his sidekick. The poor boy worries that he is holding you back.

He casually brings up the topic of you starting your own agency one day, but is surprised to see how disappointed and sad you look at the very thought.

“Is this your way of politely asking me to leave because you know I have a crush on you?”

You start to apologize for possibly making him uncomfortable and try to explain that you’d tried to keep your feelings in check, but it was hard when he was such a cool hero and amazing friend.

Your words slowly turned him into a blushing, flustered mess.

YOU had a crush on HIM?!

“No, that’s not what I meant!” He begins to stutter about how amazing he thinks you are and how you deserve more recognition, not realizing that you were getting flustered too now.

Somehow, you both make it through the nerves and agree to continue working together at the agency.

Amajiki even finds the courage to ask you on a date.

Even after dating for a while, Amajiki still gets overwhelmed by your quirk sometimes, but you make sure to encourage him and boost his self-esteem whenever possible.

Nejire

Nejire knew about you and your quirk long before you even met her.

Her curiosity about you had been peeked the moment she saw you using your mutant ability to transform into some sort of half human, half jaguar badass warrior.

Nejire’s eyes went wide when your hands and feet grew into big spotted paws with razor sharp claws, giving you the ability to run on all fours at crazy speeds, darting around like a real jungle cat.

When the cameras zoomed in, she got a glimpse of your dangerously long fangs and adorable fluffy ears. The reporter on the tv explained that when your quirk was activated, your jaw pressure was double that of an actual tiger.

Nejire became obsessed. Not only was your quirk super strong, but you also looked super cute when you were using it!

She had so many questions!

The first time she has the chance to see you in person is at the tail end of a pretty scary villain encounter.

She’d been doing her best to hold off a couple of beefed up bad guys who’d been harassing some girls when you’d shot out of nowhere, pouncing on top of the biggest looking one and pinning him to the ground effortlessly.

Her breath had caught for a moment when she saw your glowing yellow cat eyes, but she quickly recovered so she could take care of capturing the second criminal.

Once the incident was resolved, she was quick to bounce over to you and thank you for helping her out.

“You seem totally awesome!” She tells you with a huge smile, “We should definitely be friends! Do you have time to grab a bite after your patrol?”

“Um… of course!” you laugh feeling awestruck to be invited to hang out by one of the famous big three heroes from UA.

Both of you head to the nearest diner, and Nejire spends most of the time interrogating you about yourself and your quirk.

“Does it hurt when the claws and fangs grow out?” She asks. She was so excited she was bouncing in her seat. “Are the jaguar features just physical or do you get any cat like instincts too?”

Her questions could sometimes get pretty personal, but you could tell her intentions were innocent. You didn’t mind sharing information about yourself, and hoped you’d get the chance to learn more about her too.

“Hey we should totally team up again real soon!” She tells you before it’s time to head back home.

“I’d be up for that!” you smile happily at her friendliness. “And maybe we could get dinner after?”

“Oh!” She spins around in delight. “Like a date?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling glad she was on the same page. “Like a date.”

You both are basically inseparable from that point onward. Nejire’s playful and bubbly behavior matched your own and you found yourself spending more and more time with her both in and outside of work.

The more she learned about you and your quirk, the more enamored she became. The same was true for you about her.

Gossip magazines were calling you two a power couple even before the relationship was official.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Fifteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to torture and prolonged, vivid depictions of assault. Stay safe!]

"Call tags?" The scribe droned, not even looking up from the terminal.

  Danse only hesitated for a second. "D, N, dash, four zero seven P." 

  The scribe punched in the letters and numbers, and Danse saw the young man visibly jerk in surprise. Rheumy brown eyes stared up at the towering suit of X-01 armor and the scribe's voice squeaked when he hissed, " Danse? "

  The armored man nodded.

  "Are you insane?! Danse--er, Paladin Danse, the elder has been on the warpath ever since you went...sir, he says you're a synth, a traitor to the Brotherhood. You're supposed to be dead! I knew there was something fishy about those reports!" The scribe whispered shakily. He looked incredibly nervous. "Most of us think he's off his rocker, but you try finding a soldier with the balls to tell him that point-blank!"

  "It's comforting that you all have such faith in me." Danse said, meaning every word. "I'm afraid the announcement of my death was a bit...premature."

  The scribe blinked. "Sir, after everything that...the amount of us that would stand by you through anything is the vast majority, I promise. Elder Maxson has locked up Paladin Brandis and-"

  "Tell me he hasn't harmed Brandis." Danse cut him off, relieved when the scribe shook his head hastily. 

  "I think even the elder knows better than to assault one of the most beloved officers in our chapter." The scribe exhaled a long breath, then looked back up at Danse. "Sir, you should know that...well, it may be a bit disappointing to hear, but even if you are a synth, we're still with you, sir." The scribe gave him a salute. 

  Danse's eyes pricked with tears. He couldn't believe that he had the power to inspire such unwavering loyalty. "At ease, soldier. With any luck, this will be a diplomatic engagement. I'll take Knight Vega and be on my way."

  "I...I am unsure if it will be so simple." The scribe admitted. "Ex-Knight Vega has also been confined to the brig since you went AWOL."

  " Ex -knight?"

  "Maxson stripped of her rank, sir. Accused her of conspiring against the Brotherhood. On her end, she maintains her innocence." The scribe shrugged. "I don't understand why he doesn't just exile her or have her stand trial, but he's been dragging his feet the whole-"

  " Bait ." Danse realized. "He's been waiting for me to come back for her, of course . She's our only way into the Institute. Either that or he just wants the satisfaction of killing me himself." He moved past the checkpoint without another word, leaving the scribe to sputter. Danse hoped he wasn't being too self-absorbed when he surmised that the report of his 'death' was no doubt being utilized as a thumbscrew on Elizabeth. Maxson obviously needed a confession; hell, he might even suspect Vega of being the one that tipped Danse off in the first place. 

  No one paid him much mind as he strode across the compound. Though he did intercept a few curious glances, Danse chalked them up to the distinctive armor he was wearing instead of outright suspicion. 

  "Where is the elder?" He gruffed at a crowd of aspirants, counting on the staticky speakers of his helmet to disguise his voice. One of them grimaced.

  "In a mood." She joked, the group of aspirants nodding and laughing amongst themselves. "But if you mean location, he's been hanging around the build site a lot. Watching the progress on Big Lib, you know."

  Danse inclined his head and turned on his heel, making a beeline for the previously-mentioned location while he guiltily recalled the time that he had threatened Vega with an upbraiding for her own quips about Maxson. As he thundered back across the courtyard, he could hear the muttering start up. People were beginning to notice him. His window of opportunity was shrinking; he needed to find Maxson fast . Danse picked up his pace, half-jogging.

  Catching sight of Maxson at the very top of Prime's gantry made Danse feel minute, an insignificant David at the feet of a giant. He swallowed hard, shaking off the unsettling sensation and cueing up his helmet's speakers.

  At the whine of feedback, Ingram glanced up from her console beneath the shelter across the dusty tarmac. "Hey!" She said sharply. "Whoever you are, you don't have clearance to-"

  " Elder Maxson! " Danse roared, ignoring the red-headed proctor in favor of tilting his whole body back to project his voice upwards. " You know why I'm here! "

  " Abomination! " Maxson shouted, sounding almost gleeful . He bolted for the lift, as if he expected Danse to flee. The paladin stood his ground though, patiently waiting for the elder to arrive at the lower level.

  "Danse? You…" Ingram trailed off, scrambling across the square. "Is it really you in there, Danse?"

  "Yes, Proctor." 

  There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more to explain , but Maxson's arrival on the ground effectively cut off Danse's conversation. "I knew you would return, you traitor ." He asserted smugly as he marched over to Danse. "How kind of you to give me the privilege of ending you myself ."

  Danse held up his hands peaceably. "I am unarmed, Maxson. I'm not here for a fight. I am simply here to request the amicable release of...of General Vega." He used the Minutemen title on a whim, watching Arthur's nostrils flare in irritation.

  "Oh General Vega , is it? The Minutemen send a machine to do their dirty work? Or have you already infiltrated their ranks with more of your kind?" Maxson spat. 

  Danse shook his head. "This may come as a shock to you, Elder Maxson, but I had no idea I was a synth." He heard Ingram gasp behind him. Even Maxson looked momentarily startled at his admission and Danse seized the opening to reason, "through the entirety of my career I've done nothing to betray your trust, Arthur. And I never will. Please," Danse implored, "we need General Vega if we hope to eradicate the Institute."

  "You expect me to believe that you wish to eradicate the Institute? You were born of it!" Arthur spat venomously. "You even standing here is an affront to nature, you scum . The Brotherhood does not negotiate with-"

  "Elder Maxson, wait!" Ingram interrupted him sharply. "He's telling the truth. Vega is instrumental to gaining entry to the Institute. Our whole reason for being in the Commonwealth is to destroy the Institute. If we lose this chance-"

  "I will not be spoken down to by my own troops, Proctor!" Maxson raged. 

  "Arthur, listen to me . You and Danse having a pissing match should be the least of our concerns." Ingram raised an eyebrow. "If he meant us harm, I feel like he would have come with a battalion or two. Danse might be a little dense , but he's never lacked battlefield intelligence."

  "This thing isn't Danse, so stop referring to it as such!" 

  "Until proven otherwise, yes, he is . His DNA matched that Institute crap. It's him, Maxson. It's always been him. Sure, you might find it easier to think that the Institute grabbed the real Danse while he was out and about, but I don't think he would be reported as a missing asset if he was supposed to be here." Proctor Ingram theorized as she crossed her arms, her armor frame creaking. 

  "Just give me Elizabeth, Maxson." Danse pleaded. "This isn't a fight you want."

  "Oh, on the contrary. This is the fight I want." Maxson seethed. "A chance to prove Brotherhood superiority once and for all! We will settle this as it is written in the Litany!"

  "You sincerely wish to have a live-fire trial?" Danse asked incredulously, "a Litany trial, Arthur? As I recall, you stated before that you were above such practices."

  "We live in unprecedented times, traitor." Maxson drew himself up to his full height. "My authority has been brought into question again and again. It seems only right that I battle my chief dissenter."

  Danse was at a loss for words. Maxson's behavior was so irrational, he was almost tempted to consider whether the elder himself had been replaced by a synth. But no, voicing that fear would no doubt send Maxson into an even worse froth.

  "When I defeat you, it will finally affirm the truth of the Brotherhood: that we were meant to stand tall atop the corpses of abominations, meant to triumph! " Maxson's eyes were wild as he turned to Ingram. "Proctor, you will bear witness to our Litany agreement. And now, abomination , issue your challenge." The elder demanded.

  "Arthur-"

  " Issue it or be slagged where you stand! " Maxson screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

  Danse had never personally engaged in a Litany trial. His memory of the terminology was hazy at best, but he still made an attempt. "As a Brotherhood of Steel paladin," he began haltingly, saluting and then extending his hand to Maxson. "I am issuing a formal challenge against your authority as elder of this chapter. Through your actions and your deeds, you have proved yourself unfit to lead in my eyes. We will engage in combat under your terms, and should I emerge victorious, I ask that you relinquish General Vega to me."

  "And when I emerge victorious, I will kill you." Maxson stated confidently. 

  "So be it." Danse knew he had very little agency in this matter. Maxson wanted to fight him, and Maxson always got his way. "Your terms, Elder?"

  "No weapons or armor. We fight with nothing but the skills we possess. The first one pushed out of the circle loses." Maxson smirked. "You might be a synth, but a bullet in your head puts you down just as easily as any feral."

  "You give me your word as Elder that you will turn Vega over to the custody of the Minutemen if I win?" Danse insisted, his heart slamming in his chest. Oh God, he would have to fight Maxson. Worse still, he would have to beat him. Arthur's prowess in combat was almost fabled , that story about the deathclaw part of this chapter's mythos.

  "I will give you nothing, creature , and it will be far more than you deserve. But certainly, if you manage to beat me, I'll see to it that your co-conspirator is relinquished to your care." Maxson sneered. "Proctor, send out the announcement that we will have entertainment shortly."

  "Sure thing, Elder." Ingram muttered, sidestepping away as Danse removed his helmet. 

  "I want everyone down here and watching, Ingram!" Arthur called as she departed. "Make sure that traitor Vega is escorted to the combat area." He then chuckled in a self-satisfied manner, no doubt taking note of Danse's stern expression. "Oh don't worry, synth . We showed your precious general all the courtesies that the Brotherhood has to offer while we interrogated her."

  Danse knew that Arthur trying to rile him up was technically a good sign. It meant that the other man was attempting to disperse some of his own nerves. However, it was difficult for him to capitalize upon with the worry of Vega possibly being injured getting added onto the pile of Danse's concerns. The growl erupted from him unintentionally, burring in his chest like a hacksaw. "Maxson, if you-"

  "Do not speak to me, freak ." Arthur hissed.

  Danse stewed as a crowd began to form. At least now they would have an audience. Hundreds of eyes watching his every move, but also watching Maxson's. Danse hoped that the scribe at the gate hadn't just been spouting optimistic nonsense. 

  The paladin emerged from his armor, standing at attention beside the frame as a vertibird whirred by overhead, descending from the Prydwen. Upon their first sight of him, the troops began talking amongst themselves. Danse reasoned that it must be quite the shock for most of them, to see him alive and well. 

  Please be alright, Vega , the paladin begged mentally. Please , Elizabeth .

  He heard her coming long before he saw her, watching the crowd part for a lone knight in power armor. "You're a fuckin' piezashet , y'know that? Just a fuckin' asshole! " Backhand roared, struggling and straining against the iron grip of the knight that was dragging her along. "Let me go , y' fuckin' cockass'n sunuva' fuck! "

  Danse blinked, a bit impressed with the vitriol the general was spitting considering her appearance. She looked like a stretch of bad road, gaunt, both of her eyes ringed yellow-green from faded bruising and her glasses absent. The whole left side of her face bore the distinct grate marks of the Prydwen's catwalks, indicating that she had been slammed against the floor. Her Vault suit was in shambles, half-ribboned and hanging off of her shoulder at a rakish angle, and her hair was a tangled, greasy mess.

  Danse catalogued it all and swiftly tucked it away for later. Compartmentalize . She's alive and ambulatory. Priority is Maxson , he instructed himself sternly. Focus . You can't afford to be distracted right now. You face the elder of the Brotherhood of Steel .

  All of that flew out the window the moment he heard Elizabeth's voice crack. "D... Danse? " She asked tremulously, "Danse, you're alive? "

  Danse nodded, not looking at her. "For better or for worse, I am."

  "I…" Backhand paused. "What's going on, Danse? I-I thought that...I thought you were…"

  Her obvious distress gave Danse an odd rush of guilty comfort. She would have missed him. Had she mourned him when she thought he was dead?

  To hell with it . 

  Danse turned to Elizabeth, carefully tipped her chin up and pressed a corner of the bandanna around his neck to her lips. "For luck." He murmured with a thin smile, cupping the right side of her face so he didn't hurt her. She just stared up at him, those eyes bright with pent-up emotions. The knight securing her coughed awkwardly and Danse stepped back, feeling Vega's gaze on him even as he moved to face Maxson.

  Ingram cleared her throat and announced above the rising hubbub, "this is a Litany trial! The conditions are no weapons or armor, strictly empty-handed combat. If Paladin Danse manages to remove our elder from the circle, the Brotherhood has agreed to release the former Knight Vega into Minutemen custody. If our elder removes the paladin from the circle, Paladin Danse has agreed to allow the elder to pass swift judgement upon him."

  "Say it how he said it, Proctor!" Danse barked, his deep voice carrying well. "He plans to kill me if he wins, don't shy away from it!" He heard Vega swear before the crowd of knights, aspirants and squires around him voiced their mixture of dismay and apprehension. "Elder Maxson has deemed me a threat to the Brotherhood and has forced my hand. So now we engage in a combat trial as it is written in the Litany."

  "Trying to turn my troops against me, abomination?" Maxson huffed as he discarded his heavy battle coat and began rolling up his sleeves. "I can't say I'm surprised, but I am disappointed. I had hoped you would meet your end with some shred of dignity."

  Danse shrugged, Backhand's lucky bandanna brushing his chin when he raised his head. "You haven't won yet, Maxson." He reminded the younger man with a sad smile.

  Arthur lunged at him suddenly, dust flying with the speed of his approach. Danse barely managed to sidestep, latching on to Arthur's wrist and shoulder. The paladin used the other man's momentum against him, redirecting him around his body and kicking his legs out from beneath him.

  "Are we beginning now, Arthur?" He asked sharply, that tactical portion of his brain considering the merits of stomping down on Maxson's groin with all his might.

  But no, no, he couldn't--Maxson was the elder -

  Arthur flailed on the ground, his face red with fury as he clawed at Danse's hands on him. The paladin released him and stepped back, not overly eager to stay within striking distance of the formidable elder. Unfortunately, Maxson didn't leave him much of a choice in the matter. The younger man darted forward again, too low for Danse to redirect him. The paladin took the brunt of Arthur's shoulder to his midsection, gasping out a pained breath even as he tried to brace his footing. 

  Arthur's shoulder drove deeper into his stomach and the younger man grappled Danse's legs, heaving him backwards off the ground . Danse frantically grabbed at Maxson's back before the younger man pinned him bodily, the two of them hitting the gravel with a bone-jarring impact. 

  Danse still hadn't been able to catch his breath and he barely got his arms up in time as Arthur cocked back for his first punch.

  Maxson tended to machine-gun when it came to his blows, pummeling his target to a pulp within the first flurry. Danse had watched him fight enough to know that this was possibly the worst position for him to be in. Here, Maxson could just rain attacks down onto him until his damn arms broke, beat him into submission without even having to get him outside the boundaries. "You will die. In the dirt . Like the dog you are!" Maxson screamed as he struck Danse. 

  He's the elder. He's the elder. But...

  Danse gritted his teeth. No . If Maxson was doing to kill him, he was going to work for it. Danse wouldn't hand him his fragile existence on a silver platter. Not anymore. Never again . Every assault, every misguided order, every time his admiration or willingness to help had been taken advantage of…

  Danse sucked in a breath and shoved Maxson in the chest with all his might, knocking the other man off of him. " Fuck you Arthur! " He spat, suddenly red-hot angry . He got to his feet and loomed over the elder of the Brotherhood, smoldering with rage.

  Maxson seemed confused, like he couldn't believe Danse was actually fighting back . He scrambled back to an upright position, the two of them circling each other much more warily now. 

  "You should have just laid down and died like a good soldier!" Maxson taunted, feinting a few jabs on the left before he swung in from the right. His fist caught Danse in the jaw, snapping the older man's head to the side as he continued, "should have just let me break you, Danse!"

  Danse, reeling from the hit, staggered back a step and dropped to one knee. No, get up . Don't let him do this to you . He forced himself back up, glancing the next punishing blow off his shoulder and then landing a check of his own that sent Maxson sprawling on his back. 

  "Get up, Arthur!" Danse shouted, his fists clenched. " Get the fuck up and fight me! "

  So fast Danse almost missed it, Arthur whipped his combat knife out of his boot sheath and rushed him with it, holding the blade low in an effort to conceal the weapon.

  The blade that killed the deathclaw . 

  The point barely grazed Danse's arm as he flinched back, razor-sharp steel easily parting the flannel and skin beneath it. 

  He was in trouble now. Maxson unarmed was bad enough, but Maxson using a weapon he was intimately familiar with absolutely spelled certain death for Danse. Never mind that they had agreed on no weapons. Danse doubted anyone was exactly refereeing a Litany trial. As long as they stayed within the circle, he was under the impression that he was on his own.

  Arthur slashed wildly at him, no longer bothering for subtlety as he openly attacked Danse with the knife. Maxson had this hideous, leering smirk on his face the whole time; he was playing with his food. 

  Danse felt like an idiot for even thinking that he had a chance at winning when Maxson buried the blade in his shoulder.

  But what else could he do? Die in the dirt , like Arthur had screamed at him?

  " You're a cheating sunuvabitch, Arthur! " Vega's voice rang out loud and clear like the crack of a whip. Danse saw her out of the corner of his eye, the woman struggling vainly against the armored vambrace that encircled her waist. " Coward! " She yelled indignantly.

  Danse smiled thinly through the pain, gripping Maxson's wrist on the knife with enough force to make Arthur grunt. His free hand clamped down on the crook of Maxson's elbow, keeping the younger man locked in that position. Maxson headbutted him to try and make some space and Danse slammed their heads together harder, baring his teeth and snarling in Arthur's face. 

  Between the two of them, Arthur would always be smarter and quicker than Danse. 

  But Danse was stronger . Danse thrived in the trenches and on the front lines. Maxson may have called him a dog as an insult, yet there was truth in his words. Danse was a bulldog , boots on the ground, chewing for the jugular until the day he died. This wasn't his first time fighting for his life against insurmountable odds and he was finally refusing to roll over for Arthur.

  Something flashed in Maxson's eyes for a split-second and Danse latched onto it. "You're afraid of me, aren't you Maxson?" He panted, maintaining his death grip as Arthur began to struggle to free himself. "Of what I could do to your leadership, your elder status-"

  " Shut the fuck up!" Maxson seethed, the palm of his free hand crashing into Danse's throat. The paladin stumbled back and dropped to the ground, his lungs screaming for air as the blade tore loose. Maxson, instead of just finishing him off, began to pontificate, watching Danse writhe and hack for air in the dirt. "You know Danse, I saw what you had with Cutler and I envied it. I searched for years , trying to find something like it. I failed, naturally. So the only solution was to get Cutler out of the picture. But you were stubborn . You longed for a dead man, entirely ignoring the needs of your leader!" Maxson hissed, grinding the heel of his boot against the wound on Danse's shoulder. "And if I couldn't have you wholly, I would break you."

  Danse knew on a technical level that the wound should hurt. His face automatically winced. But all he could focus on was Arthur's words, his confession . The heel of the elder's boot, already sticky with blood, crushed down on the side of Danse's head next. 

  "Why so quiet now, Danse? Do I behave like a man who fears you, freak? " Maxson mocked him, delivering one last kick before backing away.

  Danse laid there in the gravel, bruised, bleeding; dazed not just by pain but by the knowledge that Maxson had sent Cutler away on purpose. Maxson had sent Cutler to his death. Sent Brandis to his death. Sent Danse to his death.

  " Well , synth? For being so confident, you are remarkably silent!" Arthur needled. "Where's all that righteous wrath you threatened me with? I wanted a fight! "

  Danse noticed dimly that the crowd was entirely still around them. It was eerie, like everyone else had vanished and it was just he and Arthur.

  Danse raised his left arm, the whole limb shaking violently, and he curled his fingers to flip Maxson off.

  The crowd's judgemental silence dissolved into laughter and rowdy shouts, both for and against the paladin. He vaguely picked up Vega yelling, " Attaboy! "

  Arthur sputtered with fury. He leaped at Danse, no doubt enraged enough to slit his throat. All Danse could think to do was hike his knees up, planting them firmly in Maxson's pelvis and then catapulting the smaller man up and over his body. Maxson landed several feet away on his back, giving a pained grunt as the wind was knocked out of him by the impact. 

  The knife clattered and skidded through the dirt and gravel, out of reach for the moment. Danse floundered to roll over, trying to keep the distance between himself and Arthur while the dust settled. When it did, though, he realized something. 

  Arthur's entire body was outside the circle. 

  Danse blinked, eyes wide as he realized that not only did that mean he had won, that meant Arthur had lost. In front of everyone .

  " Freak! " Maxson shrieked, staggering back to his feet and pointing an accusatory finger at the wounded paladin. "At least Cutler had the good sense to get himself killed , unlike you and fucking Brandis! " The elder screamed, blood and saliva flying from his mouth. "You two are like goddamn radroaches! "

  "Elder Maxson?" Rhys . He sounded so hesitant, so unlike himself. "Sir, did you...did you send our squad out here purposely? "

  "It is not your place to question me, Knight! And don't act like Danse didn't tell you as much, I'm certain he wasted no time vilifying me upon your arrival to the Commonwealth!" Maxson spat ruthlessly. "Traitorous liar! "

  "I'm afraid the paladin may have been too preoccupied with keeping his squadron alive to convey any personal irritation regarding you , sir." Haylen said dryly. "Perhaps you can fill us in on what we might have missed?"

  Maxson, instead of answering, threw himself back at Danse. 

  …

  Danse hit the ground with Maxson on top of him and Backhand screamed something abusive that was extremely unflattering to the elder's lineage.

  Arthur grabbed Danse by the collar of his worn shirt and slammed the back of his head against the ground, the elder appearing to snap as he howled with rage and punched Danse again and again and again -

  Vega's fists clenched in her binds and she struggled futilely against the knight holding her, willing Danse to fight back, to do something , don't die on me!

  Suddenly a huge gauntlet was seizing Maxson by the seat of his pants, tossing the young man off to the side. 

  "That is enough ." Brandis, Brandis , how had he even gotten there?! Backhand had last seen him in the bowels of the Prydwen as she was being led out from the cell! The elderly paladin stood tall over the two bedraggled men in the dirt, cracking his knuckles in his gauntlets. "What is the meaning of this, Maxson?" He asked furiously, tone sharp through the speakers of his helmet. "You would disgrace trial by combat in such a manner? How dare you! You bring shame upon the Litany!"

  "Stay out of my way, you meddling old fool!" Maxson ordered, getting shakily to his feet.

  "Or what, you'll beat me to a pulp as well?" Brandis retorted. "You've turned against your troops, Arthur, the men and women you swore to lead with integrity. You've freely admitted to sending soldiers to their deaths because it suited you , not the needs of the Brotherhood. You've brought nothing but disgrace to our chapter, Arthur! Look around you! " Brandis exclaimed, gesturing at the crowd. "You're a tyrant , Maxson! Not one amongst the ranks would stand up to you, not one would shake you back to reality, and those that tried are now lying in the damn dirt ."

  "Be quiet! "

  "You cannot silence me, Maxson." The old paladin said calmly. "You've tried and failed before."

  "What would you have me do, Brandis? He's a synth ." 

  "Perhaps." Brandis allowed. "But all I see is a man who obeyed your stipulations and threw you out of your circle, Maxson. According to our tenets and the Litany, his requests must be met. Release Vega to his custody."

  Maxson snarled futilely. "You will regret crossing me, Brandis!" He warned. "Stand down now! "

  "I have no squadron left for you to kill, Elder ." The older paladin scoffed a little. "What will you hold over my head? Retirement?" He tipped his helmet towards the knight who had Vega. "I said, release her ."

  The knight who had been holding Backhand let her go with a mumbled apology, and without any hesitation she took off at a dead run for Danse. Her whole body ached from the heavy-handed treatment Maxson had inflicted on her, but in the light of getting Danse back it was an easy burden to bear.

  She tumbled to her knees, her hands still bound in front of her as she called his name. He groaned in reply, grimacing when she touched his arm. "Danse, holy shit ." Backhand breathed. 

  The paladin exhaled a broken laugh, barely opening his eyes. "Did I win?" He asked blearily. "Everything is spinning."

  Backhand couldn't help the sob that escaped her as Danse pawed blindly at her bound hands, the young woman opening her mouth to say something. 

  There was a commotion behind her, Brandis shouting " no Maxson! " and then a gunshot. Backhand froze as a plume of dirt kicked up bare inches from Danse's head, the paladin jerking away from the impact. 

  She pitched herself forward, bridging Danse's form with her own by propping her weight up on her elbows. "Don't move, Danse." She whispered, "I've got you, okay? If he wants to shoot you he's gonna' have to get through me ."

  "Don't try to--Vega, I order you to get out of the way! How dare you defy me!" Maxson struggled against Brandis' attempts to take the service pistol from him, waving the gun wildly in the air. " Traitors! Let the synth meet its fate!"

  "Vega, you need to... Elizabeth , he'll shoot you, please -" Danse begged, weakly shoving at her side. "The Brotherhood needs-"

  " Fuck the Brotherhood, Danse!" Backhand yelled at him. "If this is how they treat you , someone who's spent his entire career fighting for their cause, then I don't want shit to do with them!"

  The report of the service pistol cut through the air once more, and Backhand's body collapsed on top of Danse.

Part Sixteen

[tempestaurora]

Hi I just need to share this idea before I fall asleep: AU where Beck targeted Harley instead because Tony left Harley EDITH instead of Peter

read on ao3

They showed up in the hand of a suited man who looked uncomfortably hot in the Tennessee sun. E.D.I.T.H., the card in the glasses case read, Even In Death I’m The Hero – T.S.

Harley had been to his funeral the month before, had stood outside the lake house with a collection of plain-clothed superheroes. He’d recognised some, but not all. Captain America, Falcon, Hawkeye, Bruce Banner. They were all red-eyed and sombre, donned in black suits and congregating in small groups after the ceremony. Harley had come alone, without his mother or sister, and had spoken to barely anyone, bar Colonel Rhodes who recognised him, Pepper and Morgan, who’d invited him, and the kid called Peter Parker, who looked about his age - though, post-snap, it was hard to tell anymore.

He hadn’t touched the glasses for two days before finally working up the nerve to try them on, then he’d played with them in complete awe for three days before finally putting them away again. He’d read the texts of strangers on the street, peered inside the Mustang’s engine and dissected every part, stared at the maths problems on his homework sheet and watched the numbers float off the page and solve themselves. It was a lot of power, Harley figured. Too much for a kid in fuck-all nowhere Rose Hill.

He made a small hole in the floorboards of the garage, and hid the glasses away.

He’d vanished in the snap, like half the universe, but his sister and mother had lived on for five years, continued to grow and change. He’d been in his senior year when he’d died, and now his sister was too. They shared the same classes, and though she’d desperately tried to get into science and engineering; to make use of the tools in the garage that Tony had provided Harley with, she just wasn’t interested, and leant heavily towards history, with dreams of archaeology and excavation.

They looked like twins now, and started to tell people that they were.

His little sister was five years younger than him, but they were both eighteen now anyway.

In all, despite having E.D.I.T.H. under the floorboards of the half-gutted garage (the equipment inside was both too sentimental to sell, and too expensive not to), nothing much changed with Harley as the world tried to right itself after the second snap. Time continued on, the world slowly rebuilt itself and struggled to house all the new homeless folk, and superheroes re-emerged from the cracks, fighting the everyday bank robbers and crazy scientists, rather than colonising aliens.

Harley and Ariel graduated side by side, her name read out first, then his, and they wore matching robes and smiled matching smiles for their mother’s photos. They packed up their things and both headed for New York, both of them studying at Columbia, and both of them scoring rooms in the same dorm. On the day they left; Harley’s Mustang idling out front with his sister’s music blaring from the stereo, Harley wandered around the garage, decked out by a dead man, and pulled back the floorboard. E.D.I.T.H. still sat there in the case, just as it had when Harley had first received it a year before, and he removed it, replaced the floorboard, and started the long drive north.

His classes were the good kind of difficult, and he threw himself into electrical and mechanical engineering, scoring high grades and making new friends. Parties were a rare thing in Rose Hill, as everyone lived so far apart and kids his age were rare, so now he and Ariel had new experiences to make; dorm parties and frat houses, night clubs and bars. Despite the new laws about post-snap identification, his I.D. from before still worked in some places; technically twenty-three rather than the lived eighteen.

“We’re twins,” he and Ariel would say to whoever asked; the two Keeners living on the same floor and going to the same parties. They shared a lot of friends, though drew themselves to different areas; Harley falling easily into the D&D Society, and Ariel finding herself in three separate book clubs.

“Family has become more important than ever,” the post-snap counsellor would say in their mandatory session in their first semester. Every student had to meet with them, only a year since the world came back, but Harley and Ariel attended theirs together, more joined at the hip than they had ever been when they were five years apart in age.

They went home for Christmas and returned in January, starting classes anew. It was then that Harley met his new teacher, Quentin Beck, an M.I.T. graduate who’d once been a successful head developer in R&D at Stark Industries. Harley took every reference to Tony like a stab in the side; Tony’s face was everywhere, painted in every mural. All his classmates were obsessed with the arc reactor and the Stark tech, they all held Starkphones like once everyone had held Apples. Beck’s entire first class was essentially a spiel about what he learned at S.I., and Harley felt sick by the end of it.

Just as he was rushing out of the class, Quentin – all the tutors insisted being called by their first names – called him back. “I hear you’re the student to look out for,” he said easily, resting against the edge of his desk. “Tell me, where did your interest start?”

Harley had never been asked this question, but he had always thought he’d lie if he were. Instead, facing a man who’d also known and cared about Tony Stark, he said, “I’ve always liked building things, but I don’t think it was until I met Tony Stark myself that I really got invested.”

Quentin raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’ve met Tony Stark?”

“It’s a little hard to believe,” he admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but back in 2013—the Mandarin incident? With the President?—when Tony vanished after his house got bombed, he ended up in my hometown. Broke into my garage to hide out from the snow, and well—I dunno. I got to hang out with him for a few days.”

He thought he’d be scoffed at, honestly – it wasn’t a particularly believable story, though Harley had realised that was the case with a lot of truths – but instead, Quentin smiled, like he’d found someone similar to himself, a friend. They talked for a bit about Tony, and then after the next class, they talked again. They went to Quentin’s office and told stories about working with Tony and their experiences with Iron Man. Harley showed him the photos from when he was fifteen and visiting New York mere weeks before Ultron, when he and Tony worked on the code for his own helper bot and later went to a museum together.

It was—strange, honestly. Having someone to relate to about this stuff. Having someone who cared—about Harley, about Tony, about his legacy. Quentin was the only person who got it. Ariel had never met Tony, had been too young to really remember the events anyway, and Harley hadn’t wanted to bother anyone he’d met at the funeral; their connections to Tony far stronger than his could ever be. He hadn’t known the man like Colonel Rhodes had, like Pepper had – but he still grieved, still mourned, still wanted him back.

Talking to Quentin, then working with him on his project, was a little like that; like finding Tony in the world again.

So, one day, as they worked in the shop he said, “Tony left me a gift actually.”

Quentin paused and leant back on his stool, saying, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. When he died. Some lawyer showed up at my door with it; said he’d left it in his will for me.”

“What was it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Glasses,” Harley replied. “They’re—it’s an A.I., called E.D.I.T.H..” He shrugged. “I don’t know why he left them to me, honestly. He already gave me a whole workshop and a vintage Mustang. And we weren’t—we didn’t talk a whole lot, even before the snap. Couple times a year, I guess. I came up to New York like, twice, and he would email out of the blue to see if I wanted to test the new Starkphone…”

“What does the A.I. do?”

“What doesn’t it do?” Harley sighed. “I’m pretty sure it’s a borderline surveillance state A.I., I mean, if the government had it. It can see everything, I think. In the wrong hands… it could be catastrophic.”

“Are your hands the wrong hands?” Quentin asked.

Harley hesitated. “I hope not. Tony trusted me with it, so he must think… must think they’re right.”

“Well,” Quentin said, “I’d love to see them sometime. They sound incredible.”

That afternoon he returned to his room, where he knelt by the drawer he’d fixed a false bottom into, pulling out the E.D.I.T.H. glasses for the first time since he hid them away in September. He tried them on, and E.D.I.T.H. greeted him in the warm tone, information pouring out before him. He peered around his room slowly, and as the sight caught on his roommate’s laptop, their tablet, E.D.I.T.H. captured the data and sent it scrolling before his eyes.

“E.D.I.T.H.,” Harley said quietly.

“Yes, Harley?”

“Why did Tony leave you to me?”

“Tony Stark left gifts for all loved ones in case of his demise. He did not tell me the significance or reasoning behind his actions.”

Harley sighed and flopped backwards onto his bed. “What did other people get?”

“Virginia “Pepper” Potts and Morgan Stark received the majority of the wealth, assets and properties under the name Anthony Edward Stark. Virginia Potts was also left controlling ownership of Stark Industries. Colonel James Rhodes was bequeathed several vintage cars, a large sum of money, and several sentimental items. Harold Hogan was bequeathed the same. Should I go on?”

“Sure.”

“Mr. Stark left various moneys, cars, sentimental items and properties to individuals he worked with under the Avengers Initiative: Robert “Bruce” Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Steven Rogers, Clinton Barton and Thor Odinson. Other moneys were left to various organisations, foundations and charities supported by Mr Stark. He bequeathed myself and a college fund to you, Harley Keener, and a matching college fund and equipped workshop space in Queens, New York, New York, to Peter Parker. He left—”

“Stop,” Harley said.

Peter Parker had been the other kid at the funeral. The one with the internship with Tony. The one at the front of the dock, who’d cried beside his Aunt, who’d been introduced to Morgan for the first time mere minutes after Harley had.

“E.D.I.T.H.,” Harley said, “do you have the contact information for Peter Parker?”

“Of course, Harley.”

Peter’s phone number, email and address appeared before his eyes. His personal information scrolled beside it; seventeen, in his senior year, Midtown Tech High School. Harley thought about calling him; about saying Hi, we met at the funeral, want to be friends? About the bond he had with Quentin, the only person who understood what Harley was going through, even a little, and how he could have it again, with someone else. Someone who had worked beside Tony and looked up to him, just like Harley.

He was about to ask E.D.I.T.H. to call the number when his phone started ringing.

QUENTIN BECK CALLING his glasses read. He and Quentin had shared numbers because Harley’s college email was glitchy and Quentin had needed a way to contact him about class schedules and extra shop time.

“Hi, Quentin,” Harley said as he picked up.

“Harley! I’m glad I caught you. I was just thinking about those glasses Tony left you…”

It didn’t take much, really, for Quentin to persuade Harley to let him take a look at them. He was a friend, he was trusted – he, too, might be the right hands. Quentin and Harley talked for hours about them, trying them out and asking E.D.I.T.H. about her various functions. Harley had been right about how incredible they were, but he’d also been right about how much power they held for trouble. How far the wrong hands could take them; they were connected to satellites across the globe, had an enabled drone strike, and could send missiles to any given place on the planet. And Tony Stark had made this?

“They’re… truly something,” Quentin had said when the sky grew dark. Ariel was texting about dinner and Harley was packing up to leave. “Don’t… please don’t take this the wrong way, Harley—but do you think they’re too much responsibility for you to have?”

“Quentin, I—”

“I know you’re not a child, I know. You’re eighteen, you’re an adult – but these glasses,” he gestured to them on the table, shaking his head. “You could destroy the world with this, Harley. You could literally take it over. And that’s—that’s terrifying. It’s terrifying that Tony would’ve made something like this in the first place, and frankly, more so that he would leave them to someone else upon his death, rather than destroying them.”

“You think they should be destroyed?”

“I think these are simply another foray into weapon building,” Quentin sighed. “Though rather than selling it to the U.S. military, he’s privatised it and kept it for himself.”

“Then why did he give them to me?” Harley asked, nervous hands picking up the glasses. Quentin was right, of course, they were too much responsibility for him. He’d stuck them under the floorboards where they couldn’t be touched because of it. Left them in the drawer and pretended they didn’t exist. Practically ignored the one thing Tony had left for him.

He bet, bitterly, that Peter Parker wasn’t ignoring the gift Tony had left for him.

“I’m not sure, Harley. And this isn’t something I’m saying about you—rather, about him—but I don’t think it was the right decision.”

Harley swallowed, turning over the glasses in his hands. “You think I should get rid of them entirely?”

Quentin sighed, passing a hand over his forehead. “I’m not sure, Harley. I’m not. Perhaps they’ll save the world someday—but only in the hands of the right person.”

Harley bit hard into the inside of his lower lip. He wasn’t the right person. His hands weren’t the right hands. What had Tony been thinking, leaving a weapon this powerful to him? He was a kid from fuck-all nowhere Rose Hill, not a superhero. He was no Captain America, no Thor, no Iron Man.

“Quentin,” Harley said, his mind made up. “If I gave them to you, would you hide them somewhere?”

“What?”

“Hide them. Like you said, they might save the world someday—but that day’s not today, and they need to be somewhere where they can’t cause trouble until then. And if I’m not the right hands—then I shouldn’t know where they are.”

Quentin took the glasses in careful hands. “Are you sure, Harley?”

He nodded, resolute. “I’m sure.”

Quentin hesitated, turning the glasses over in his hands. “Perhaps you should—you should pass over the control to me, too. They only work for you, and if you don’t know where they are…”

Harley swallowed then shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ll keep the control.”

“But, Harley—”

“No,” he repeated. “Maybe I’m not the right hands, but maybe you’re not either.”

“Harley—”

“If you were, Tony would’ve given them to you in the first place. I just need… I just need them hidden. Until I am the right hands, or until the world needs them. Whichever comes first, I guess.”

On the way home, he called Peter Parker and arranged to get coffee in some Queens café the next weekend. After dinner, he shot off an email to Pepper Potts, too, to see how she was doing and apologise for not reaching out for so long. Her response was prompt, and the weekend after, he was to meet her at her Manhattan apartment for dinner with her and Morgan.

He felt strange, that night, and the nights after it, going to bed without the glasses in the drawer beside his head, but it was for the best, he thought, not knowing where they were.

During class on Friday, Quentin seemed busy, side-tracked, and on Saturday, Harley met Peter, who was happier than the last time he’d seen him, and more than willing to share stories about Tony all afternoon, until it grew dark and the two of them went next door for a bite of pizza.

Classes all the next week were cancelled due to Quentin being sick, and he responded to Harley’s get well soon text positively, saying he was already on the mend. At dinner with Pepper and Morgan, Harley told her about college, about meeting Peter even. He didn’t mention Quentin or the glasses, and neither did she. Instead, they laughed at Morgan’s bad jokes and afterwards played a board game and let her win.

And then Quentin didn’t show for class the week after. Didn’t cancel it either, so Harley and his classmates sat around, confused and waiting, until they got bored and went home. Harley tried Quentin’s number and he didn’t pick up. The next day he did the same and the number was cancelled.

“This number no longer exists,” the voice at the end of the line said, and Harley shuddered to a halt in the middle of the packed corridor. People bumped into him from all sides and he squeezed his way over to the wall, the truth playing in front of his eyes on loud, flashing repeat.

Quentin Beck had hidden E.D.I.T.H. and then vanished. He’d taken E.D.I.T.H. He was in possession of the most powerful and dangerous A.I. since Ultron. And Harley had given it to him.

Harley called Pepper as he from campus, searching for a cab.

“Hi, Harley,” Pepper said, “I’m actually about to head into a meeting, so could I call you back—”

“No!” Harley cried, skidding to a stop on the pavement. “It’s important!”

“Is everything alright?”

“No, everything’s not alright! It’s E.D.I.T.H.!”

“Edith? Who’s Edith?”

“E.D.I.T.H.!” Harley repeated. “The A.I. Tony left me! I was kind of overwhelmed by the responsibility of it, and my teacher Quentin convinced me that I shouldn’t have it at all, so I asked him to put it somewhere until I could use it, and now he’s gone! He’s gone and he’s the only one who knows where E.D.I.T.H. is!”

Harley was panting out on the street, but Pepper’s voice was even, hard, “Harley,” she said, “did you hand over control of E.D.I.T.H. when you gave it to your teacher?”

“No,” Harley said. “I didn’t think I should, so it’s still under my control—”

“Alright. That’s very good of you, Harley. E.D.I.T.H. can only be used by the person who has control. Tony gave that control to you, and so long as you don’t ask E.D.I.T.H. to obey anyone else, control will remain with you. Now, can you tell me the name of your teacher?”

“Quentin. Quentin Beck.”

“Oh, fuck,” Pepper said, eloquently. “Amy, would you mind rescheduling my meetings? Harley, come to the apartment. We’ll call in some help and get this sorted.”

Harley grabbed his sister on the way, relaying the events and watching as she chose between a scoff that he could be so dumb, and a pitying smile. She chose the latter and the two of them climbed in a taxi, taking it to the Upper West Side, where Pepper lived when she was in the city. The elevator opened not on the penthouse floor like last time, though, but on the floor beneath, where Pepper stood by an array of computers and Happy paced around behind her.

On one of the screens was Quentin’s face, though a good few years younger, and a long list of information.

Pepper greeted them and then told them all about Quentin Beck, the man who became his college teacher. He had worked for Stark Industries, that much was true, and he had led the development of what eventually became B.A.R.F., an incredibly complex piece of technology that extracted memories and could replay them in 3D, just like Tony had displayed at M.I.T. in 2016. But Quentin hadn’t designed it for use as a billion dollar therapy tool; he’d seen it as a weapon, as a way to manufacture events, hallucinations. With B.A.R.F., the user could extract memories exactly as they were remembered, or exactly as they decided to remember them. It could be used for interrogation, for criminal cases – or it could be used for exonerations. And in other events, it could just as easily be taken advantage of; a guilty person misremembering a murder; a victim being forced to replay a traumatic memory again and again.

He was infuriated what Tony wanted to do with his technology, and had eventually been fired for it too. He was off the deep end, Pepper said, a little crazed and dangerous. His reference had been anything but glowing, and yet he’d still managed to doctor the facts and land himself a role at Columbia during the five years between snaps. He still managed to end up as Harley’s teacher – though, it seemed, by coincidence. One Quentin took advantage of as soon as he discovered how close Tony and Harley had been, and who owned the large fund that was paying Harley’s tuition.

After Pepper told her story, Harley told his – about how dangerous E.D.I.T.H. truly is, about the responsibility of a world killer that he could wear like a pair of smart glasses. Quentin had been right, as awful as it was; Harley wasn’t ready for them, wasn’t prepared to own something like that, and in the wrong hands…

“Why do you think Tony gave them to you?” Pepper asked softly, hers hands on his arms.

“I don’t know!” Harley complained. “I don’t know why he gave them to me—”

“He gave them to you because you are the right hands,” she said. “Because you are responsible. And yes, they’re a weight to carry, and they can be scary—hell knows I feel that pressure with F.R.I.D.A.Y. standing over me at all times, knowing what she can do if I asked—but he wouldn’t have handed them down to you if he thought you couldn’t handle it. And maybe… maybe you can’t yet. Maybe you do need to grow into them, but E.D.I.T.H. is yours, and will be for as long as you want it.”

“But it can do so many bad things.”

“And it can do so many good ones, too,” she replied. “Tony was a futurist. He saw the way forward and brought it to the present. He could see the value of A.I.; of a being that learned and grew and changed, but wasn’t human. They can do a lot of bad, if you ask it to – and they’re installed with safeguards for that exact reason – but they can do a lot of good. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a personal assistant and security system as much as she can be used as a weapon. She can keep an eye on Morgan, can deploy security measures if someone breaks in, can keep an eye on body temperatures, on health and how hydrated we are. She’s a friend as much as she’s technology. If she sees dips in mood, she can work to relieve it; when Tony was struggling after the first snap, she was also the one that alerted me, so I could help. And maybe—maybe they’re small things, compared with missiles in the sky and drone strikes, but they’re also good things.”

She sighed, smiling. “It’s like being a good person or a bad person, Harley. Just because you think bad thoughts, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. It’s what you do that counts. We all have the potential for chaos, for hurt and harm – we have to choose not to act on it. In the same way, with A.I.s in our hands, we have to continuously choose to use them for good, not evil.”

Harley felt his chest loosen a little, where it had tightened and knotted up. Maybe Pepper was right.

“But E.D.I.T.H. isn’t in my hands,” he said. “I lost her!”

“Anything lost can also be found,” she said easily, turning to the monitors. “I have F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” she said, “and I am using her for good by locating Quentin Beck using New York’s CCTV cameras and S.I.’s advanced facial recognition software—not for sale, distribution or government use,” she added, with a smile. “I could go out there myself, too, but I figured there was someone closer by.” Pepper pressed a button on the dash. “How’s it going Spidey?”

“Hey, Pepper!” a voice responded; the cheery, upbeat tone of Spiderman. “I’m actually just watching him through the window of his buddy’s apartment. They’ve been trying to hack into the glasses since way before I got here and its fun seeing them stressed. They haven’t even noticed I’m here.”

“Spidey,” Pepper sighed, “would you mind getting the glasses back sooner rather than later? And finding out who the buddy is?”

“Oh, KAREN’s already figured that out. Ex-S.I. employee. Guess they all have it out for Mr. Stark, huh?”

The image of a balding man appeared on one screen, clearly taken through the bedroom window. His name popped up next to it, with his details.

“Guess so,” Pepper replied.

It was less than an hour later that Spiderman vaulted through the window of the lab, glasses in hand.

“Oh, pizza?” he said, looking at the boxes Happy had ordered to keep himself busy. “Save any for me?”

Pepper tapped her hand on a closed box. “Pepperoni. Just for you.”

“Oh, you’re the best,” he said, passing Harley on the way to the box and handing back the glasses as he went. “For you,” he added along the way.

Harley eyed the glasses in his hands; they were very Tony, just like the ones he used to wear. He wasn’t ready for them, really. Not yet. But someday, he might be – someday, he might be able to use E.D.I.T.H.’s reach and power for good. Might be able to use her to build good things that help people, to change the world just as Tony had done.

Harley said, “Thanks, Peter,” and grinned as Spiderman, Pepper and Happy froze.

Then Spiderman whined, “How did you know? I didn’t even tell you! I swear, Pepper, I said nothing,” and Harley laughed, waving the glasses around.

“E.D.I.T.H. knows everything,” he said, remembering all the details that appeared when he asked the glasses for Peter’s phone number, “from your class schedule to your secret identity.”

Peter pulled off the mask and Ariel sniggered into her pizza as he did so. He looked so put out. “No telling,” he said, slumping onto a free chair. “I can’t believe everyone I come into contact with figures out my secret identity.”

“It’s probably because you take off the mask every time you want to talk to someone or look dramatically into the middle distance,” Happy replied, with his mouth full.

They all laughed, and Harley grinned, placing the glasses carefully on the table.

Not yet, he thought, but maybe someday.

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 15: Acquaintance

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter fifteen: Acquaintance

Notes: I don’t normally do anything for Valentine’s Day, but I might write something for it this year. IDK since I have no ideas. It’s not my kind of day. But I thought it might be a fun challenge, so here we are. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It was a new kind of challenge for me. More on that later in the endnotes!

-~-

In truth, there had been no specific set of expectations placed upon the situation that they now found themselves in. none of them were entirely sure what they’d expected to find when they exited the house and walked along the path that led through the front lawn to the front gate that inclosed the small front yard, but it sure as hell hadn’t been what they found. In such trying times, that was one thing that was for certain.

Flames rained down from the sky as the intrepid group of devil hunters forged a path forwards up the street, remnants of a distant encounter of some sort that seemed to be a few blocks away. From this distance, all they could see was smoke and charred trees, all they could smell was the distinct sulfurous scent of the underworld; all they could feel was the burning heat that only fire left in its wake. looks of perplexion and mild amusement adorning their faces as they strode forward. Yes, something cataclysmic had certainly occurred during their time inside of Matier’s cozy abode. They hadn’t noticed any of this whatsoever. Whatever this was, it was eventful, and it might be the perfect distraction from the matter at hand.

But what had caused this incredible set of circumstances to occur in the first place? This entire situation was entirely irregular, to say the least. Even from the distance that they currently were from it, they could feel the change in the atmosphere. A great deal of power was being discharged in whatever battle was waging ahead of them, and they couldn’t pinpoint its origin. But perhaps the most incredible thing was that there didn’t seem to be any notable property damage. No, the encounter, whatever it was, seemed to be contained in some way. The entire little village that they found themselves in would have burned down by then if that wasn’t the case.

“So Vergil, you spent, what, literally forever in the underworld, right? You ever seen something like whatever this is?” Nico asked as she attempted to keep pace with the rest of the group. She was out of breath, and running wasn’t something that she did if she could avoid it, especially in a hot, humid climate like the one that they were in. That being said, she didn’t want to miss a second of the action if she could help it.

The devil slayer in blue glanced over at her, more or less neutral to the inquiry. Yes, he had indeed spent “literally forever” down there. There was no need to remind him. But he could only assume that the young woman had meant her comment in a non-malicious way. She had no reason to pick a fight with someone who could easily end her life. Perhaps it was just her misguided way of breaking the ice.

“Now that you mention it… no, I don’t believe that I have.” The reality of that realization suddenly dawned on Vergil as they forged a path forward. The Darkslayer drew his weapon and readied himself for a fight, unwilling to simply walk into what could possibly be a trap. Nico wouldn’t willingly walk them into one, but the situation could still be beyond her scope of expertise. And besides, having Yamato at the ready was probably be the best decision he could make when going up against an unfamiliar and more than likely deadly force. He wasn’t going to make it too easy on his opponent.

Dante shrugged, pulling his blade from his back in preparation for the battle that they were probably walking into. “Beats me! I’ve never seen anything quite like this, either. It’s kinda familiar, but not really, and I still can’t place what could be causing it.”

Much to their surprise, Nico snickered slightly at the statement. “Oh, believe me, your gonna see what’s causing. That’s why I came and got ya in the first place! I needed ya to see this for yourself. It’s pretty wild!”

“So am I the only one who wasn’t to know why the sky is on fire? Because I feel like that might be pretty important.” Nero said as he readied Blue Rose. It was the bare minimum of presumptive action that he could take against a possible sneak attack, and the last thing he wanted to do was get torn in half by some random demon. Not only would it be a lame way to die, but it would also keep him from finding out what the hell was going on.

“Yes, your quite right, Nero. The sky isn’t normally on fire. A rather astute observation, if I do say so myself. And it certainly doesn’t help me breathe any easier.” A familiar voice said as they passed him from behind, leaving nothing more than a blur or dark energy as they passed. Nero gave V an unamused look as he hovered past him, the shorter-haired man clearly not pleased that he had to run while V could simply float along the ground effortlessly. That wasn’t to say that he blamed him, though. If he has such an ability, Nero was certain that he too would abuse it in every possible way. Riding Punchline was by far one of the highlights of his day whenever he was afforded the opportunity.

As the group neared the trees, they caught sight of something that waylaid them slightly. Standing just to the side of their destination was a familiar face that Dante was positive that he hadn’t seen in far too long. A small dagger flew past Dante’s head and into the tree behind him as stepped forward, catching sight of the group of demons that had gathered around in a hopeless attempt at actually standing much of a chance against their opponent. But that wouldn’t do them any good. While she might not be quite as powerful as he was, Lucia was far from a pushover, and a few worthless Puia, Demonochorus, and Msira didn’t stand a chance against her. As if to prove his point, she threw a volley of blades at the last remaining wave of them, knocking them dead to the floor as she withdrew her curved blades from the remains of a Savage Golem that had made the fatal mistake of thinking it could take her on in close quarters combat.

Vergil raised an eyebrow as she approached them, noting the finer points of what little of her fighting style he’d be able to see. While he himself used smaller blades as a primary element of his fighting style, actually throwing them was another matter entirely. It took great skill to be able to hit your target so consistently, and to do so with such speed? She was rather impressive, wasn’t she? He wondered for a moment what he had expected her to do when he’d finally met her, but it seemed that whatever expectations he’d previously possessed had been subverted, even if he didn’t really know what those expectations were. It wasn’t every day that something like that happened.

The instant that the demon was dead and she had holstered her twin blades, Lucia jogged over to them, using her left hand to toss her long red braid over her shoulder as she came to a stop in front of Dante. Despite the fact that she’d just finished a battle, a pleasant, if not shy smile spread across her face. “Dante… Matier told me you’d come back around. What are you…”

She trailed off for a second as she caught sight of the rest of the group, noticing for the first time how many new people she’d never seen before were there, especially the ones with white hair. Her eyes drifted over to Vergil as he approached, V and Nero coming from behind their father and around to meet her. Was this the guardian that Dante had told them so much about? If so, they were somewhat surprised. For whatever reason, both Nero and V had collectively figured that she was an older woman like Matier. She didn’t’ seem significantly older than they were. Probably around Lady and Trish’s age, possibly even slightly younger. It was hard to say by just looking at her. What they could say, however, was that so far, she seemed far too nice to be one of Dante’s friends. After all, she hadn’t shot or stabbed him yet. What a welcome change of pace!

After a moment of staring in quiet confusion at Vergil, Lucia turned back towards Dante. She looked at the devil hunter in red for a second, her brow furrowing slightly as though she didn’t understand something. She tilted her head to one side, clearly considering something. A moment later she looked at Vergil again, this time stepping back to get a better look at both of them. And just like that, something clicked. 

“Oh… I see. That makes sense. Very interesting.” She turned her gaze towards Dante, folding her arms and she glared at him playfully. If she’s been closer, she might have even nudged him, but that was a longshot. “Why didn’t you tell me you were identical twins, Dante?! That’s incredible! You told me about your brother but…”

Lucia slowly stopped talking as she noticed that Vergil was folding his arms and turning to give his twin a dirty look, the younger of the two giving her a look as if to plead with her to stop talking. While the lovely redhead wasn’t privy to what was going on, she was smart enough to be able to tell that it was probably a complicated matter between her longtime friend and his twin brother, and that she didn’t want to get involved. If the tension alone was anything to go by, it might not end very well for her. Best to revisit that topic later when it was just her and Dante and the two of them were not in the same location. After all, she’d heard from down the grapevine that they didn’t always get along.

V peered around his father’s back, wrangling Shadow as he ended his use of the demonic feline. She was an invaluable asset, especially in regards to travel, but there was no reason to use her when they were standing still. Best to let her rest just in case things took a turn. Though going off of his experience with the young woman that they had just ran into, he couldn’t imagine that it would. From what he could tell, she seemed kind.

“Sorry about that. It’s not my business, is it? Forgive me.” Lucia blushed slightly, clearly embarrassed. She’d only been talking to him for a minute or two, and she’d already managed to find a way to get herself tongue-tied and into a situation that she didn’t particularly wish to be in. How did this always happen? “My name is Lucia. I’m one of the guardians of Vei Du Marlin. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay so far. Sorry for the wait.”

As if to protest against her polite statement, another loud explosion ricochet across the space behind them, this time the vibration it caused was enough to stagger them, nearly causing V to stumble and fall over due to the sheer force of it. Nero reached for his brother in an attempt to steady him, but the older of the two politely waved him off. There was no need. Thankfully he hadn’t actually fallen down. The problem was that V’s center of balance left much to be desired. Lucia noticed his unsteady state and gave him a concerned look, drawing attention from the rest of the group as she did so. V sighed quietly under his breath, cursing his entire equilibrium for being so easily swayed.

“I’m fine. Truly. It’s just that whatever that was threw me off.” V glanced back towards the source of the explosion before turning back to her, intreuged.” Normally I tend to notice strange things such as that a moment or so before they occur because I do have eyes and I can see them, but we have no visibility from where we currently are. As such, I can’t really brace myself for impact. And whatever small amount of foresight I tend to possess has seemingly abandoned me. It’s unfortunate, but I’ll manage.”

Lucia nodded, seeming to understand his plight. “Oh, I understand. That makes sense. My mother needs assistance when she walks these days as well. She’s elderly, you see. Your balance being a little off is absolutely understandable if you walk with a cane.”

V considered elaborating for a moment, but he couldn’t will himself to do so. For whatever reason, he found himself tongue-tied in a manner that was unfamiliar to him. It was rare that he couldn’t think of a single thing to say, yet here he was, at a total loss for words. He wanted to say that it was simply because of the fact that he didn’t know what to say to such a polite, understanding, and accommodating response, but there was a part of him that subconsciously registered that there was more to it than that. He just didn’t know how to put it into words. And that was exceedingly strange to him. Maybe he was just worn out from his long conversation with Nero, Dante, and Vergil?

“Nice meeting you, Lucia. I’m Nero. Dante’s nephew. The frigid jerk in the blue coat is my dad, Vergil. He’s not so bad once you get used to him.” Nero said politely, trying his best to break the strange tension that had formed between V and the young guardian. He’d never seen V look so dumbfounded and lost before in his life, and it was as amusing as it was deeply confusing and strange. But regardless, they needed to figure out what was going on here. “This one’s my brother. I swear, he normally talks more. Not a lot more, but still. It’s something.”

V seemed to catch onto the fact that he was, in fact, acting deeply strange. He cleared his throat, looking down at the ground for a moment as if doing so would clear his head somehow. Suddenly he felt incredibly embarrassed, and he couldn’t even find a place to start as to why. What the hell was wrong with him? “You can call me V. it’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucia. What seems to be the trouble?”

She smiled slightly, a pleasant look that was reflected in her eyes in a way that told him it was genuine and not artificial friendliness to help break the ice between them. She pointed towards the woods, shrugging slightly as an exasperated look crossed her face. Despite the fact that she’d seen what had happened, that didn’t mean that it made any more sense to her than it did to anyone else. “Your companion came to assist me. A strange, large demon attacked while I was dispatching the lesser ones, and he lured it over there. I’ve been too busy dealing with these ones to go and see what became of him, but the fire doesn’t seem good, does it?”

Nero glanced over in the direction of the woods. He had to agree with her. “No, it doesn’t seem very good, does it? We should probably go and check it out. Ya know, see if he need any help. How big was this demon?”

The red-haired guardian gestured with both of her hands before withdrawing her blades, something catching her eye behind them. She took a defensive stance, motioning with her head towards the woods on the other side of the street. “Massive. But I think we might have company on the way. It seems that all this commotion had attracted unwanted attention.” 

She gestured in the direction of the large precession of demons that were now charging them, their heads lowered and their horns positioned to strike. It was a group that consisted of several varieties of goat and Finis demons and, from what he could tell, there were about two dozen of them. Each variety was present and accounted for, and they seemed eager and willing to attack. That didn’t surprise the devil hunter in red in the slightest. They always had been in his experience, especially the damn goat demons. But that didn’t change anything. He’d faced them before, and he would face them again.

Dante chuckled slightly, remembering the first time that he’d faced a member of the goat clan. They were always a fun time, but he didn’t really have the opportunity at the moment to give them the time that he would have liked to. Right now wasn’t the best time to pick a fight with a giant overgrown flaming goat, but they were going to have to take them down nonetheless. And then they needed to figure out where Sirrus was and fast before things got out of hand. If nothing else, flaming debris falling from the sky might catch something on fire. And the last thing they needed was to be even partially responsible for yet another destroyed town. Enough was enough for one lifetime. Or at least one year… 

“Alright then, let’s take care of these posers and go see what’s got the big guy so riled up. Think we can do that before the entire neighborhood burns down?” Dante said playfully as they readied themselves to meet their opponents head-on. Each of his companions gave him an affirming nod, even Nico who had no intention of getting into this fight. She didn’t even have a weapon, but she was going to hang back and see what she could do to help. Maybe going to check on what was going on in the woods was a good idea? Regardless, they were ready to meet their opponents head-on, and as the foolish creatures charged them head-on, they decided to meet them in the middle.

The entire company of devil hunters surged forward, ready to take down these pathetic excuses for demons and get to the real challenge. The poor creatures wouldn’t live to regret the day that they stumbled across the entirety of their family. After all, descendants of Sparda didn’t suffer demons to live, and there were a lot of demons here asking for a good murdering. Not a single one was going to make it out of here alive if any of them had anything to say about it. Especially with the mood that Vergil was in today. That had been their first and last mistake.

-~-

Wow. I did all of this week’s writing in one night. What the hell is wrong with me? Anyway, Lucia is hard for me to write, so I hope I did okay! I’ve never written anything with her in it before, despite how much I love her! Head to the comments and recommend me some fics with her in it to read! I need to learn her mannerisms, although I think I might have gotten a few of them at least half right. Thanks for all the support, and I’ll see you all next week. Well, except for the little valentines day short that I might write for Saudade sometime soon, but you know what I mean XD

See you in the comments!

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #2

This is also a piece of the multichapter fic in which Ziva returns to DC a few weeks after ppf. Here’s just a peek into an age old Tiva trope.

He had been expecting an apron, but instead she was wearing one of his old OSU t-shirts that fell mercilessly to her upper thigh. She was standing in front of the stove, a clunky book in her hands as she squinted at the pages, concentration drawing her features down. There were two big pots on the burners, and she seemed to be consulting the book for what to do with them next. 

She hadn’t heard him come in, at least she hadn’t led on that she did, and he just couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her. Something on the page seemed to confuse her, and he watched as she captured her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed at it. She turned her head toward the ovens, as if debating whether she should tend to the dish in there before continuing on with the contents of the pans, and then turned back his direction. She jumped the slightest bit when she saw him standing there, and he found it oddly satisfying to have snuck up on a notorious ninja. 

She continued on as if he hadn’t scared her, “You are home…” she turned back toward the ovens for a second to check the time, “... at a perfectly reasonable time. I did not expect you for at least another hour.” 

He bit back a smile and moved to take a seat on one of the bar stools, “It was a slow day. I blew through my case files. Boss couldn’t think up an excuse to keep me.” 

She set down the book, which he could now see was an old Julia Child cookbook he kept on a shelf for posterity. She glanced between the two pots for a fleeting second before deciding that they could both use a good stir, “You blew through desk work? You? Tony, I once watched you balance a pencil on your nose for 2 hours rather than fill out a report.” 

He laughed as she moved on from the pots and made her way to the oven, opening the door and giving Tony a good look at the two large steaks she was nursing.

“Let’s just say that today I was a highly motivated man,” his eyes trailed down her back and over her bare legs as she rolled up onto her toes to get a better view at the cooking meat. His tone must have alerted her to his alternative meaning, as she quickly closed the oven door and turned back his way, letting her hair fall into her face as she leaned against the counter. 

“You have been highly motivated before, I am sure.” 

He shook his head, watching as she slowly drew her hand across her shoulders and neck, sweeping all of her curls to one side, “Never this motivated, no.” 

She considered the statement for a second, then seemed to accept it as she moved back to the pots on the stove. 

Tony looked around the kitchen, “Did you buy food?” 

She shook her head, “You bought food and forgot about it. It was probably months ago. The steaks were in the back of your freezer.” 

He watched her turn off one of the burners and move the pot over to a waiting holder, “It’s probably best that they weren’t found until now. I would never be able to do them justice if I tried to make them.” 

She shrugged, “I also found an old box of macaroni in your cabinet. It’s not much, but I added some vegetables and threw in some spices. It should make for a decent side dish.” 

He gestured to the pot still boiling, “And that one?” 

“Mashed potatoes. Or, it will be, once I actually get around to doing the mashing.” 

He watched her stir the boiling potatoes, gauging how soft they were becoming. A small, intimate smile crept across his lips. 

It was almost a minute before she realized he hadn’t moved and looked up at him. 

Her brows furrowed at his expression, “What is it?” 

He shrugged, “You’re just being so… domestic.” 

“I have cooked for you before.” 

“Yeah, at your place. With clothes on.” 

She looked down at her attire as if just now remembering how little she was wearing, “My clothes are still in the dryer. I did not want to wear the same thing tomorrow without washing them. Plus, I smelled like airplane… and sweat,” she scrunched up her nose for emphasis. “I also used your shower, though I have to admit that your hair care products leave something to be desired.” 

He trained his eyes on the still boiling pot, trying not to imagine her standing in his shower… water running down her skin… suds all over her body…

“Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t really expecting company. But maybe we can head to the store tonight? Get some more food… maybe some beer… whatever else you may need…”

If his hinting at a prolonged stay surprised her, she didn’t show it. Instead she glanced back down at the large t-shirt hanging loosely on her frame, “My clothes probably won’t be done for a while, and I don’t think I can reasonably go out in public wearing this.” 

“Trust me, no one will mind,” he let himself run his eyes up and down her body again, studying the way the loose cotton folded and twisted around her hips. 

She laughed quietly, reaching down to turn off the final burner and moving the pot onto a cooler one, “It will be late by the time we are done eating anyway. I can go to the store tomorrow while you are at work.” 

“And clothes?”

She nodded, “I will buy some of those while I am out as well.” 

“Why didn’t you bring any with you?” 

She stopped her assault on the soft potatoes for a second, looking up to meet his eyes with an expression he couldn’t quite identify, “I… um… left in a hurry. I did not take the time to pack anything, really.” 

He reached into his suit pocket and fished out his wallet. He pulled out his Mastercard and held it up for her to take. 

She immediately shook her head and pushed his hand away, “I have my own money, Tony.” 

He held the card out again, “You’re not working right now. It’s not a big deal, consider it a gift.” 

She pushed it back again, “Seriously, I do not need it. I am sure I don’t have to remind you that my father was a very powerful man. He had accumulated a considerable amount of wealth in his life, and being the only living relative... Anyway, most of the money was tied up in various assets-”

“Let me guess: diamonds?” 

She smiled, “There were some diamonds, yes, but mostly it was in real estate. He had houses and land all across Israel, and even some over in Europe. I kept a few that had sentimental value, like the ones we used to visit during the summers, but the rest were of no use to me. So I sold them. That is another thing I have been working on this past month.” 

“You sold everything you didn’t want in a month?” 

“Unfortunately, no. There are still a dozen or so listings that I’m waiting on, but I did some damage. The point is, I have more than enough money to pay for myself.” 

She got back to working on the food, and he put his wallet back in his pocket, making a mental note to slide her a 50 tomorrow, just to help cover groceries.  

He resumed his previous line of questioning, “You were in a hurry? What, was this a last minute trip?”

She nodded a little, “I guess you could say that.” 

“Something important you had to do?” 

She looked up, “I would consider what happened last night to be important, wouldn’t you?” 

“Of course,” he stood a little in order to reach across the kitchen island and tuck some loose strands of hair behind her ear, “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you came back now. When I left you on that tarmac, you were pretty hell bent on giving all of this up - DC, NCIS, the whole bit. What changed?”

She shook her head, “I am still not returning to NCIS. I meant what I said about giving up the badge. I do not want to chase bad guys anymore.” 

“Okay. But what about DC? And the team? Aren’t we going to pull you right back to where you started?” 

She didn’t respond. Instead she finished up her work on the potatoes and moved on to stirring the mac and cheese concoction for a second before a timer went off and she gracefully pivoted to the oven and removed the masterfully prepared steaks. She set them on the counter and admired her handy work. 

Finally, she said, “Dinner is ready. I think we would both benefit from having some food in our stomachs before we dive into THAT conversation.”

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Chapter Eight.

Hellllllooooooooooooo, am here! Sorry this took a while again, another busy week. All the support I’ve been getting is just so nice, I love all you’re comments. Also a HUGE Thank You to @raylan-c​ For the two wonderful Collages that you made (I’ll try incorporate them in here somewhere) and also the HC that you keep coming up with <3

Enjoy! If you want to be tagged just ask <3

warnings: Swearing, mentions of panic attack.

Tags: @i-am-sarah​ , @whothefuckstolemykeds​ , @drowsyrrog​ , @culturefiendtrashqueen​ , @rogue-barnes-16--main-account​ , @alliwantfromyouistomakelovetome​ , @valerie-weasley​ , @sueeatstheworld​ , @bleona2808​ , @pippin248​ , @myfatbottomedgirls​ , @httpfandxms​ , @cooliosmosh​ , @speckles-s​ , @walking-disgrace​ , @itsmeaudrieee​ , @fight-the-freaking-fairies​ , @irrelevant-pumpkin​ , @captain-sparkles-who​ , @podcasts-8-my-heart​ , @foulvintagenature​ 

Gif credit: mrbenhardys

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The elevator dinged signalling that I had reached the apartment. This was probably extremely stupid of me but I wanted to help out, I’d been useless for too long.

The doors opened, I raised my gun so I was armed and ready. Two guards turned at the noise of the ding, before they could even raise their weapons I shot them both in quick succession.

“ZERO GOD DAM IT.” One shouted at me. 

I didn’t listen, I wanted to concentrate on getting to Four and the dictators brother to get them both out safely.  

“We’re stuck on the stairway.” Two informed.

Bullets where ricocheting off every wall, I’d finally located Four but he was across the other side of the stairs. Getting to him would be extremely hard seen as the space between us was an open area. I decided to focus on helping Two and Three who were trying to get up the stairs.

A guard came bounding across the landing, Three totally unaware. I stepped out in front of the guy. Everything felt like it was in slow motion I raised my gun and just as he was about to make contact with me I shot him.

He crashed into me, I felt a sharp pain in my side. As we hit the floor hard he went limp. I groaned at the weight.

“Zero!” Three shouted concerned as he threw the guy off me.

“You okay?” I just nodded my head. “Thank you! I didn’t even see him coming, you probably just saved my life.”

“Yeah well no need to get soppy now, we still have a mission to complete.” I patted his shoulder and went back to my spot against the wall protecting the two that were trying to make a clear path to the zip line.

“Guys, I got a bad idea.” Seven said.

One chimed in sounding nervous. “What do you mean you have a bad idea? You’re only suppose to have good ideas.”

“I have a really, really bad idea.” I rolled my eyes.

“Get on with it Seven, It’s like hell in here.” I said wincing as a guard took a shot at me.

“Am improvising okay, You all might want to grab onto something.” 

I looked up and caught Fours eyes, I just shrugged at him.

Just then we all heard a cracking sound.

“THE POOL!” Two shouted and began to run back down the stairs.

“NO NO BACK BACK.” Three screamed wild eyed. 

Just then Seven took the final shot, the pool burst open. A flood of water came crashing down from the roof. Some how Four had managed to get the asset into a safe place then proceeded to sprint under the stairs just in front of me.

This was going to be a close call, I didn’t have much time. Four reached his hand out and was yelling at me to jump.

Just as the water reached my feet, I sprinted forward and leapt. Luckily he caught me, both crashing to the now wet ground under the stairs. At least we were safe from getting swept away.

The surge of water rushed through room after room taking anything in it’s path that wasn’t tied down. The glass all around us shattered and water went spluttering out.  From the outside the tower probably looked like a giant waterfall.

“You okay?” I didn’t even realise that I was still on the floor beneath Four, He was clucking my waist.

“Yeah am fine, thank you for catching me.” I looked up into his green eyes.

“Any excuse to touch you love.” He smirked, moved his hand from my waist. “Zero, you’re bleeding.” I looked at his hand to see the tiniest spot of blood.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a scratch, I can’t even feel it.” I put on my best smile. 

We both sharply turned our heads to someone grunting, they then let out a little scream.

We scurried forward to the edge of the staircase just in time to see Two get carried away by the water.

“TWO!” I shouted ready to lunge after her, but Four caught my arm just in time.

We both watched in horror as she got dragged further and further away. Closer to the blown out window.

My heart stopped for a moment. “You’ve drown the whole freaking team!” One gritted his teeth.

When the water had all but drained I rushed forward, helping Two up. “Thank god.” I mumbled.

Three was safely securing the asset into the zip line when he decided now would be a good time to take his frustrations with how the mission went on the poor soul.

He started punching him. “Three come on stop.” I said.

Me and Two tried our hardest to get him to calm down but it wasn’t until One came that he eventually stopped.

When the asset, Two and Three were safely flying to the other building I secured myself to the line.

I looked around, noticing that someone was missing. “Where’s Four?” 

“Not my problem, now go.” One said un bothered.

“No am not leaving until he gets here safe!” I started to reach up to undo the harness.

One rushed forward and covered it so I couldn’t unstrap myself.

“One let go, am not leaving him!” I said through gritted teeth.

“You are going to do what I say, the rules are if someone gets left behind we don’t wait.” He was all up in my face and angry now.

“Your rules are fucking stupid.” I spit in his face.

“I don’t care what you think.” suddenly he let go of the top and pushed me off the building.

“NO!” I screamed, the wind battered my face as I flew across the skyline.

Tears had began to fall down my cheeks making them freezing with the wind whipping at them due to the speed I was flying at.

I didn’t wait for anyone when I landed. No one would have noticed anyway as Three had continued his assault.

I ran as fast as I could to the car that Five was waiting at. She was shocked by the state I was in, I told her everything and she was just as concerned.

“Three bullets.” I heard a soft voice come over coms.

“Four we’re moving.” One said.

“Just go, I can’t get across.” He said softly. “They cut the zip line.”

“Four, please.” I sobbed.

“Don’t worry Darling, I’ll be fine.” I could hear the strain in his voice and I knew he was lying.

“Am sorry.” One said, which only angered me more.

“It’s just bad luck.” A ring of shots was heard. I tuned to Five, she just seated me in the car then turned to wait for the others.

When the rest showed up we were off. The further away we got from Four, the more my heart broke.

The tears had stopped now, all that was left was a sizzling anger that was mostly directed at One.

Suddenly something crashed on top of the car, we all insistingly ducked.

“Was that a bad guy?” Three asked.

We came out to an open stretch of road only to be barricaded by a police car.

The sudden stop made us all jolt forward.

Shit.

The tension in the car was high, but that rouse even higher when the asset started to shout at the cops that he’d been kidnapped.

“Am going to kill him.” Three mused.

“Am going to let you.” One sang back.

luckily something else drew the cops attention away and they got back in their car, speeding off.

Three pulled out, following behind them.

Suddenly out of all the commotion going on in the car, a distant explosion could be heard over coms.

I was close to having a panic attack, thinking about all the situations Four could be in right now. We were just running away, leaving one of our family members to suffer by himself. I was enraged.

That’s when I realised something. 

I loved him.

We hadn’t known each other for that long, well we had but not in person. But some how he’d sneaked his way into my heart. No matter how many times he bullied me or we fought. And now I was never going to see him again, I was never going to be able to share my feelings with him.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when giant metal bars literally came raining down on us. Massive explosions erupted behind us, blocking the police cars.

“I made it across.” I sighed in relive, Thank god. “Southwest side.”

“Where are you? NO-” Suddenly Four was cut off.

I sprang forward in my seat, clutching onto the headrest in front of me.

I heard grumbling then a massive thud, and groans of pain.

“Stop the car!” Seven spoke up.

“No!” One said. “ Am not stopping the car. We’re leaving him.”

“We aren’t leaving him, You’re leaving him. You son of a bitch!” I screamed.

“He’s on his own.”

“STOP THE CAR!” Seven shouted.

Seven then pulled his hand gun out, pointing it out of the window right at Three’s head. Ones late reaction was to also pull a gun on Three.

“Don’t you dare stop this car.” One shouted angrily.

The car screeched, violently spinning to turn the way we just came.

“He got there first.” Three said agitated.

“Am not doing this again! am not leaving him behind.” The tension in the car was so thick that a knife wouldn’t cut it.

I just breathed heavy and tried to keep the fresh tears at bay.

I looked at Seven, relief passing over my face as he gave me a little smile. He then got out the car and proceeded  to set up his gun on the edge of it.

I stumbled out, looking up to Four’s location. The guy was beating him good, they were only on a tiny, very unsafe looking ledge.

“Come on Four fight it! we’re coming for you.” I tried to be calm at the sound of painful grunts each time the man landed a blow. “You still need to knock me on my ass remember, you can’t do that if you don’t come down from there.” 

I heard a pained whimper which sounded like he tried to laugh. It broke my heart.

Suddenly the guy pushed him and Four went flying over the edge, I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. Luckily is foot got caught on the orange material. 

I gasped.

“Seven please.” I whimpered.

Chapter Nine

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It: Part Three

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Jensen x Musician!Reader

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part three is from Jensen’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series. 

Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify)

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him. What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)

WC: 3.5K 

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

Jensen was fucking cold.

He didn’t start feeling the chill set into his bones until they made their way back up the beach towards where he left his car. They chatted casually on the walk back, mostly about the festival, and Austin itself, but when they reached her front door he found it hard to say goodbye. Unless he was mistaken, he got the vibe that maybe she didn’t want too, either.

They stood outside her door for another three or four minutes and she finally noticed his body trembling.

“Hey, why don’t you come inside? After all, it is my fault that you’re shivering. I think I have some clothes here that may fit you alright since you’re completely soaked through.”

“It’s fine. I’ll make it back to the hotel alright,” he said through chattering teeth.

“Nonsense, come on. Besides, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next year. Might as well start getting used to you being around all the time.” She winked and unlocked the front door.

Stepping into her bungalow, he felt instantly comfortable in her space. The furniture was older, but it was still in decent shape and very cozy. The couch was draped in oversized fleece blankets with a few plush throw pillows. There were nautical decorations, pictures of fishing boats all over the walls, and even the curtains covering the small kitchen window bore anchors and sailboats. A small hallway divided the room, separating the living room from the eat-in kitchen that led to the bedrooms and single bathroom.

“Cute place,” he said after looking around. “Not exactly what I would have imagined your taste to be.”

She laughed. “Not my taste, at all. This was my dad’s house, long before it was mine. I just never wanted to change it after he passed.”

“Oh,” Jensen replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It was a long time ago, but, thanks…” she trailed off for a moment but came back around. “Let me get you those clothes so do you don’t develop pneumonia on my watch.”

Y/N disappeared down the hallway, and Jensen took the time to really look at the pictures that lined the walls. He saw a small girl, and boy slightly older standing with a man in his forties on the dock. Beside them was a fifty-plus foot fishing boat.

“That’s him,” she said upon her return and pointed to the man in the photo. “That’s my dad, Monty, and that was his boat, Song of the Sea.”

“Cool name. That’s you, then?” he asked, pointing to the girl beside Monty.

“Yep, that’s me, and that’s my brother Dave.”

“Is he a fisherman, too?”

“Nope. He’s a dickhead. I don’t know what he does for a living now. We haven’t talked in years.”

“Oh…”

“Clothes,” she said and handed them out to him. “If you’re hungry I have some leftover pizza in the fridge I can warm up. It’s from Saw Mill.”

“I am down for some pizza,” he smiled, feeling quite content with the direction the evening took, despite his dip in the ocean. “Is there a place I could change?”

“Yeah, down the hall, last door on the left.”

Jensen found the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. The room was blessedly warm, allowing his skin to unfreeze the moment the wet clothes had been removed. He borrowed one of the towels that had been hanging on the back of the door and used it to dry his hair. Once he had on the fresh set of clothes, he paused and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was the first chance he had to be alone with his own thoughts since arriving at the Bamboo, and as his own green eyes stared back he didn’t know where to begin processing it all.

Twenty-four hours ago he was laying in his hotel bed, dreaming about some mystery girl, and now he was standing in her house, about to gnaw on some pizza and discuss how she’s going to be working with him over the course of the next year.

Are you out of your fucking mind? He silently asked his reflection. He decided he must be, but he also decided that he didn’t necessarily care. When he searched his genuine feelings, the ones he kept very close to the vest, he was happy. He felt good about making her the offer and even better that she accepted it. The other ones, the tangled mess of clingy, fawning emotions that bubbled so close to the surface were the ones he didn’t want.

You can get to know her, be her friend, without it turning to sex. Certainly, no feelings. This is work. She’s smart and creative and will be an asset to the team bringing this to life, he said to himself, almost like a mantra.

Then, out loud. “It can’t be anything more… It. can’t. Whatever you think you feel… you don’t. It's just--”

A soft knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to see if you wanted a beer with your pizza. I have water and some apple juice, or--”

“A beer sounds great,” he replied. “Be out in a minute.”

It was quiet again, and he assumed she must have walked away. Remembering their earlier exchange on the word, he didn’t want to take the chance she would hear him. One beer, one slice of pizza, then back to the hotel and tomorrow back to Vancouver. You got this, his inner voice promised himself.

Two beers and two slices later, Jensen was sitting criss-cross applesauce on Y/N’s floor, with her next to him and a photo album depicting her years in drama club productions in front of them.

“Oh, this one,” she started and pulled it from its plastic sleeve pausing to look at it long enough for one of those soft, reflective smiles to touch her lips. “This is from when we did Grease.”

“That’s you there?”

“Yup. I was the understudy for Sandy. The lead they cast was a healthy specimen, so I got to play one of the Pink Ladies instead.”

“I bet you would have made a kick-ass Sandy,” he teased and took a closer look at the picture.

She snatched it from his fingers and returned it to the album. “Nah, I was way too wild to be Sandy. The girl they cast was purity defined. She did a great job. Frenchie, maybe, or Rizzo… I could have pulled off Rizzo.”

“Now we’re talking. Rizzo, she was my favorite. I always had a thing for the bad girls,” he mused with a devilish grin before finishing off his second beer.

“Want another?” Y/N asked and got up from the floor.

Jensen considered it and waved her off. “Nah, I should probably get back to the hotel.”

“Right…” she mumbled and opened the fridge to grab herself another beer. “I mean, it's after two. If you wanna crash in the spare bedroom, it's open.”

“You’d be okay with that?” He watched her reaction closely. Yes, they had grown close in the day they spent together, and he was oddly comfortable with the idea of crashing at her place. But he didn’t want to seem as if he was continually pushing himself on her.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“Not sick of me yet?”

“I was sick of you after you spilled the tea all over the table. But,” she paused to shrug and grab a second beer from the fridge. She handed it to him and continued, “now, I dunno, I’m kinda used to ya.”

“Alright, sleepover it is,” he chuckled and sipped at his beer.

He liked Y/N, a lot. Physical attraction aside, she was someone he enjoyed spending time with. She made things easy; the business talk, the ‘get-to-know-you’ banter, all of it. Y/N made just sitting on her floor looking at old pictures fun, and that wasn’t something he’d had much of in his life, as of late. All the drama, and push ‘n pull with Dee has sucked him dry. Fun and easy going hadn't been on his radar in a damn long time.

Jensen was growing more than a little curious about her. She was a mystifying puzzle that he felt compelled to put together so he could see the whole picture of who she was. Yet, he also knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task. Y/N didn’t strike him as the kind of girl that would give away all her secrets or feelings to just anyone. He was going to have to work on it, but if their day together so far had been an indication of her willingness to one day let him in, he felt pretty confident that they could be really good friends.

“So, I gotta ask…” he started, not exactly hesitant on asking, but on how to ask what he wanted to know. “Earlier, when you dared me to polar plunge… why add the song in?”

“Joy to the World?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N closed the album and drew in a subtle and slow deep breath, drawing her knees up into her chest then taking time to consider how to respond. In the quiet of the room, she found Jensen’s eyes and held on to them. He saw hers growing damp at the corners and watched her ignore the one, lone tear that slid down her cheek.

“When I was a kid, I had a bunch of phobias. Some were normal, some, not so much. It got really bad after a while, and my dad tried everything to help me. One day, we were going to the market, and for some reason I was so, so scared to go in. It was summer vacation, and I was gawky and awkward. A bunch of Bennies were hanging out in front and I was petrified to walk past them,” she saw the confusion on his face and clarified. “Bennies are what locals here call the people that come here for the summer.”

Jensen nodded in understanding and then unknowingly mimicked her position and rested his chin on his knees as he listened on.

“Anyway, he said to me… ‘they aren’t going to say a word. I promise’. I said that I didn’t believe him. Trust was scarce in those days. My mom had just left, and everything was upside down. So I even had trouble trusting my dad, the one person I loved more than anyone in the world. He said, ‘Y/N, I’ll bet you anything they don’t’. We finally came to the arrangement that if I was wrong and he was right, then I had to give him the benefit of the doubt the next time something like this came up.”

“And if you were right?” Jensen asked.

“Well, I then got to embarrass him in public by making him walk around and sing Joy to the World. It was the song he hated the most,” she laughed at some long ago memory that she kept to herself, and lingered in it for a while. “But, I don’t know, it just became our thing… he’d say trust me and when it was super important that I did, he would simply say, ‘I bet you Joy to the World that I’m right’.”

Y/N cleared her throat and tightened the grip she had around her legs. This time when she caught Jensen’s gaze, he noticed the tears had finished falling and that her soft smile was directed at him.

“That’s how I knew I could accept this offer and trust you. You did it without question. The fact that you sang the song and committed like you did… I knew my dad would’ve told me to trust you. He would have bet--”

“The world,” Jensen finished for her.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“So, did he have to sing it that first day?”

Y/N chuckled. “Nope. They didn’t even give me a second glance as we walked by.”

“Did he ever have to sing it?”

She lapsed into her contemplative expression, but only for a moment before bringing up her alluring (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Only once. But that’s a story for another time. I think we should take the opportunity to talk about Austin and when this is all going to happen.”

For another hour Jensen and Y/N talked and planned her move to Austin. Exhaustion was finally setting in and neither of them could keep their eyes open. Y/N showed him to the spare room and turned to walk back up the hallway to her own room. Jensen said goodnight, and before he could turn to go it, he saw her pause at her door and look back at him.

“Jensen... I’m sorry if I was cold to you when we first met. I tend to put up a pretty high wall sometimes. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”

“I didn’t.”

“Ok, good. I’m glad the day went the way it did. You surprised me. Not many people can surprise me. I take back what I said earlier. You’re not a shitty actor,” she said with a playful twitch of a smile. “Night, Hollywood.”

Jensen woke a few hours after going to bed and while he wasn’t exactly rested, the four hours he got was enough to energize him to reach the airport. It was a long flight back to Vancouver after all, plenty of time to sleep then. He didn’t want to miss his last chance to see an East Coast sunrise.

Tiptoeing through the bungalow, so as not to wake Y/N, he quietly opened the front door and stepped out into the autumn air. The day was dawning bright with a cotton candy sunrise over the ocean and barely a cloud in sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he heard Y/N say.

He whipped around and saw her sitting on the small bench to the side of the house. She had a blanket around her shoulder and a steaming cup in her hands.

“Coffee?” she asked, holding it out to him.

“Bless you,” he sighed gratefully and took the cup. To his surprise, he found she took hers just how he liked his.

She moved over on the bench giving him room to sit and watch the sunrise. He closed his eyes and relished in the luscious taste of the coffee as it warmed his throat.

“Thank you,” he said, handing it back.

“Keep it, that was my third cup,” she chuckled, then reached over to the side of the bench and pulled up her guitar resting it on her lap and lightly strumming the strings.

“Won’t the neighbors complain?”

“They would, but there aren’t any. All these places are summer rentals. Closest year-round neighbors are the Sinatra’s down the beach.”

“Seriously? So, it's just you out here almost all year long?”

“Yup.” She nodded and continued to strum the guitar. The melody she was plucking was familiar, and after a few more beats Jensen came to recognize it.

“That song…” he started and then felt his heart start to beat faster as he realized where he remembered it from. “Its… shit!”

“Well, damn, tell me how you really feel,” she snorted, unsure if she should be offended or laugh.

“No! I Didn't mean it like that. I can’t remember the name of it, but it's familiar as hell. Actually heard it in a dream the other night,” he admitted without realizing how close he came to adding ‘a dream about you, in fact’.

“Oh! It's from Grease, You’re the One That I Want, but like, way slower,” she shrugged. “After talking about the play with you last night, it got stuck in my head. I couldn’t sleep, so I made coffee, grabbed the guitar and came outside to wait for sunrise.”

Y/N looked away from the guitar and over to Jensen. She watched him curiously for a moment, still playing, and with each passing note the song became clearer and clearer in his head. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and he wondered if she felt whatever it was that sat between them. In the span of thirty seconds, he had at least a dozen “I wonder” thoughts cross his mind.

...if her heart is pounding, too

...if she dreamed the song, too

...if she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about me like I was thinking about her

“I got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control,” she sang, in a breathy whisper that matched the volume of her guitar. “Cause the power you're supplying….”

Her voice gave him goosebumps across his skin, running from his wrist all the way to his neck.

She trailed off with singing but continued the humming the melody as she plucked the chords and brought her gaze to settle out on the horizon. Jensen wished she had kept singing; he wanted to beg her too, but he was afraid that speaking would break the magic of the moment.

From the other side of the yard, a loud buzzing was coming from Jensen’s car. His brow furrowed trying to recognize what it was, then suddenly jumped up and put the cup down on the bench before jogging through the cold sand to the car. When he came back, his cell was in hand as he was scrolling through messages.

“Completely forgot about this last night,” he mumbled to himself. “Yiiikes.”

“Missed a lot, did ya?” she asked, still strumming.

“Yeah. Looks like there was a change in my flight again. Jared has called at least half a dozen times, and about five texts from work. Good times.”

“Sorry I took you off the grid. Just blame me,” Y/N shrugged.

He watched her for a second and realized how carefree and easy she could be when she was comfortable around someone. There was an aura of calm that surrounded her at times and he wanted to absorb it like a sponge. He felt settled around her, and that was something he could get used too.

“I’m not even a little sorry, though, I guess I should get my ass in gear and get back. But…” he trailed off and went back to his phone, pulling up his calendar, “let’s figure out exactly when I should book your ticket to Austin.”

Y/N stopped strumming and gently rested the guitar on the ground beside the bench. She thought for a minute before replying. “I would need at least two weeks to get my shit together and tie up loose ends. So, let’s say, the 18th?”

“Yeah, that works for me. I may be in Vancouver, but I will make sure everything is all set for you.”

Before Y/N could say anything else, his phone started buzzing again. He answered it and began pacing between the house and the car. To give him some privacy, Y/N grabbed her guitar and went back into the bungalow.

Not five minutes later, Jensen came back inside and began to gather up the rest of his stuff to change, but she waved him off. “You can wear those back. Just junk them when you’re there. They belonged to my brother. Doubt he’ll be here anytime soon.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she snarked, making it clear brother Dave was a sore subject.

“Alright, well, I guess I should head back. I got the 18th in my calendar, and I will call you when I have more details about the flight and apartment. I’m really looking forward to working with you on this.”

“Same here,” she said and boosted herself to sitting on her kitchen counter. “It's gonna be a good time.”

Jensen had hoped she would see him to the door, and maybe even get a chance to touch her in some way; a handshake, maybe a hug, even. But she didn’t budge from the counter and he wasn't going to push her boundaries.

“Thanks for last night, the whole thing was a lot of fun.” Picking up the car keys from the table he moved towards the door, pausing one last time in hopes she’d come to him,

“It was my pleasure. The guys loved having you at the Bamboo. Save travels, ok? I’ll see you in two weeks.”

And just like that, Jensen felt discouraged, like maybe he had imagined their connection this whole time… had he? He tossed the keys up and caught them, and gave her a firm nod.

“Yes, I will. Two weeks. Take care, Y/N. We’ll talk soon.”

When he was sure she wouldn’t budge, he slipped out of the house and exhaled a rush of air from his lips when he reached the car. He got in, started it up and quickly backed down the dirt lane. Pausing before reversing out to the main drag, he threw it into park and rested his head against the headrest.

“You’re a jackass,” he mumbled to himself. “A grade A, idiotic, jackass.”

Hours later, while Jensen was mid-flight, pensive and unsure, obsessively replaying their entire day and night together, his cell phone started to vibrate from way down in his pocket. When he unlocked it and saw the text notification, he smiled.

From Y/N: “Hope you landed safely. Don’t wanna lose the job before it starts. Take care, Hollywood. Can’t wait for the 18th”

And just like that, he was smiling again.

Good new is, you don’t have to wait long for Part Four!! Its already done and ready to post. Will have it up soon :)

Everything Tags: @kazosa  // @sorenmarie87  // @lefthologramdeer  // @his-paradox //  @letsby

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[borderline-off-fangame]

Birb answers random questions you probably thought about asking!

Might as well do this. *shrug emoji* 

Q: When did you start working on Borderline?

A: September 18th, 2015 is when I sort of started working on Borderline? beforehand I actually wrote a fanfic.. it was terrible.. then again, the first few updates even more terrible. It’s been 3 years since I started working on it, and I’ve made quite a lot of progress over the course of a year. 

Q: What do you use to make assets? 

A: Sai to draw, and gimp and paint.net to save them in 8-bit format (if it has textures, use gimp. paint.net just.. fucks it up even if you lower transparency on that bitch). For voices and edits, I use audacity, and my laptop mic to record my voice.. not sure what wolf uses to make their music, you might have to ask them, as for chii, she doesn’t use sai, i know she uses medibang now??? again, ask them!!

Q: What got you to write the story in the first place? 

A: uuuuu.. too much fangames inspired me to make my own thing. It wasn’t as much solid as it was, but the premise was still the same: Max has to deliver food to the Guardians. Of course, I had to make several changes to the story, because the first variation, you already knew what you had to do. In the current version, Max has no idea why Puppeteer is there, and what their intention is, other than to help you with your job. There might be more changes to the story in the future, probably minor changes and shit like that, but the main premise still stays the same!

Q: You accept cameos in your game?

A: YES, ABSOLUTELY, GIVE ME YOUR CHILDREN RIGHT NOW AND I WILL EMBED THEIR CHARACTER FILES INTO MY GAME FOREVER!! ... yes, yes I do actually! From time to time, I do accept cameo appearances in my game, but these cameo appearances don’t like.. uuuh.. how to put this. usually cameo appearances are done where like the character simply exists and doesn’t contribute anything other than just.. existing. In Borderline however, each cameo has it’s own purpose in the game, as I want the cameos to DO SOMETHING other than just stand idly and exist, so of course, each cameo is given a purpose. So when you give me your character, I make sure to do them a lot of justice!

Q: Can we use your assets? 

A: I’d rather you ask first, but chances are that I would say no, and instead would offer to make assets for you. Even with school, I have lots of time on my hands and always need some kind of excuse to get out of my comfort zone and do stuff. I also make free assets from time to time, so you’re allowed to use those as long as you provide credit. In short, if you want some assets, don’t hesitate to ask me to make you some assets. Again, it gives me an excuse to do stuff.

Q: Are you in need of aid or suggestions maybe?

A: ... always! I’m just either too anxious to ask for help, or I’m unsure of how to organize myself and tell people what I am in need.. The most important thing I am ALWAYS in need of are beta-testers, and of course, the more the merrier! Not everyone might point out the same bugs as everyone else when they play my game, and most of the time I beta-test the game.. every. single. time I set up an event to MAKE SURE it works the way I want it!! ...But sometimes I happen to miss a couple.. or maybe a little bit more. (and I burned myself out doing that oops.) But even if you decide to offer your help, I’d be utmost grateful! 

Q: Is your game crossover friendly?

A: The fuck you saying, Borderline is the biggest crossover you’ll ever get to play! ...Yes my game is crossover friendly dun worry! ;w; Not sure why I’d answer that question but if you’re curious, refer to two questions above (the cameo one).

Q: Where do we report bugs?

A: You can use the submit box to report any bugs you find. If possible, provide a screenshot and submit it there. You can also personally IM me if you feel comfortable ;w; Just please.. be specific when you’re reporting a bug. I really can’t fathom at all, as I’m but a slow dunce and might not understand what you’re saying at first... I’msosorry!!!

Q: What program are you using to make the game?

A: Rpgmaker 2003. It’s only 20 bucks both on steam and on the official site (doe I did buy it from the official site cuz steam is hecc.. and my laptop can only handle so much. :’3) 

Q: I am stuck somewhere, and I need help!

A: There is a solution folder which can be found within the game, not only does it contain images, but it also contains videos as well.. Remind me to uh.. fix a couple of dem.. puzzles.. yes.. 

Q: Is it okay to make fanart/ask/rp blogs of your characters? 

A: Why yes, it’s actually okay! I really appreciate the gesture! For art, because the tagging system (on tumblr) can’t get any more wonkier than it is, so if I don’t see something that you drew for me, please don’t feel bad! It’s just tumblr is fucking garbo. :’3333 Instead, you can use the submit box or IM me. If it’s of lewd nature, I ask of you to NOT DRAW THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERS IN LEWD IMAGERY (and I am copying this from the main blog): Basically the protagons of the game (Max is ace who shames people for fun, doesn’t care about sex at all, Sam is a fucking child, Seneca is not even my own character, Puff is also ace and very sex repulsed, and Aleyes is.. he’s not a tentacle monster that’s for sure.), Asriel (He might be his own character, but.. please don’t fuck the goat!! He’s supposed to be innocent!!!!), Baka (not even mine), Pipscrap (not even mine)., Now.. Regarding ask/rp blogs however, I am okay with it, but do consult with me about it (hey, those are my children, I wanna interact with my own children!!) Plus, I can provide you with a bit of an in-depth detail regarding the characters so you know what’s up.. Which brings another question to light.

Q: Can we ship <insert character here> with <insert character here>???

A: I’m a thotticus for shippings, but I’m a huge ass sucker for chemistry(tm) and relationship development between two or more people! I really wanna see what y’all can come up with really so go crazy!! But, keep in mind..

There are... restrictions however.. mostly with Max and Puff who are in a canonical relationship; this should also apply for AU’s as well, please pleaaaaaase don’t ship them with any other characters other than each other! Not only because I can’t see those two being shipped outside their pairing, but also because their relationship is very critical to the lore itself! So.. please be respectful of my decision! ;; There are other restrictions, but I won’t list them here, because we’d be here for an eternity. ;; Just don’t do illegal shit that can get you called out or worse.. please do ask for restrictions.. ;; 

Q: Is it okay to add Easter Eggs/references regarding your game or your characters in our work? 

A: I’d cry? I’d appreciate you ask me about it first so we can consult and shit, but I’d be hella fine with that!!

Q: You inspired me to start my own game!

A: I know it’s not a question, but I can’t just shrug this one off, please excuse me while I go and scream into the void! *sniffs* I am glad that my work actually inspired you to make your own game, and I cry?? Like I literally feel the feels?? <333333

[lhuplayswow]

[Fic] New Arrivals

For @lurkingowlkitten, @horde-at-war, @soulshifter-demonsbane

Contains our characters: Sila, Othorion, Meng and Kael Rating: PG-13 just to be safe

Sila grabbed a plate. Despite the war there wasn’t a shortage of ingredients. Thanks to the Zuldazar port that means fresh food, not the rations the warriors were usually supplied with. Sila quickly grabbed some dumplings, noodles and a rice pudding for dessert.

“Sila!” Othorion waved her over to where he was sitting alongside Meng.

She walked over with a smile. “Thank you.” Once she sat comfortable she threw a glance at what the other two were eating. “The food is good, isn’t it?”

“I believe we have Master Firepaw to thank for that. He organized a crew of cooks among the Huojin. Though I would enjoy a glass of Thalassian wine in addition to the food, I must say.”  Meng took a bite of his grilled tiger steak.

Othorion had to agree with that. “Something from home would be nice.”

Sila threw a glance at the harbor. A ship with familiar colours arrived just now, red and yellow phoenix banner flying high in the wind. “Looks like something from home just arrived.” That caught her companions’ attention. They both turned their heads. From their vantage point they couldn’t see what if the ship was delivering supplies, or more Sin’dorei forces.

Their questions were answered when 15 minutes later a small regiment of blood knights arrived at the barracks.They were shown around by one of the Deathguards, who guarded the Horde ships docked in the harbor.

Meng narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t aware we were getting reinforcements. We haven’t lost that many, despite the increase in blood troll activity and the Alliance incursions.” It was difficult to discern who had been dispatched. Lady Liadrin herself was stationed in the Arathi Highlands.

“As if they would tell us.” Sila stuffed her mouth with a dumpling, chewed on it and swallowed. “I think we need a few more promotions before that happens.”

Othorion finished his meal, while keeping his eyes on the new arrivals. His experience as a blacksmith told him their armor and weapons were brand new. “The Knight-Lord will probably divide them, mix the new arrivals up with the troops already stationed here. Our unit will have more knights by the end of the day.”

A series of coughs drew his attention away from the new knights to Meng, who was almost choking on his drink. He knew what that meant and rolled his eyes. By the Sunwell, the new forces would need to be given a crash course on what was currently happening. Thankfully he was not the Knight-Lord who needed to brief them.

Othorion chuckled as he noticed the expression on Meng’s face. “Someone should warn them about Tal’aman. On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t. It might be amusing.”

Sila’s eyes widened. For a moment she forgot about the fact that not all trolls in the royal city agreed with the Horde’s presence. Tal’aman was the Amani district and the feud between the Amani and Sin’dorei was centuries old. Already she noticed some of the new arrivals wandering off. Why weren’t they getting briefed first? Where was the Knight-Lord? This could only result in trouble.  Without thinking about it further Sila stuffed another dumpling into her mouth and rose from her seat. “We need to follow the newbies.”

Neither Meng nor Othorion made any attempt to move. Sila’s eyes narrowed and she tapped her hips with her fingers. Meng didn’t need to look at her to know she was doing her best to look as stern and demanding as her older sister. He met Nevaran Dawnbringer once. The Ranger-Lord had a grump face that rivaled his own. Sila, however, wasn’t quite there yet. Thus, he remained exactly where he was. “I have not finished my meal. Besides, if they do get themselves in trouble they’ll immediately know what not to do next time.”

“If a hothead is among them the situation could quickly escalate.” Sila did not give up. She would go alone if she had to, but she had to try to convince her friends this was the correct course of action. “Besides, we’re here to show the Zandalari the Horde is an asset and that we are good allies to have. It won’t do if we go around causing fights.”

Meng still didn’t look like he was getting up any soon. In fact, it seemed like it took him longer than usual to finish his meal. Othorion was also still finishing up. Sila took a deep breath and turned around. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

The two men watched her walk away. Meng just shrugged his shoulders. As long as those runts weren’t part of his unit he didn’t see why he should interrupt his meal for them. Even then only extraordinary circumstances would get him to leave his meal unfinished. He shared a glance with Othorion. The latter chuckled and rose from his seat. “I suppose I’ll go check if she’s all right. Who knows, it might be fun.” He patted Meng on the shoulder before he walked away into the direction of the stairs leading to the upper districts.

When he reached Tal’aman he could see something had already happened. The Amani guards and their warbears were involved, as well as the newly arrived blood knights. Several of them were knocked out onto the ground and another, a red haired young man, was currently involved in a brawl with three Amani trolls.

“What are you waiting for, you Amani filth? Come at me! It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

The red haired blood knight just stood there with his fists raised. He stood right in front of the Amani trolls, taunting them, yelling at them. Othorion chuckled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. It was just like he suspected. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last time either if this war continued on and on, as it usually did between the Horde and the Alliance, as it also did between the Sin’dorei and the Amani.

“You thinking you all that, elf? You think you so strong, elf?” The Amani guard laughed out loud. He raised his arms, while keeping his eye on the red haired elf in front of him. “Dese are troll lands. You on our playground now. Dis is our land. De Horde is nothing here.” To reinforce his words the troll grabbed the blood elf by his throat and lifted him up.

“We’ll see who is nothing.” The red haired blood elf grunted. It wasn’t easy to speak with someone attempting to crush your windpipe. He managed to kick the troll in his genitals and dropped onto the floor when the troll released him.

Othorion watched how the other trolls retaliated as their grunting and hurting leader ordered them to. The young blood elf seemed to be doing ok for a couple of moments. He had some skills, but he was ultimately outnumbered and took a couple of hits badly.

“Who’s winning?” Meng decided to join Othorion after all, but not without a bringing the remainder of his drink. While it wasn’t Thalassian wine, it would serve for the time being. At least this was entertaining.

Othorion shrugged. “Hard to tell. I’m betting on Sila though. Even if I don’t know where she is right now.” He had only just finished his sentence when he suddenly spotted her. Considering she was not very tall it was difficult to spot her in a crowd. Still, he did notice how the stunned blood knights were being pulled out of harm’s way and the Light surrounded them as they received healing. She could intervene any second now. Othorion already braced himself.

“Enough!!”

At that moment Sila positioned herself between the Amani trolls and the new blood knights. All of the blood elves took a few steps back, save one. The red head remained where he was, coughing and trying to catch his breath. The Amani, on the other hand, didn’t want to pull back just yet.

The Amani chief guard stepped forward, towering above Sila. “Why should we be listening to you, small elf girl? You be trespassing on Amani ground.”

If the troll meant to intimidate her Sila wasn’t impressed. She stood her ground. “If my eyes do not deceive me we are outside of Tal’aman, Amani. That means we are not trespassing.”

“De only reason you not dead yet, mon, is because you be a guest of King Rastakhan. Keep de young ones in line, or you be finding even that is not enough.” The troll turned around, keeping an eye on both Sila and the red haired hothead behind her.

Watching the trolls back away the red haired young blood elf couldn’t resist to shout after them. “Yes, you walk away! Next time you won’t get away so easily!!”

Meng had to use all of his self control to keep his poker face. Deep inside he wanted to laugh, because he didn’t need to see the look on Sila’s face in response to the young one’s taunts. She would not appreciate it at all, after trying to restore the peace.

Othorion blinked a few times. His mouth opened slightly, but the “oh-oh” didn’t exactly leave his throat. Usually Sila had to prompt him into stepping in, unless things really got out of hand. This time he felt he had to do it on his own accord.

Just as Sila turned around Othorion stepped into view and placed a hand upon the youngster’s shoulder.  For a moment his gaze met Sila’s and he could see the gratefulness there, because she looked like she was about to give a lecture on proper conduct. It looked like he didn’t need to do anything yet, so he waited for Sila’s sign.

Sila made sure she looked straight at the young red haired blood knight. “What is your name?”

He was stunned into silence now that she was facing him. A slight blush appeared on his cheek. “Kael’thas.” It was a bit embarrassing to say his name, knowing who he was named after. Now that all the commotion was over he couldn’t say he regretted what he did. Those trolls deserved it. However, having a senior blood knight stand in front of him, and disapprove of his actions, left him feeling out of sorts.

Sila placed her hands upon her hips and tilted her head slightly. “I strongly advise you to stay away from Tal’aman next time, if you are not able to keep your hatred for the Amani under wraps. We are guests here, and in the process of building an alliance with the Zandalari Empire. I strongly suggest you don’t do anything to endanger that process.”

Kael’thas lowered his eyes. He didn’t feel like he was wrong. “They started it. I’m not gonna let them attack our people just because we walked too close to them.”

Othorion smirked when he saw Sila getting ready to have a go at him. To take some pressure off of the situation he tapped Kael’thas on the shoulder. “Let’s get you to the barracks and get you and your unit briefed.”

Kael’thas eyed the other man warily. He wasn’t sure what to think. Would he get a reprimand from their commanding officer, from the Knight-Lord? That was not how he wanted to start his first deployment. He took a deep breath. It was probably better to follow his fellow blood knight.

As Othorion and Kael’thas walked away, Othorion threw a glance across his shoulder to Sila, who mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him. He smiled in acknowledgement. The other new arrivals followed silently, with some of them helping their friends who’d been stunned by the trolls. Sila followed shortly after them, not wanting anyone to be left behind and cause more trouble. As she passed Meng he joined as well, muttering something about ‘runts’ along the way.

[edosianorchids901]

For the fluff prompt thing, can you do "you're sick and you need rest" but preferably with Garak saying it to Bashir? Please and thank you!

“You’re sick and you need rest”

 ________________________

               Iknew something was wrong the moment I walked into Sickbay. Although I couldn’tsee Julian’s face as he treated an injured crewmember, I could feel thedifference in his energy. Even these days, when he was plagued by depression,he generally carried himself with a drive and vitality when it came to hiswork.

               Nottoday, however. Today, his shoulders were slumped, and he moved with an almostshuffling step. I’d noticed yesterday that he seemed a bit slow, but now he wasmarkedly worse.

               Ihalted a few feet away, waiting and observing. He moved to the side, and now Icould see that he was flushed, sweating, eyelids heavy.

               Aslight shift in my bearing brought his attention directly to me, and he smiled.“I’ll be with you in a minute, Garak.”

               Deeplyalarmed at the exhaustion evident on his face, I nevertheless returned thesmile, along with a bow. It wouldn’t do to interrupt him from his much-neededwork. Not yet, anyway.

               Oncethe freshly healed ensign left, though, I intercepted my partner’s attempt topick up a padd. “My dear Julian, are you quite all right?”

               “Ohyeah, I’m fine.” He coughed, and then rubbed his nose. “A little tired, that’sall.”

               Inarrowed my eyes, skeptical. “You appear to be ill.”

               “No,no, it’s nothing.” Detaching himself from my grasp, he reached around me tolift the padd. His hand quaked, and I quickly steadied him. “Thanks, Elim.”

               “It’smost certainly not nothing,” I saidsternly. He gave me an unimpressed look and I touched my palm to his brow. Agasp tore from me at the heat emanating from him. “Doctor, you’re absolutelyburning up!”

               “Really,I’m fine.” Eyes barely open, he began to enter data into his padd. “I’ve got alot of work to do, did you need something?”

               Pursingmy lips, I snatched his tricorder and ran it across him. “I don’t requireanything, but you do. You’re sick and you need rest.”

               “Elim,it’s rude to scan people without their permission.”

               “Haveyou ever known me to be rude?”

               Heleveled another look at me. “Garak, I don’t have time for this. There’s anillness going around the Defiant. I’vegot to get everyone back on their feet before the next phase of attacks againstthe Dominion.”

               “I’maware that there’s an illness, Doctor. In fact, I’m looking at a sick patientright now.”

               “Ihave work to do.” He pushed past me, keying more information into the nearestcomputer terminal.

               Undeterred,I followed him. “You simply must rest. You won’t be any good to the rest of theship if you worsen your condition.”

               Julianwiped sweat from his brow. “The irony of you lecturing me about a need forrest… it’s really something, you know.”

               “Well,I’m hardly as vital an asset as you.” I laid my hand on his shoulder, halfexpecting him to shrug it off. “You’re responsible for the well being of thisentire crew. I’m simply needed to shoot at things and strategize.”

               Hegave a soft snort. “Stop that.”

               “Stopwhat?”

               “Fussing.”A few more coughs tore from him, and he braced himself against the terminal.“And don’t put yourself down, either. You’re just as important as I am.”

               Thatwas a different debate altogether. “My dear,” I began again, keeping my voicesoft and coaxing as I stroked his damp curls. “You simply must rest. If somethinghappens to you, what will I do? I’d be lost without you. You know how dreadfulI am at caring for myself.”

               Thatearned me a flat, exasperated glare. “I’m not falling for that.”

               “It’strue,” I insisted. “You know how much I’m struggling with being trapped on thisdamn ship for months. What am I to do if you work yourself to death? Who willsit with me, calm me when I begin to panic?”

               “There’sother people on this ship besides you!” he snapped. I stared at him in shock,and regret flashed in his eyes. “Elim, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

               “Julian,please.” Caressing his cheek, I leaned in to press a kiss to his sweaty brow.“You can work more in a while, once you’ve rested. Let me care for you thistime.”

               Hesighed, and I could see that he was struggling to surrender his need topersonally handle every medical crisis on the ship. “All right,” he said aftera bit, closing his eyes.

               Alarmedat how quickly his remaining energy was draining away now that he’d capitulated,I slipped my arm around his waist. “Come now, Julian,” I murmured, coaxing himinto motion. “We’ll go back to our quarters, and you can lie down for a while.”

               “Thanks.”He leaned on me for support, growing weaker as we walked. “Sorry for being sucha pain about this, darling. I’m really not feeling well at all, and it’s makingme cranky.”

               “Ah,it’s not as if I’m an easy patient.” I slowed my steps and tightened my grip, wonderingif he was about to faint. “My dear?”

               Hiseyes closed again, and his head lolled forward. “Oh god,” he mumbled. “I’m sodizzy.”

               “Julian?”I bundled him against me, feeling his strength give out. “Julian!”

               “Sorry,I don’t think…” The doctor sagged in my arms, breaths ragged.

               “It’sall right, beloved.” Hooking an arm under his knees, I lifted and cradled himto my chest. “I have you, I’ll take you home.”

               “Probablyshould have just stayed in Sickbay. You shouldn’t have to carry me.” His voicewas weak, and that frightened me.

               “I’mmore than happy to carry you,” I soothed, keeping my walk as even as possibleso as not to jostle him. He fell silent, and my worry grew frantic.

               Oncewe reached our quarters, I settled him on the bunk and divested him of hisuniform. He barely reacted to anything I was doing, just taking slow, shallowbreaths.

               “There,now.” I finished dressing him in lightweight pajamas, leaving the front of hisshirt open. Taking a damp cloth, I sponged his face, neck, and chest, trying tomake him more comfortable.

               He drewa deeper breath after a while. “At least the room’s not spinning anymore.”

               “Alack of spinning is generally preferable.” I laid my hand on his forehead, andthen immediately pulled back. “Are my hands too cold? Will it make you feelworse if I touch you?”

               Hiseyes opened a crack, and he smiled at me. “It’s fine, Elim. It feels good.”

               Relieved,I grasped his hand and stroked his cheek. “Well, in that case.”

               Aftera few minutes of silence, he remarked, “So, I guess you were right about meneeding rest.”

               “Yes,indeed I was! Now, my dear Doctor, as much as I know you’re eager to return towork, you absolutely must get some sleep.” I collected tea from the replicator,bringing it back to him. “And it’s vital that you drink. You’re still running afever, and hydration is a necessity.”

               “Iknow, Elim.” He gave me an indulgent look, accepting the tea. “I’m the doctor,after all.”

               “Anddoctors are the worst patients, or so I’ve been told.” Once he finisheddrinking, I set the cup aside and placed Kukalaka in the crook of his arm.

               Iwas still fussing with his blanket and pillows when he caught my hand. “That’sfine, love. I’m all set.”

               “Ah.Very well.” I gazed down on him, feeling vaguely helpless. “I hope you’ll sleepwell. I feel as though there’s something I’m forgetting to do.”

               “Youshould also get some rest,” he prompted, sliding over a bit. “Come on.”

               Well,there was no arguing with that. I settled in beside him, still wanting to fussover him more. “Would you like anything to eat? Perhaps some soup? Or more tea?Or–”

               Julianshook his head, smiling. “You’ve tended to me as well as any doctor. Thank you,Elim.”

               Reassured,I pressed my lips to his cheek. “It’s the least I can do, after all you’ve donefor me.”

[lynfantasy]

Seeing Potential

For Lotor Week 2017 @voltronweeks Day 1: Abandoned AO3 link

Genfic, no shipping, Lotor & Ezor (platonic), Lotor & generals (platonic)

Rated for general audiences

Warning: canon-typical endangerment of minors, mentions of past abuse including child abuse, implications of “rape culture”

See AO3 listing for full warning

Fires raged. Smoke rose up from the ruins of the city – another rebellious colony now destroyed. Of course, Lotor did not care. Why should he be concerned about the state of the empire or the welfare of a few colonies that were more trouble than they were worth? He was only here because he needed supplies, and the battle’s aftermath would leave plenty of scraps and useful objects lying around until the salvage crews arrived to clean up the mess.

As he carefully waded into the remnants of the chaos, now as still as a ghost town except for the fires, he watched his small crew out of the corner of his eye. Acxa, naturally, was unaffected by the flames and chaos. She had been through worse, and she, oddly enough, seemed to rather like fire. Of course, the sight of the burning town gave her no joy, but it did not seem to strike the same kind of instinctual fear in her that most Galra had around fire.

Zethrid displayed a snarl that was likely hiding a wince of pain as she examined the wreckage around her. Almost nothing fazed her in all of their fights and travels, but a sight like this, a colony in ruins, always brought back bitter memories for her. Lotor would likely have to give her some extra training time later to help her channel her rage so that it would not affect her performance.

Narti was, as always, reactionless. The only indication of how she may have been feeling came from Kova, who hissed at and crouched away from the flames surrounding them. Narti simply picked her way through the rubble, avoiding the fires as well as she could.

Their little band was complete, in Lotor’s opinion. He led them, Acxa backed him up and strategized, Zethrid was a pure force of power, and Narti was an excellent rogue and lookout. Why would Lotor need anyone else?

A small whimper of pain drew Lotor’s attention. He made his way over and found someone still alive among the wreckage. The person seemed to be female, possibly a young adult, though Lotor suspected from her gangly appearance that she was still an adolescent. She looked native; however, her purple markings were unusual, and, when she looked up at Lotor with wide, fear-filled eyes, her yellow sclera demonstrated her Galra heritage, even though her blue irises were a native feature. Half-breeds were not unheard of, but this planet’s people had taken a special disliking to the Galra, so Lotor was mildly surprised that any of the natives had cross-bred with Galra. Unless, of course, it had not been by choice… such a thing was unusual, but not unheard of. It disgusted Lotor that the perpetrators of such acts usually got away with it, and that the children of such unholy unions were usually abandoned to a fate of disgrace or torment if not death.

As Lotor looked at the girl more closely, he determined that she was most likely only one-quarter Galra, which was even more unusual. He wondered who her parents were and how their society had received them. Judging from the old scars mixed with the new wounds on this girl, the answer was most likely not one that Lotor would enjoy hearing. Additionally, her wounds were far from fatal, which suggested that she had been abandoned on purpose, not simply left for dead.

Lotor did not often feel pity, but this strange girl elicited that very reaction from him. Still, the prince would not act on pity alone. Perhaps he could get Zethrid to carry this girl out of the wreckage, but that would be where his assistance ended. Before he could give the order, however, the girl spoke first.

“Sir, please,” she began as she struggled to get up, “allow me to become a soldier. I can serve the empire. I can… I’m strong, I know how to fight, and I’m stealthy. Please, please…” She trailed off, beginning to lose her composure, though she’d managed to stand. In her eyes, Lotor could see desperation, but also determination and some confusion with a small glimmer of hope as she looked from him to his generals. After all, they were all clearly not fully Galra.

Lotor considered the situation. It was obvious that she thought that she would be better off as a soldier than as a captive, which was correct, however… “The empire rarely accepts any soldiers who are not of full Galra blood,” Lotor answered honestly enough, “and never anyone with less than half.”

“I’m half-Galra,” the girl answered firmly and without hesitation.

Lotor raised an eyebrow at her, and he was impressed that she managed to hold his gaze until he said, “I am certain that you are not. Even if you are, you do not look nearly Galra enough to join the ranks of soldiers. Your best chance is to hide and hope that the main fleet does not find you and throw you in the arena or a work camp.”

Her expression became more intense, her eyes shining with determination as she challenged him. She forced herself to straighten to her full height and to stand firm as she declared, “Sir, I can be a valuable asset to you. Let me prove myself. Give me a chance.”

Lotor gave her his best ‘really now?’ expression, and he watched as she backed down somewhat, though she did not look away. “Why do you want to join?”

“To serve the—”

“Why do you really want to join?”

The girl paused, considering. Finally, her façade of resolve visibly crumbled, and she admitted, “I know it’s my best chance. My mother was abused and eventually killed by the people here for being half-Galra. My father met the same fate for defending her and me. They’ve abused me ever since then. I’ve barely managed to survive here by acting cute and making myself useful, but when the rebellion failed, they left me, saying that I should join the invaders like the ‘Galra scum’ I am.”

“Were you part of the rebellion?” Lotor asked, keeping his expression neutral. “Do not lie.”

She had the nerve to scoff at him, further suggesting that she was still quite young. “Do you honestly think they would have accepted me?” she retorted.

“No.”

“There’s your answer.”

Well, she definitely had spunk. Lotor could appreciate that. This attitude suited her much better than the ones she had displayed earlier. He could see bits of his younger self in her, and he knew he could train her and help her reach her full potential. “Well then… I think I may indeed have a bit of an offer for you,” he drawled with forced casualness.

Her eyes widened with surprise and hope laced only with a bit of suspicion. “Yes?”

“You see, my crew and I operate on… the outskirts of the law.” Lotor paused, waiting for her reaction, and was pleased to see her expression shift to interest. He continued, “I am still, for the time being, technically a person of high rank in the empire, but I have rather fallen out of the emperor’s graces. I use this to my advantage, staying just on the periphery of the emperor’s view. One day, I may be completely exiled—”

“Again,” Zethrid cut in.

Lotor shot her a glare. “Yes, again, but the point is that my unique position offers my followers certain freedoms that are not afforded to regular soldiers. To a certain extent we… subvert expectations. I am sure that you noticed that none of us are fully Galra?”

“Yes,” the girl agreed, looking increasingly hopeful and even a bit excited.

“While we are all half-Galra, I personally see no need to discriminate. As long as you can operate Galra technology, it makes no difference to me.”

“I can!”

“Excellent. I should warn you, however, that our operations often put us in very difficult situations. We cannot have someone holding us back because of inability. Can you keep up?”

“I’m fast,” the girl insisted, “I’m great with hand-to-hand combat, and I can be really stealthy. I’m also a quick learner.”

Lotor nodded approvingly, though he was actually most impressed at how unfazed she was by everything he had said so far. “To join us, then, is to pledge your loyalty to me, not to the empire. If you make mistakes, or if you need to leave, know that I will strand you where you cannot tell the empire anything about me or my plans.”

She looked a little nervous, but she nodded all the same.

“If you betray me or any of my crew, you will die immediately.”

Again, she nodded, swallowing harshly but still maintaining eye contact.

“Excellent. Do you know who I am?”

She froze, looking incredibly nervous as she slowly shook her head.

“That is alright,” Lotor reassured her with a small smile. “I do keep a low profile on purpose. I am not surprised that you do not recognize me, though I imagine you have probably heard of me. I am Prince Lotor.”

She inhaled sharply before saluting and bowing. “Your majesty, vrepit sa.”

Lotor could not quite hold back a wince. “Please, don’t,” he said, dropping the formal language and tone for a moment. “The salute is fine, but the rest of it… that is how people address my father, not me. Refer to me as ‘Prince’ or ‘Sir’ if you must, but drop this ‘your majesty’ business, and do not say that pledge to me.”

The girl’s expression was the clearest visual representation of ‘I’ve quiznacked this up already’ Lotor had ever seen as she quickly stood up straight and nodded, maintaining the salute.

“It’s alright,” Lotor reassured her, “at ease.”

She dropped the salute.

“Now, do you still wish to join my crew?” He locked eyes with her, watching her expression carefully for any emotions it might betray that she would rather keep hidden.

The girl paused for a moment, considering, before she nodded and confidently declared, “Yes.”

Lotor looked back at his team, gauging their reactions. Acxa’s expression was unreadable, but she gave a slight nod. Zethrid gave a half-shrug that indicated ‘eh, why not?’. Narti, of course, had no reaction, but Kova did not show any aggression toward the girl, so that was answer enough in Lotor’s opinion. He turned back to the girl. “Then, on your life, swear your loyalty to me,” he commanded.

She put her arm across her chest in a standard salute and declared, “I, Ezor, swear on my life to be loyal to Prince Lotor and to follow his commands.” Her expression faltered as she realized that she had just talked about him like he wasn’t standing right in front of her. “I mean, loyal to you…?”

Lotor did not hold back his amusement at her fumble, instead allowing himself a small chuckle and warm smile to reassure her. “Thank you, Ezor. Welcome to the team,” he replied gently. Ezor. That was actually a Galra name. Lotor wondered why her parents had given her a name that emphasized the part of her most likely to be hated by the locals.

Ezor gave him a smile of her own in return, full of hope and gratitude. Lotor felt a pang in his chest – she was certainly a bit younger than his other three generals, and she seemed to trust him so easily. He hoped that he could protect her.

“Come along,” Lotor told her. He turned to lead the way out of the ruins, but he could, thankfully, still see Ezor out of his peripheral vision as she took one step and immediately stumbled. Lotor quickly caught her and tried to help her stand, but she winced in pain. “Is something broken?” he asked gently as he shifted to better support her weight.

Her face was scrunched up from the pain, and she barely managed to grunt out, “Doubt it, but probably sprained.”

“Zethrid,” Lotor called, “can you gently carry her?”

“Yeah, of course I can, sir,” Zethrid answered casually, strolling right over and easily lifting Ezor up into her arms, carrying the smaller girl bridal-style. “This good?” Zethrid asked her.

Ezor nodded. “Go easy on the ribs – I probably dislocated a few – but yeah, this is okay.”

Lotor sighed, glad to have resolved that minor crisis. He checked the time, then scanned the horizon for any signs of Galra ships. “Zethrid, take Ezor to the ship,” he commanded. “Acxa, Narti, let’s finish up quickly.”

 Later on, after everyone was aboard the ship and flying away, the questions began. Ezor was curious about everything, but especially about how the team got together.

They answered her questions. They were hesitant at first, of course, to reveal any particularly sensitive information, but as the conversation flowed more easily, they all found themselves telling her nearly everything.

They told her about Acxa first. They started off with explaining the many interesting quirks she had gained from other side of her heritage, especially for dealing with danger, but that led to explaining where the other half of her genetics had come from and why. Acxa’s mother had been a criminal, a traitor to the empire, and had fled to an uncharted, primitive planet, thinking she could hide from the empire. There, she had procreated with one of the natives. Of course, no one can hide from the Galra empire forever. The empire had found both Acxa and her mother, and both had paid the price for her mother’s crimes. Lotor counted himself and Acxa alike lucky that he had found her – she had gained a chance to be something more than an experiment, and he had gained his most loyal soldier.

They then recounted Zethrid’s story, which was particularly interesting to Ezor. Zethrid’s home colony had participated in a similar rebellion, and her father had been one of the leaders of it. Zethrid herself had been arrested by the empire and forced to fight in the Arena. Lotor had wound up there – partly against his will, as punishment, but also partly by his own choice, to prove a point – and had noticed Zethrid’s fierce, unbreakable spirit. He had more or less befriended her by the time Acxa carried out the pre-arranged plan to break Lotor out of there, so he had invited Zethrid to come with. Since then, she had proved to be to loyal and trustworthy as well as brave and powerful.

Lotor had discovered Narti entirely by accident when looking into the druids’ experiments. She had been locked away in the deepest experimentation chambers the druids had – Lotor suspected that she had been Haggar’s personal project, at least at some point – for stars-know-how-long. Lotor told Ezor that he had noticed a spark of ability in Narti, decided to take chance on her, and had never regretted it since. This was mostly true, but something about Narti still kept Lotor on edge, though she had been unwaveringly loyal and incredibly useful so far, so Lotor kept her on the team. He wished it was a little easier to communicate with her, since she was entirely mute, but her actions spoke loud enough, and Lotor knew that she was a highly capable soldier.

And now, they had Ezor. Lotor was not entirely sure where she would fit into their little dynamic, but he had no doubt that she would find her place. All of his generals had been lost when he found them, and Ezor was no different. All of them owed him their lives, and Lotor knew that he could trust them with his. It would take the impossible to break them apart.

 If anyone asked Lotor why he had taken in his generals, he would have answered that he was the type of person who could see potential, which was true. Perhaps a more honest answer, however, would instead be that Lotor had been lost and abandoned once, in the chaos of a war and the debris of a planet that had been the key to half of his heritage, in the fallout afterwards as the people he had once loved as his parents revealed themselves to be monsters, and now he was stronger for it. He could see potential where no one else could – the forgotten, the lost, the broken, the unwanted, the abandoned – and he knew how to make that spark of potential into a flame of ability. Lotor found broken scraps and fashioned them into deadly weapons. Lotor found abandoned people and made them into warriors.

[tisfan]

I see a lot of fics where Bucky messes up his arm in order to spend time with Tony. Can I have one where Tony gets really worried about him, thinking it's a form of self harm, and Bucky is all like "but I just wanted him to touch me what do now"

Aspects of the Self

Tony scratched at his chin with the end of thescrewdriver. “This is a good bit of mess, Freezer Burn. What’d you do, get intoan arm-wrestling contest with a blender?” 

“Mighta grabbed hold of the tail rotor for thatAIM short-range chopper,” Bucky said. That was, technically true, although thedamage was a little more self-inflicted than that. Hydra, curse every singleone of their heads, did good work and the chopper’s stabilizing blade hadpretty much disintegrated as it rattled onto his adamantite-alloy fingers. Butat the end of the battle, he’d purposely gotten into a pissing contest with theWolverine. 

On the plus side, Logan had been spotted tryingto unbend one of those damn claws because it wasn’t retracting correctly. 

And further plus, Bucky was down in theworkshop. Tony had one soothing hand on his shoulder and was inspecting theinterior workings of his wrist and fingers. 

On the bad side, he’d managed to fuck up histhumb but good this time. 

“I know the expression from the 40’s is to putyour best foot forward,” Tony said, muttering around a mouthful of interiorscrews, “but really, you need to stop stuffing your hand into every hornet’snest you come across.” 

Bucky scoffed. “An insect’s not likely to botherme.” 

“I’ll do you a favor, Red October, and notmention that you said that to Jan, shall I?” 

God, Bucky loved this. Tony’s hands were magic.Gentle, almost tender, as he worked. His mouth, that sinful double-curve was amiracle, made for kisses, but also one of the snarkiest, saltiest, mostsarcastic thing Bucky’d ever had the pleasure of listening to. Tony was witty,quick, brilliant. 

Tony would talk to the arm like it was abeautiful dame, sweet-talk it into working, scold it lovingly when it wasbroken, encourage the gears and servos when they were grinding together.Treated the arm like some marvel of technology and engineering, instead of aweapon to fear and hate. That wasn’t entirely new; there’d been a couple ofHydra technicians who were impressed with the arm and not out and out terrifiedof the assets, but usually whoever was supervising didn’t allow for idlechatter. Bucky could only tell those techs because their hands were unusuallysoft and gentle. They didn’t last long in Hydra. One head replaced by two more,but the two were almost always less than the one; less smart, less soft. Miceand men didn’t survive long in a pit of vipers. 

Sitting on a workbench in Tony’s ‘shop; lettingTony tinker inside his arm, feeling the twitch and tease of Tony’s fingersalong his nerves played merry havoc with Bucky’s emotions. There were timeswhen Tony put away his tools and shut the maintenance panels and Bucky wantedto cry; there were times when Tony brushed his fingers over Bucky’s wrist andBucky wanted nothing more than to pull the man into a bruising kiss. 

Bucky had decades; fractured and broken, wherehe felt nothing. 

This…. The feelings that Tony was drawing outwith each turn of his tools, with each small kindness, witty quip… thawing aheart long since frozen and teaching it how to beat again… this was worth theincidental pain and inconvenience of putting himself in harm’s way. 

“You know,” Tony said, leaning back and lookingat Bucky very seriously, “there’s got to be a better way for you to handle this…” 

Bucky blinked. “What?” 

“Well, I’m hardly the best person to recommendhealthy coping mechanisms. I sometimes think it’s a prerequisite to thesuper-hero biz, some sort of terrible self-esteem crossed with dangerous levelsof Atlas syndrome and an epic guilt complex.” 

“What syndrome?” 

“Carrying the weight of the world on yourshoulders,” Tony said, twisting the multitool through his fingers like a stagemagician. “Try to keep up.” 

“Which’s got what to do with me?” 

“Genius level IQ, remember? And while I’m notterribly observant, sometimes,” Tony said, flipping the tool into the air a fewtimes and catching it on the way down, “I know a little something aboutself-inflicted damage. This wasn’t an accident. Neither were the last fourtimes you’ve been down here. I’ve seen you tryin’ to damage the arm in combat,and when that fails, you resort to more and more extreme self-mutilation.” 

Shit. Bucky wondered where this lecture wasgoing; the cost of materials to repair the arm, wasting Tony’s time, or– 

“What I can’t figure is if it’s the arm itselfthat you hate, that it’s part of you, and was originally Hydra tech, in whichcase I’ll ask you again if you want a complete re-design. It will put you outof commission for a while, and you’ll have to train and adjust to a new system.Or if it’s you, yourself, that’s the victim of your self-destructive tendenciesand is this going to move on to you harming parts of yourself that aren’t soeasily fixed. I know you’ve got healing factor that’s pretty damned impressive,and for all I know, you could be sharpening that knife of yours on your skinand it heals by morning. If that’s the case –” 

“I don’t hate myself,” Bucky protested. 

“But you are hurting yourself, on purpose?” Tonylooked at him like this wasn’t a question. It wasn’t. Tony knew. Fuck. 

“Yeah,” Bucky admitted. He was going to have tostop; Tony wasn’t going to put up with his childishness any longer. He was likea school kid with a crush on the nurse. 

“Do you want me to bring up – er, design specsfor a new arm?” 

That caught Bucky’s attention. “You already havethem.” Also, not a question. 

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, sue me. It’s what I do…and while this arm is a glorious piece of tech and I wish you’d stop abusingit, because that just hurts, it hurts me, Bucky, to see it all mangled up likethat. But I can make you better. I have the technology.” 

Of course Bucky had seen the Six MillionDollar Man; Clint had decided it was pretty much crucial to Bucky’sreintroduction to modern science fiction. He grinned. A new arm would meanweeks, at least, in the workshop, under Tony’s care and supervision. But – 

Then it would be over, and while Bucky couldeasily and without anguish, tear up the arm Hydra had given him, he didn’tthink he could bring himself to deliberately damage anything Tony made specialfor him, and what would he do, without these hours in the shop? 

“I don’t… I can’t…” 

“A new arm wouldn’t solve the problem,” Tonysaid, matter-of-fact. 

“I would… I would love a new arm, if you builtit,” Bucky said, hesitating. “But no, it wouldn’t solve this problem.” He madea shapeless, helpless gesture. 

“Bucky,” Tony said, infinitely gentle. “I’mgoing to need to tell Cap about this, if you don’t help me solve it. I can’tlet you go into combat with a deathwish.” 

“It’s not a deathwish,” Bucky protested. He knewabout those. He’d had those before. Wasn’t his last thought before he hit theground off the train You can’t hurt me anymore? Turned out he’d beenwrong about that. But before, during the war, he knew about pain that wasn’tgoing to end. It squeezed around his heart a little know; pain for what hecouldn’t have. 

“Look, I’ll talk to Steve about it,” Tony said.“We can find a solution, get you some help. Something –” 

“Don’t tell Steve,” Bucky said. He scrambled tohis feet. “Look, I know what the problem is, Tony, it’s not… it’s not somethingthat can be fixed.” 

“You are self-harming,” Tony said. “Ican’t do nothing. It’s not in me to watch a teammate self-destruct. Let me helpyou.” 

“You are helping me,” Bucky burst out.“You are. Being down here, with you. That’s helping. I didn’t… didn’t know howelse to get your attention. I like it, okay? When you work on the arm, when youtouch… I like it. Look, I know I’m bothering you. I’ll go, I’ll stay out ofyour hair, I’m –” 

“Woah, woah, woah, Dostoyevsky,” Tony said.“Hey, no, don’t run away. I– Come on, Bucky, just talk to me, okay? What is ityou need?” 

“You, Tony,” Bucky whispered, his voicebreaking. “Just you.” 

“Huh,” Tony said. “You know, you don’t have tohurt yourself for that, gorgeous.” He took a step closer, stood closer to Buckythan he ever had before. Bucky could feel the heat seeping off the man’s skin,the tickle of his breath. “I’ve been right here, the whole time.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to say something,anything, he didn’t even know what. But Tony’s mouth came up to touch his andBucky decided that there wasn’t anything he needed to say that badly.

He drew a hand around the back of Tony’s neckand pulled him closer. 

Yeah, this was definitely better than amultitool and some spare servos.

Much better.

[wizardsnwookies]

FOC012418 - Jail Break

Luke stared up at the ceiling and tried to find his focus. His time with Ben was brief, but he had learned that much at least. Focus was perhaps the most important asset in a Jedi’s arsenal, and nothing was possible without it. Of course, that was easy to say when you weren’t locked up in cell that had just barely been hosed down enough to mask the stench of it’s previous occupant, only a few hours away from being forced to fight for your life to the amusement of a hutt.

He knew hutts all too well, he was from Tattooine after all. Graakus was different some, he had an air of superiority and intellect about him. He thought himself above the others, whether that was true or not was yet to be seen. Meanwhile, his friends in the rebellion were in the middle of the Mid-Rim push and depending on how tomorrow went, he may not survive to give them the help they needed. Wasn’t this how this all started after all? Retrieving Ben’s journals, following whatever trails they left, so that he could better aid the Rebellion? Well...that plan sure went south fast.

TAP TAP TAP

A faint tapping sound drew his attention away from his own self-pity and to the transparasteel window. It was too early to be fed. Wait...was that...was that a droid? Yes. A small spy droid, something he had only heard of in his farmboy life. Small and agile and almost completely silent. Ever since they came on the market, paranoid spacers would spread wild theories that these droids were all over the place. Secretly weeding out those who spoke out against the Empire.

It had written something on his window with...was that scat? Luke stood and walked towards the door for a better look.

OUT?

He should have thought it over more, he knew that, but his eagerness to get back to the fight got the better of him. Luke locked eyes with what he could only assume were the optics of the tiny drone, and nodded.

---

“He’s in.” Rugor handed the controls back over the Vrssl and smiled. It was his first time handling the droid and he had managed to fly circles around his companions own skills as a pilot. “Whoever he is, I hope he can fight.”

“I have my theories on that. There’s no way he’s in there because he’s a rebel.” Vrssl frowned and looked at the controller. How did he managed to be so precise? “If that was all, he would have sold him up the river the minute he found him.

“I’m thinking he’s ‘gifted.’ Like our friend Jan.”

GRAAAAH ROOONK

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t fully understand it myself, but I do know it’s pretty much random on who is and who isn’t.”

“OK, so we have a heavy hitter on our side and a way inside.” Kara bit into her yeast cake and brushed the crumbs off her chest. Before making contact with the rebel in his cell they hand managed to map out every inch of the lower complex. Past the slave chambers and staging area for the arena was the massive dirt pit itself. Along either side of that ran long curving corridors for maintenance and access to the bestiary on the opposite side.

They watched as the Gamemaster entered and tended to what they could only assume would be tomorrow’s main event. No one was quite sure what it was, but they knew it wouldn’t be anywhere near a close fight between this monster and the young mane, gifted or not. Roughly the size of a Rancor, it was covered in horns and spines shooting out its shoulders and back, red beady eyes stared out between the bars, and a biotech arm gripped the steel as it waited for its master to feed it.

The Gamemaster talked to it soothingly for a few moments before reaching over to a panel on the side of the cell and with a hiss a small door opened on the side and a medium sized cattle animal scurried into the bedding. Thankfully Vrssl flew the drone into the opening before the bloody feast had begun, but it still could be heard over the audio sensors.

Beyond this hatch was their way in. A large freight elevator led upstairs to a loading dock on the side of the complex, where a single security pad protected from unauthorized entry.

“Without some kind of security access we aren’t going to get far.” Kara gestured to one of the many doors within the complex whose access required a fob. Their drone had managed to slip in unseen as attendants and Magna guards made their way back and forth, they wouldn’t have the same luxury.

“Aisha said the Gamemaster was a slave too right?”

“Yeah?”

“So, we just bring him in on the fold.” Vrssl shrugged.

“One problem, how are you going to talk to him?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” Vrssl grinned.

---

“Excuse me Sirs, but I’m afraid that’s for staff only.” The tongruta working the counter seemed to be the only staff today, it was already approaching evening, and the bets would not open for tomorrows battle for hours now. She was used to the addicted and the desperate to roll in asking her for insider info, but this strange pair did not so much address her as they made way confidently towards the lower level door.

“Oh, it’s fine sweetie.” Vrssl put on his smarmiest smile and put a hand up to wave her away. “I’m with the big guy here, you can get his autograph on our way out.” He heard her fumble with her words behind them, they had not so much broken their stride and Graalbar’s hair hand already had a firm grip on the handle.

“I’m...sorry, but that area is closed at the moment. We are busy preparing for tomorrow’s battle.”

“We won’t be long, I just need to tell the Gamemaster he’s going to have to step up his game if he wants my client in the arena again.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Vrssl let out an exaggerated sigh, impatiently tapping his foot on the tile floor. “The last fight was pitiful. I mean, come on, a Rancor? That was nowhere near up to snuff for his abilities am I right?”

Graalbar made a show of yawning, flexing his chest so the oiled Rancor leather of his armor groaned.

“So, we’re going to sit down and work something out together. Really give them a good show. You think you made some money last time, ho ho. I’ll show you some serious credits.” The togruta watched as small bird-taloned fingers rubbed themselves together. But she still had no idea how to handle the situation, she was just a counter girl. Her job was to maintain the counter, take the usual delivers of dirty credits for laundering, and shoo away the riff raff.

“Perhaps I should call someone.”

“Oh, by all means.” The little man threw up his hands in frustration and began to pace before stopping to reach for a comm in his pocket. “No, you know what allow me. Lets call your master Graakus and see what he thinks about this.”

Vrssl carefully watched the girl for her reaction, he had to be sure of two things. One, that she was thoroughly intimidated enough to let them through without checking out their story. Two, make sure she was not a slave they needed to rescue. He wouldn’t like himself very much if they had to put a bolt through a slave’s head if things went south. A willing employee on the other hand...

Her eyes narrowed in confusion at the word “master,” but it was quickly replaced by panic at the mention of the hutt. “Oh, n-no please, that’s not necessary. Let me notify the Gamemaster and see if he has a few moments to spare.”

“Finally, some cooperation.” So, not a slave. Good to know. She looked shaken enough too that Vrssl let his hand drop from the hidden blaster. He went through the plan through his mind one more time while they waited, here more than any other job they pulled, the consequences for things to go very bad were particularly nasty.

He and Graalbar would get the Gamemaster on their side, he was a slave after all and freedom was their best bargaining chip. Barring that, get the key off him by any means possible. Free the slaves and move them through the maintenance halls that ran alongside the arena. Once in the bestiary they free the giant monster in waiting to cover their flee out the loading dock and to a waiting service van driven by Kara outside. Meanwhile, Rugor monitored the entire events over the spy drone watching their backs, and in case things got really bad, keep the ship warm and ready to jump.

Behind them the door opened and a tall human stepped out wearing flowing red and purple robes, his face partially obscured by a mask and cowl, but his eyes spoke volumes. He was flanked by a pair of two magna guards who clanked to a rigid stop, their metal feet making heavy clicking noises against the polished floor.

“What is this? I’m busy.” The gravely voice was cold and impatient to match the intensity of his eyes. He had immediately recognized Graalbar upon opening the door, taking the briefest of moments pause before moving attention to the small creature next to him.

“Ahh finally! How you doing? We’ve got to talk you and me.” Vrssl leaned up on his toes to slap the man on the small of his back, the highest point he could reach, but also one of the more likely places to hide a blaster. He felt only well toned muscle and sinew.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of your work. Really, you’re like an artist down there. But I think you’ll agree my client isn’t your typical fighter, and therefore he can’t be expected to perform at his best with your typical fighter’s challenges.”

“...excuse me?”

“No need to get salty, like I said, it’s no criticism on what you do. If anything, it’s his fault for being too damn good, am I right?”

Graalbar flexed his muscles proudly, the Gamemaster could only stare at the two of them.

“Go away. I’ve got a big day tomorrow. Make sure to place your bets.” He had taken no more than two steps towards the door before the Gamemaster found himself being pulled down to the small creature’s level. He was small for such a size, and the grip when he wrapped an arm around his shoulder was not one of a business man trying to close a deal. What was this?

“Now hand on, don’t be hasty. We’ve got an oppertunity to really draw in the crowds. You want to make your master a lot of money don’t you?”

There it was, the emphasis on the word “master.” There was more to it than just an intimidation tactic. Slowly their eyes met and the human felt breath on his neck as a whisper was passed to his ear. “Or maybe you’d prefer your freedom?”

The magna droids clicked and roughly pulled the two apart, pushing Vrssl up to the wall and taking an aggressive stature with their staffs. They were still unlit, but on their own the metal rods could still do some damage. Straightening, the Gamemaster never broke eye contact with the small alien. Instead he held up a hand and spoke a firm command.

“Stop.”

Immediately the droids stood to attention in the places. Vrssl knew these droids fairly well, had actually hoped to get his hands on a few himself someday. They were intimidating and dangerous, yes, but they followed commands as opposed to a processing chip. It didn’t matter that two shady characters were suddenly demanding to see the Gamemaster, and then roughly grabbing at him. When the command to stop was made, they asked no questions on the matter.

“We should have a chat. Follow me.”

---

The glow of the monitor window was the only light in the lounge. Rugor found it easier to concentrate that way. The cockpit was much too full of lights and readouts. The engines had been fired up and idling ever since the door to the Slavemaster’s private room had closed.

The audio sensors on this thing weren’t great as is, and then they had to go and talk in hushed whispers even when in private. Based on the body language it seemed to be going well enough. The Gamemaster was relaxed, attentive. He sat hunched over on his cot, elbows resting on his knees while Vrssl talked. He was still getting nervous however.

This was taking too long. He looked at his chrono. Vrssl must have gotten to the gist of things by now. It would stand to reason that anyone enslaved to a hutt would jump at the chance for their freedom. So then why-

The Gamemaster stood, his posture changing immediately. His knees bent just slightly, feed firmly planted, arms tense at his sides.

Slag.

The door behind them opened up without either of the three touching the inside panel. In the doorway he could see the outlines of several Magnaguads, electrostaffs lit and crackling, and a pair of human guards with blasters. Rugor lunged for the comm.

“Kara!!! They’re blown, I’m on my way but you’ll be able to help them before I get anywhere close.”

“What? Wait-”

He didn’t wait to hear her objections. The old adage of “no honor among thieves” came to mind, and was quickly cast aside. Saving your own skin was all well and good, but people forget the part where you have to live with the skin your in afterwards.

The speeder wove through the traffic effortlessly, heeding no mind to laws of speed or safety. He wasn’t even sure it was designed to go this fast and hold together. He’d have to find out, because he wasn’t slowing down for anything. Checking his chrono made his stomach feel empty, there was no chatter on the comms since he had called Kara.

Streaming headlights gave way to the growing glow of the approaching complex. Still no word. What was going on in there? Rugor gripped the wheel, if they were in trouble they needed a distraction. Draw the attention away from then.

He got an idea. It was not a good idea.

Rugor tugged on the safety straps holding him into his seat and made sure they were nice and tight. His legs moved away from the sides and the front well. Hands held firmly at 10 and 2. Take a deep breath now, this is going to be loud, this is going to hurt.

Civilians watched in horror as a blur of color and sound dove from the air at an impossible speed. A deafening crash filled the night air and shards of transparasteel fell like rain. They could smell burning plastisteel. The front lobby towards Graakus’s arena complex was a puzzle of durasteel and concrete. It was hard to tell that a speeder existed within the twisted and dented wreckage. But what amazed them most was the emergence of a living being from within.

Rugor stumbled out onto rubble and shattered transparasteel. Everything around him had an eerie silence about it. In a single instant there was an overwhelming explosion of sound and a terrible jolt threw his body against the straps. And then, nothing. Silence. Stillness. It would take a moment for him to even remember what was happening. Right...I crashed.

He took only a moment to assess the damage to his body. He’d life, a few scratches and banged up limbs, otherwise everything was intact. Wobbly legs brought him to his feet. Checking his chrono he saw only a broken face and frozen hands. It didn’t matter. He was here, he had made quite a lot of noise. He would just have to face whatever awaited him downstairs.

Graalbar had definately been here. Broken pieces of Magnaguard droids scattered the floor. Arms gleefully ripped from their sockets and tossed to the side, innards trailing and leaking oil. Despite this, all was quiet. Not a sound could be heard down the hallways. Rugor wasn’t sure if it was just him or not, maybe he was still in shock from the crash.

He leaned his head into the doorway of the Gamemaster’s private quarters and found a pile of robes crumpled on the ground by the cot, a large sticky pool of read forming beneath him. Good, they at least made it out of the room in one piece. He followed the carnage, it wasn’t difficult. It seemed that at least a dozen droids had fallen in their pursuit of his companions, and yet not a single drop of blood was to be found outside of the Gamemaster’s room. Maybe he acted too quickly. Had they already come and gone? No. Kara or someone would have contacted him. So where were they?

His answer appeared around the corner. Just barely fitting in the cramped corridors, Graakus sat on his spindled robot legs, a single muscular arm holding up Graalbar by the throat. His hair feet dangled mere inches off the floor. Vrrsl was standing to the side, eyes fixed on the scene before him. Around them all, nearly two dozen more Magnaguards stood with shockstaffs charged and ready.

“Ahhh, there’s the last rat. Come join us, please.” Graakus had no smug smile on his face. The slug had a fiery anger in his eyes, a fury that seemed to just barely contained.

“You want to talk about rats Graakus.” Vrssl stood defiant and fished inside his pocket. “Let’s talk about your precious Gamemaster.”

His hand returned and held out what looked like a small signet ring made of polished durasteel. It looked innocuous enough, it didn’t even have any carvings on it, only a small notch in the side. Graakus opened his mouth to speak but was quickly silenced when Vrssl reached out with his free hand and slide the notch along the circumference of the signet disk. What was once solid durasteel proved to be closed shutters. With a slight grinding sound the shutters slide away to reveal an engraved gear. The unmistakable emblem of the Galactic Empire.