#and somehow suddenly exponentially more difficult

[wishfishy]

I get tasks done so fast!

I got a proper desktop computer to upgrade from my old chunk of a laptop that I’ve been using for years and years back in, oh, November.

And I got it all set up and running a mere three and a half months later! So speedy.

[slavghoul]

Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful. 

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through? 

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

[misfits-of-zaun]

It had felt so insidiously natural in the moment that he hadn't batted an eyelid when Jinx stretched out to settle legs over his own - the body heat of her felt nice, like a weighted blanket. It felt companionable. It made it easy to talk and show her what he was working on. It was nothing out of the ordinary for their friendship nowadays.

Of course, it was the simple everyday normal things that were now conspiring to completely unravel him.

There was a jolt in his gut, a spark, as Jinx sat upwards and leaned over his shoulder for a closer look at the prototype in his hands; he was acutely aware of the way she slotted so snugly against his side, the way her nails scraped over his skin as she anchored herself with a hand on his opposite shoulder. The way she was looking at him.

Their faces were very, very close together.

Ekko's breath froze in his lungs for a moment. He realised that he was staring at her lips like a transfixed fool, prototype and its related conversation entirely forgotten.

Code red! Code red!

"This isn't working," He blurted out abruptly.

"Well... I mean... I think this is all pretty normal."

That damn word. He should have known it would come back to bite him. But the worst part was, Jinx technically had a point.

Flushing, Ekko hastily turned his head away, shrugging off the arm draped over his shoulders so that he could reach up and scratch self-consciously at the back of his neck - as if doing that would somehow erase the tingly sensation of her nails scraping lightly against the sensitive skin there, and banish the thrumming in his veins.

"I know, I know - but I just - i-it's different now! There's a vibe!" Ekko retorted, discomposed and desperately avoiding eye contact. There was a distinct strained note to his voice as he struggled to articulate himself. Surely Jinx had at least noticed that much. Surely she was just messing with him.

...You feel it too, right?

It wasn't the level of tactile contact that had changed. His own emotional response to it, however, had. And stuffing those feelings back into their box had become exponentially more difficult now wjth the vivid memory of her lips pressing against his own, rattling around in his head at random moments.

...Am I being an idiot?

He kept his gaze firmly on his knees. Which, unfortunately, also meant he was looking at Jinx's knees - at her bare calves settled comfortably over his thighs, pinning him down in his seat. A wildly cornered part of him contemplated jumping to his feet and dislodging her to regain some personal space. But no, that course of action wouldn't be very proportionate for a problem that was entirely his own.

Reacting as though Jinx had crossed a line when, to her credit, she hadn’t done anything beyond the scope of their usual dynamic, wouldn't be fair. This wasn't her fault, and she didn't deserve to get her feelings hurt any more than they already had been by his previous poor handling of the situation.

"...I - I think..." Shit, his mouth suddenly felt very dry. Acting on a dazed sort of autopilot, he set the prototype down on the bench next to him; gloved hands fidgeted for a few restless, conflicted seconds, before tentatively settling on Jinx's knees.

"We should revisit that, uh... talk, we had. Before. I think there's still some stuff we need to clear up."

@f1shbonez

[cagemasterfantasy]

Phantom Ranking (5e)

Guide

1=useless

2=often useful

3=sometimes useful

4=perfect

Whispers of the Dead 4 the ability to pick up a proficiency on short notice is incredibly useful. If you can combine this with other buffs like Enhance Ability and Guidance you can get around nearly any skill-based or tool-based challenge if you have time to prepare. Most of the time you can leave this on a low-importance skill proficiency but most tools won’t come up unless you’ve got time for a short rest. No one is going to ambush you and ask you to break out the Brewer’s Tools and make them some beer

Wails from the Grave 2 starts very slow (1d6 twice a day) but ramps up exponentially as your Sneak Attack damage and your Proficiency Bonus increase. The damage is Necrotic which is rarely resisted and it’s automatic provided that you made a successful Sneak Attack so it’s great for enemies that may be difficult to hit. Even as it gains in power you don’t want to throw this around needlessly. You’ll never get more than 6 uses (not counting Tokens of the Departed) and they’ll never deal more than 5d6 damage so you need to be strategic

Tokens of the Departed 4 I love everything about this feature. The theme is cool the mechanic is fun the resource pool is appropriately limited but easy to restore and the benefits are fun thematically appropriate, and really good. You get three benefits at level 9 but at level 13 you can recharge Ghost Walk with a trinket and at level 17 you wake up from longs rests with a free soul trinket. The first benefit is without doubt the best of the 3 and it’s good enough that you should nearly always keep a Soul Trinket handy. Advantage on Constitution saves isn’t quite as good as proficiency but it’s close. Unfortunately Phantom doesn’t need to worry about Concentration unless you take Magic Initiate or Multiclass so you don’t get to wave your token around every time you cast a Concentration spell. The second benefit helps with Wails of the Grave and it’s easily your most frequent way to spend trinkets. Wails from the Grave is a decent bit of damage by this level matching what a spellcaster can do with many cantrips. However the Proficiency Bonus usage limit won’t get you far so you can destroy a trinket to get a free bit of damage. Every time you think “is a new trinket worth my Reaction right now?” remember that it’s a small pile of easy necrotic damage when you need it later. The third benefit is basically Speak with Dead, but you only get 1 question. Otherwise it has all the same problems where the subject can be vague misleading or otherwise unhelpful. Very situational but if you can somehow make it work it’s excellent. This also has a curious edge case where the creature which allowed you to produce the token might be alive again especially in cases where your allies die and a raised from the dead. You might use this to ask a question of a creature who is currently alive leading to hilarious situations where the ghostly apparition of a living creature appears in the same room as that creature only to say something totally unhelpful before disappearing. The one flaw in the whole thing is that it falls prey to the classic Bag of Rats trick. You can kill any creature to generate a new Soul Trinket so if you have a bag of rats or access to other easily-expendable creatures you can kill them out of combat to recharge. Your DM might justifiably make some adjustments to disallow that (requiring a CR above 0 may be sufficient especially at level 9) so try not to lean on the abuse case too much. This generally won’t work with summoned creatures (they need to die not just be reduced to 0 hit points) and since death and being reduced to 0 hp suddenly mean different things I encourage DMs to start tracking death saves for enemies

Ghost Walk 4 a 1-minute duration on this would be good. A 10-minute duration on this is fantastic. 10 minutes is obviously plenty if you’re using this in combat but it’s more important outside of combat where you might need to move through walls floors or ceilings while scouting. The 10 ft. move speed is tiny but remember that you have Cunning Action so you can Dash as a Bonus Action. If you can get buffs like Longstrider they’ll do a lot to help both because any flat numeric increase is relatively large compared to 10 ft. and because you can essentially double the effect by dashing without spending your Action

Death's Friend 3 at this level Wails of the Grave deals 4d6 damage just short of its maximum at 6d6. Adding that damage to your primary target when you use Wails of the Grave means that your Sneak Attack deals 50% more damage though it’s not clear if you can multiply the damage on a critical hit. I believe that you can’t because the damage is applied to the target from a separate source rather than added to the damage of original attack like effects like Divine Smite. The second benefit of this feature ensures that you have at least 1 Soul Trinket at the end of a Long Rest. This is a crucial benefit so that you can benefit from Advantage on your Constitution saves so try not to burn your trinket the first time you want to use Wail of Souls. But since you get the trinket for free this also makes it easier to spend your last trinket right before you take a long rest. Of course you could just use the bag of rats trick to get free Soul Trinkets

Final Ranking 3 ok what if Ouija boards were a subclass? What if you got class features from talking to dead people? And what if those class features included necrotic damage and turning into a ghost? Enter Phantom. Phantom is a novel exploration of interactions with the dead as a class feature making Necrotic damage and death-related stuff available to a class with no ability to cast spells. Normally interacting with the dead is primarily done by Clerics and certain necromancy spells. Phantom has a much more direct connection to the spirits of the dead gaining proficiencies damage output and the ability to turn into a ghost. Phantom’s most novel and interesting mechanic is their pool of Soul Trinkets. These trinkets allow Phantom to fuel their most interesting features by gathering trinkets when creatures die nearby then spend those trinkets for extra damage or to ask dead creatures questions. Tragically this feature doesn’t become available until level 9. Waiting for creatures to die rather than being reduced to 0 hit points also makes it important for the DM to track death saves for enemy creatures which is a minor annoyance that most DMs are happy to avoid so discuss how your DM would prefer to handle that aspect of the subclass. Players may also find that Wails from the Grave is underwhelming at low levels compared to other subclass features at the same level. Phantom definitely builds slowly and may not feel really satisfying until level 9

[shynmighty]

Aeseca & Rass #19 for the kiss prompt if you'd like! (I hope I got the ship right. If I didn't a ship of your choosing!)

For this prompt list! I'm still happily accepting prompts for this, too!

BTW, This ask made me SO HAPPY!!! I have never been more excited to write something! Thank you so much for asking for Aeseca & Rass because I LOVE THEM!!!! And sorry it took so long!!!

Anyway, enjoy a little Aeseca and Rass pretending they aren't crazy about each other!

19. ...For Luck By Shynmighty Pairing: Aeseca/Rass Ordo

              The military wing of the Alliance base was always a major hub of activity. The flow of constant movement and cacophony of voices lent it the appearance of a machine or an organism, at least Aeseca thought so from where she stood near the entrance.

              She was actually more focused on one solitary figure, around whom the clamor seemed to blend into white noise. He was standing near a shuttle, datapad in hand, and a small furrow in his brow as he perused whatever the contents were. No matter how many times Aeseca attempted to readjust her view to the goings-on in the periphery, her gaze seemed to fall magnetically back on him.

              He tipped his head to move a strand of black hair when it fell across his line of sight. For some reason, that made Aeseca smile a little.

               You came here to talk to him, so talk to him. The thought, meant to be encouraging, sounded almost reproachful and caused her to hesitate. Again. She had been trying to walk across the wing to talk to him for nearly ten minutes. Luckily, he seemed too absorbed in his datapad to notice her standing there, staring at him like a moron.

              This really should not be that difficult, she thought. She had faced far more terrifying situations than speaking to Rass Ordo. Somehow, that fact did not help much.

              She took a deep breath, letting the air in her lungs propel her feet forward at last. The temperature in the massive room seemed to climb exponentially with every step, particularly around the tips of her ears.

              He noticed her approaching. He was looking up from the datapad now, his bright brown eyes focused on hers. He smiled, and the momentum that had carried her so far faltered. She stopped in her tracks before she stumbled, rearranging her face into what she hoped was a casual smile.

              “Hey,” was all he said.

              Several thoughts converged, collided, dispersed, and realigned themselves in Aeseca’s mind over a matter of seconds. Most of them were either self-deprecating or pointing out a number of his attractive qualities. None were terribly helpful.

              “Rass,” she finally managed. She bought herself a little time by clearing her throat, hoping to try again, perhaps a little less lamely. “I heard you were leaving.” She carefully left out the part about how that was why she was in the military wing to begin with – a strange compulsion to speak to him before he left Odessen.

              Rass’ smile diminished a little as he nodded. “Yeah, just got word from Shae, there have been some sightings of the Hidden Chain out in the Outer Rim. Torian and I are going to scope that out, and maybe see if we can’t flush them into the open.”

              “I see,” Aeseca replied, “sounds like you’ll have your hands full.”

              “We’ll see,” Rass shrugged. “Still got to get a lecture from Jekiah headed my way. Only reason I haven’t taken off yet.”

              “Nothing serious, I hope?”

              “I mean, if you ask Jekiah, he’d probably tell you it’s all very serious.” The corner of Rass’ mouth turned up again. “Don’t worry, I’ll survive. Probably.”

              Aeseca tried to summon that cool, relaxed attitude that had come to her so suddenly and unexpectedly on Ruhnuk. Whatever it was that had allowed her to talk to him with such ease had mysteriously evaporated around one day later, when she had been forced to admit to herself that she found him attractive. All she could muster was a bit of a forced laugh.

              “Who said I was worried?” It came out sounding less like the banter she had hoped for and far more defensive.

              “You mean, you don’t lie awake at night concerned for my health and safety?” Rass, as usual, did not miss a beat. “You wound me.”

              He wasn’t totally wrong – but his health and safety were not the reasons why the thought of him kept her awake at night.

              “I don’t—” She began.

              “Relax, I’m just teasing.”

               “Again.” Aeseca sighed, but she couldn’t stop the small smile that his teasing brought to her face.

              Rass chuckled, “Admit it, you love that I’m a pain in your—”

              “Rass!”

              Aeseca and Rass turned towards the platform, where Jekiah Ordo stopped short of striding over the edge, his eyes narrowing at his younger brother.

              “We need to talk before you leave,” Jekiah said, crossing his arms over his armored chest. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

              “That does sound serious,” Aeseca admitted once Jekiah was out of earshot.

              “Like I said, I’ll be fine,” Rass replied. “This is far from my first reprimand from him.”

              “Even so,” Aeseca stepped closer to him, taking advantage of a small wisp of courage while she still felt it. Before he could reply, she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and brushed a quick, feather-light kiss against his cheek. Her lips tingled with the memory of his stubble as she stepped back again. “For luck,” was all she said. She cast one final, small smile his way before she turned and hurried quickly out of the military wing.

BONUS!

              Rass blinked a few times at the retreating figure of the Jedi, trying his best to not focus on the sway of her hips as she disappeared from view. It was becoming more difficult not to do so with every encounter they shared.

              He grit his teeth, forcing his gaze to the floor. Aeseca was a Jedi, an honorable warrior. Objectifying her that way felt wrong, and deeply offensive somehow. He knew their Order was very clear about not forming those sorts of attachments.

              And yet there was a strange, warm sensation on his cheek where her lips had touched only too briefly moments ago. It was already starting to fade. He found himself wishing it wouldn’t.

              “Rass,” Jekiah’s voice was closer now. His elder brother’s boots had come into view in front of him and Rass looked up, quickly erasing the lingering shock on his face.

              “Okay, Jek. I’m ready. What is it you needed to yell at me about?” He asked.

              Jekiah’s face was unreadable. His arms were still crossed over his chest like an impenetrable wall. It was the stance he usually took when he was about to talk about something he would brook no argument about.

              “It’s about you and that Jedi…”

[rphelperblog]

American Royals Quote Rp Meme

Book by Katharine Mcgee- feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes

“Who said anything about forgetting? The point of forgiveness is to recognize that someone has hurt you, and to still love them in spite of it.”

“Tell no one your secrets but make them think that you have. It creates the illusion of intimacy.” 

“Relationships never make sense from the outside; the only people qualified to weigh in on them are the people in them.” 

“Sorry isn't a magic eraser that undoes whatever wrong thing you did! You can't just say sorry and expect everything to be the way it was, not when people have been hurt!” 

“The only people free from censure are people who’ve never taken a stand.” 

“I think you're too clever for your own good” 

“Everything seemed to go luscious, and slow, and still.” 

“Despite how progressive America claimed to be, there was still a sexist double standard quietly underpinning everything.” 

“Only you would daydream about a library meet-cute.” 

“I wish I had someone I could turn to for guidance. But all I can do is pray.” 

“I’m a commoner.”

“It was so much easier to break an arm than to break your heart. Hearts didn’t heal themselves. Hearts didn’t remake themselves stronger than before.” 

“Only by engaging with the past can we avoid repeating it.” 

“Yes, exactly, because you’re a woman, and the world will make everything exponentially more difficult for you. It isn’t right, or fair, but it is the truth.” 

"It kills me that I don't have more to offer you,"

“Real love comes from creating a family together, from facing life together -- with all its messes and surprises and joys.” 

“Writers got to pick the endings of their novels, but she wasn’t living a story. She was living history, and history went on forever.” 

"I have no lands, no fortune, no title. All I can give you is my honor, and my heart. Which already belongs to you."

"I'm sorry it isn't a real ring, but I'm improvising here."

“That was the thing about success, it could be even more draining than failure.” 

That was the only word for it: known. Not hoped to marry, or dreamed of marrying, or even felt destined to marry. Those words involved an element of chance, of uncertainty.” 

“to the people, go out begging for votes—that could only end in disaster. That structure would attract the wrong sort of people: power-hungry people with twisted agendas.” 

“It feels like half my internal monologue has suddenly switched off.”

“I came in here to seduce you,“and then I cried all over you instead.”

“You’re going to be an amazing first queen. If this was a world where people could, I don’t know, vote for their monarch, I know that America would still pick you. I would pick you.”

“a good queen learns from her mistakes, but a great one learns from the mistakes of others.” 

“There was something too immediate about her face, the way all her emotions played themselves out over her features like the shadows of clouds on water.”

“Coatroom, five minutes”

“All I’ve ever done for America is give and give and give, and still America wants more! When will it ever be enough?” 

“woman. Or maybe it would have been better if America had never been a monarchy at all, and had some other form of government.” 

criticism is a good thing. It means you've fought for something.” 

Our nation’s history is woven from their errors in judgment, their wrong decisions, as much as it is from their achievements.” 

“All I know is that when I need to eat my feelings, my feelings taste like Wawa milkshakes with extra M&Ms.” 

She, too, was bound by a sacred oath.” 

“There was a nebulous, infectious energy to her, as if she were somehow more *alive* than everyone else. As if all her nerves were sparking at once, just below the surface.” 

“Say you want to make things right, to build a better future. But erasing the past—or worse, trying to rewrite it—is the tool of despots. Only by engaging with the past can we avoid repeating it.”

Just because she'd been brought up to keep her emotions hidden didn't mean that she never experienced those emotions.” 

They were being reckless and foolish; they were tempting fate; they were breaking the rules; they were falling in love.But they both knew that last wasn't true. They had already fallen in love, a long time ago.” 

“I’m America’s Sweetheart,” 

“She hated resorting to this—planting deliberate, self-promotional stories—but she wasn’t sure what else to do.” 

She had long ago resolved that if she couldn't be beautiful, she should at the very least be interesting.” 

“This was how a kiss was supposed to feel—electric and pulsing and smoky all at once, like you'd discovered a new source of fuel that could warm you from within.”

“They were living fragments of history. Each time she put one on, Sam felt the ghosts of her ancestors whispering to her across the fabric of centuries. The rings made her feel more confident, even majestic.” 

“But sometimes—when newspapers accused her of “getting emotional,” whatever that meant, or when the media spent more time critiquing her outfits than her policies—she wished she could act with a little less grace and a little more aggression.”

“I expect you to give her your support when she's earned it and your criticism when she deserves it. That's what siblings are for, after all.” 

“All she knew was that one day she woke up and her love for him was simply there, like newly fallen snow. Maybe it had been there all along.”

she had been trained to smile through anything.Even through her own heartbreak.” 

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader 

Chapter 4 - Bound by Fate 

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

Summary: You travel to US to meet The Protagonist. There you learn that you have much bigger part to play than expected...

Warnings: None.

Author’s Notes: 4k, ladies and gentlemen! Sorry! Thank you for all the kind words and as usual welcome all the feedback. Enjoy!

When Neil said that he intended to jump on the plane to the US soon he meant it. Friday afternoon you found yourself aboard an 8-hour-long flight to Boston with seats in business class. While going to see the Tenet’s founder in person was bound to be a good excuse for missing the training, you did worry about being behind. As soon as the plane has reached cruising altitude, you took out the notes with serious intent to focus on them. You also wanted to avoid sharing an awkward silence with Neil. But it was not meant to be.

“Are you going to study now?” he asked, peering incredulously over your shoulder. 

“And why shouldn’t I? Got eight hours to spare” you sent him a glare and looked back at the pages.

“Well we could always talk…” he spoke up after a brief silence and you eyed him suspiciously.

That was tempting, you had to admit. You have barely spoken to each other since the day he came back, except for the conversations about the details of the trip. Yet after everything that happened you were grateful for that. But now, with stress about the upcoming meeting rising exponentially and tiredness gnawing at your brain, maybe it was time to change it. Before you could answer, you were interrupted by the smiley stewardess passing through:

“Drinks? Snacks?”

You immediately turned to Neil, glaring at him with a clear message: don’t you dare. But he only smirked at you and answered the flight attendant:

“Vodka tonic and whiskey coke. Thanks” your murderous frown had no effect on him.

You resorted to staring at the little flight map on your screen until the drinks have been served. Once the stewardess has moved along you went back to shooting daggers at Neil:

“What? Are you not a whiskey coke kind of person?” he asked with that innocent smile.

“I am” you admitted, and he grinned in response “But are we even allowed to drink on the job?”

“Technically we’re not on the job. Yet” he took a sip of the drink nonchalantly and you took the liberty to observe him.

Once again he has ditched the suit jacket and wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. You had to admit that it did look good on him. His hair was in perfect state of dishevelment and you briefly considered brushing it away from his eyes. But his intense stare stopped any intent you could have had. 

“I never asked how you’re settling in” he spoke after a beat, looking at you with genuine interest.

“Well it’s not your fault I decided to get a whiplash that day” you joked and enjoyed the laugh it prompted “I’m managing. Like I said at the party, it’s difficult to understand and inversion is tricky but it’s so fascinating” the sparks in his eyes urged you to continue “When I finished uni I never thought I could have a chance to work for an organisation like Tenet. The best I wished for was the UK Government” you grimaced at the idea “Still no clue what the nuclear fission is though” you added and reached for the drink.

“The offer to help with physics still stands you know” Neil was looking at you with a gleam in his eye.

“And I’ll surely consider it” you winked, feeling glad you’ve ditched those notes.

“What’s your favourite part of the training?” he has turned in his seat so that he was facing you.

“Probably guns”

“Good choice” he sent you an impressed smirk.

“Well maybe not the inverted rounds, but all the different types of arms and artillery are fun to play with” you elaborated with a gleeful enthusiasm.

Neil smiled at the sight.

“My sources tell me your good at shooting too” he added after a short break, eyeing you with interest.

“I’m not a rookie” you shrugged “And apparently have a good eye as well” you held his gaze, feeling a boost of courage “Maybe one day I’ll show you”

Neil stared back at you with a slight shock on his face. He recovered quick enough to retort:

“Can’t wait” he smirked, and you looked down suddenly aware of what you said.

Can always blame it on the alcohol, you thought while staring at your lap. But before you could overthink it, Neil reached out and tipped your chin so that you met his gaze. He was smiling at you, but this time it was not a cocky grin. He searched your eyes for a short moment, making sure you were fine before dropping away his hand. You stared back puzzled, but before you could think about it too long, he asked:

“So it’s fair to assume that you don’t hate me for introducing you to this madness?”

“Could never” you laughed, and he grinned back “Even though I must admit I became quite a loner because of it. It’s hard to have friends when you train at a secret spy agency”

“There’s always me” he shrugged.

“I can’t say I know you” you replied truthfully and took a moment to stare at his face.

He nodded, accepting your statement and then smirked. You watched, wide-eyed, as he undid the top button on his shirt and leaned into the seat. If he noticed your silent panic, he did not show it.

“What do you want to know?” there was something almost challenging in his gaze.

You took a moment to recover before thinking hard about what to ask. You knew that this was potentially a one-off chance to learn something about him.

“How long have you been doing this?” you gestured vaguely.

Neil frowned, thinking hard and you focused on the face he made.

“Four years, I think” he ruffled his hair again “Thinking in linear terms is difficult after all those inversions” he added with a little smile “I’ve been recruited by the TP while still at my old job”

“What were you doing before?” 

“I’ve been in the Navy” you stared at him surprised “Turns out they are willing to take in lost Physics students”.

He noticed your dazed look and grinned:

“What? You thought I was an ex-MI6 agent or something?” he cocked his eyebrow. 

“Well you could definitely be a James Bond” you muttered and ignored the smug smile you got in return.

“I met TP one day while on the field mission in Asia and we cooperated very well so at the end he asked me to join Tenet. Naturally I said yes” he explained, and you nodded “You don’t turn away an offer like that. You know that best” you exchanged a smile “Has that satisfied your curiosity?” he finished the drink and turned to look at you expectantly.

“A bit” you admitted.

Before you could say anything more you yawned widely and then looked at Neil sheepishly.

“Shit, sorry. Swear am not that tired” 

He laughed, looking at you softly:

“Maybe my life story was that boring”

“Certainly not” another yawn and you covered your face with your hands.

“You can sleep, we still have six hours to go” he reassured you.

You felt very tired. All those hours of training and the stress made you feel worn out. So you decided to give in, letting your head lean on the headrest and reclined the back of the seat. 

“Wake me up for food” you joked and closed your eyes, feeling Neil chuckle next to you.

Slowly you felt yourself drift off to sleep, hoping your dreams won’t make you regret the decision when you wake up.

*** First thing you noticed after waking up was that you no longer had the leather head rest acting as your pillow. Instead it was something warmer and firmer. You could smell intense cologne and that revelation made your eyes widen. Somehow in the sleep you have moved so that your head was resting on Neil’s shoulder. And judging by his small smirk he was fully aware of that and did nothing. Quickly you straightened and looked at him shyly. He grinned and said:

“Don’t worry, they haven’t served the food yet”

“Great” you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

You opened the notes again and forced your brain to focus on the nuclear fission. You felt Neil’s gaze on you and fought hard to ignore it.  

God, this is going to be a long journey…

*** You managed to avoid further humiliation by focusing on studying during the rest of the flight. Neil has even contributed with a couple of explanations. Hearing him talk about the atoms and electrons with passion made you want to ask him about the topic again. 

Once you landed in Boston, he practically dragged you through the customs and the arrivals hall. You stopped outside by the taxi stop and you finally caught your breath:

“We’re getting a taxi?” you looked sceptically at the forming queue.

Neil finished typing a message and glanced at you:

“Do you think we’re on a budget cut?” you laughed at his affronted expression.

“Judging by your suit…” you eyed him quickly “Most certainly not”

“You like my suits?” the hint of the sly grin started to form on his lips.

You were saved from answering by a black Tesla stopping in front of you. Neil opened the door and gestured for you to get in. 

“Got to admit that this organisation has a good taste in cars” you noticed.

“Maybe one day you’ll get one those” Neil winked, and you grinned back.

You watched through the window as the the city sights passed by, curious about Boston. You were headed to the outskirts of the city, judging by the signs on the highway. After a short silence, you asked Neil:

“So… the Protagonist. What is he like?”

“He’s...” he took a moment to think and you observed him with interest “Fun” his face lit up “Charismatic. And very mysterious but not in an intimidating kind of way”

“You’re close with him?”

You liked the happy smile that showed on his face.

“You could say so. When he hired me, Tenet was only starting out and it was mostly us two on the missions” he recollected with fond look “These days he rarely goes into the field but if he does, it’s usually with me”

“A dream team” you grinned, and he chuckled.

Suddenly the car stopped, and you looked through the window at the building exactly in front.

“Welcome to the Tenet Headquarters” Neil grinned at you widely as he opened the door.

You got out of the car and stared at the tall glass building with a large parking area and a tall fence. Following Neil, you showed your ID to the security camera and walked through the sliding door. Interior was very like what you were used to in London, but more modern. As soon as you entered, a tall man in a suit approached you:

“Welcome back Neil!” they exchanged a handshake “And it’s nice to meet you” he turned to you and you accepted his hand “I’m Richard”.

“Y/N” you smiled.

“TP wants to see you now” Richard spoke to Neil “And he’ll talk to you both later during dinner” he explained.

“That’s good news as you can continue that nap” Neil glanced at you and you glared.

“Very funny” you muttered and chose to ignore the curious look Richard gave you both.

“I’ll show you your room now” the agent broke the awkward silence.

“Okay” you moved to follow him with your duffel bag thrown over the shoulder.

As you passed Neil, he swiftly squeezed your hand and then disappeared into on the side corridors. You briefly wondered why that became a goodbye gesture between you.

Not that you did mind.

*** You never got to have that nap. While the room Richard lead you to was very like what you were used to in London, your brain was too hyperactive to let you rest. Every time you shut your eyes, you kept thinking about the upcoming meeting and all the what ifs. Finally you gave up with thirty minutes left till the dinner and got ready. When Neil knocked on your door, you leaped out of the room, fuelled by anxiety.

“Everything alright?” he asked once he saw your wild gaze.

“Yeah, I’m just scared, that’s all” you admitted and looked at him pleadingly “Can we please get going before I change my mind?”

He eyed you carefully, making sure you were indeed ‘okay’ before pointing the direction of TP’s quarters.

“There’s no reason to be scared” Neil said after few minutes of tense silence “He’s probably the nicest person here” he looked at you with a reassuring smile.

“Nicer than you?” you looked at him sceptically.

Being this anxious meant that you no longer cared much about what you said. In this case your voiced thought was awarded with a sly grin from Neil.

“Oh you think I’m nice?” he winked, and you laughed despite the tension.

“I’m not so sure anymore…” you sent him a fake glare.

“You can think about it again after the meeting” he replied and gestured towards the door to your left “Here we are”.

You stared at the door, fighting the fleeing instinct. As though Neil knew you can run away any second, he took your hand in his and knocked on the door. Approximately five seconds later the door opened to reveal a smiling man in a suit. He exchanged a happy grin with Neil and then looked at you with interest. When his eyes darted to your linked hands, you felt your face heat up and was surprised to see him smirk knowingly. Before you could overthink it, TP broke the silence:

“Come on in” he smiled at you.

You had the strange feeling that he was looking at someone he knew very well. You ignored the spike of anxiety, let go of Neil’s hand and followed the Protagonist. His quarters had a separate private bedroom, a briefing room and a living area with a large table, set for dinner. When you all sat down, Tenet’s founder addressed you:

“First of all, I want to say I’m excited to finally meet you” he smiled at you warmly and you beamed back.

“Didn’t know I’m that important” you admitted and was surprised to him amused “But I’m glad I can be here”

“You probably have a lot of questions” you just nodded “But I thought it’s best we eat first. Is that okay?”

“Sure”

Once the food has been served by the cooks from the mess hall, the conversation has changed onto more mundane topics.

“So, what were you doing before Tenet?” the Protagonist asked you.

“I actually finished university not that long ago” you answered “I graduated two years ago and since then only did some part time jobs” 

Neil was looking at you across the table with a surprised expression. You tried to search his face for answers, but he schooled his features before you came to any conclusions. After conversations about your past and how you were getting on with the training, you have all cleared the plates. Neil and the Protagonist exchanged a mysterious look before the second one spoke:

“As you know by now from your training, I have knowledge about things that haven’t happened yet…” he started, almost tentatively.

“You mean that you came from the future? To set up Tenet?” you blurted out and got met with slightly worried looks “Because that’s what everyone says among the recruits” you explained, shrugging.

When you first heard this rumour passed around by the younger agents you did not pay it much attention. But after seeing more of what Tenet was capable of you were not so sure anymore. Looking at Neil and TP right now, you knew that all the stories were true.

“That’s probably a more straightforward way of putting it” the Protagonist joked “I’ve founded Tenet to prevent world ending catastrophes involving the technology of inversion. That’s the part you already know. There’s another reason why the organisation has been founded though”

You stared as he purposefully made a dramatic pause. Glancing at Neil, you noticed that he was studying you with a rather serious expression. You got the feeling that what was about to be said, was not common knowledge.

“In the future there will be an attempt an attempt to reverse the entropy of the whole world” your eyes widened in shock.

Even with your poor grasp of physics it sounded like a catastrophe.

“For this purpose something called The Algorithm will be created and constructed. It’s a formula in a physical form, broken into nine parts so that it is not so easily found and assembled. But now the different parts of it are beginning to resurface in this timeline. Our job is to stop it from being used in the recent future” the Protagonist explained, as though he was repeating a manual for the hob.

You felt the panic rise again. All this information was too much to take in.

“What does it have to do with me?” you asked, unable to wait much longer.

The serious look in Neil’s eyes did not help you either.

“TP thinks you have a part to play in stopping the Algorithm from being used” he explained while looking at you almost apologetically “So he’s sending us on a mission to investigate some intel on one of the parts being a subject of trade in New York”

“But why me?” you frowned.

It didn’t make any sense.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that” the Protagonist apologised with a sad smile “It wouldn’t do you any good to know this early”

You looked at Neil, hoping to find some answers. But he seemed as lost as you were. You had a feeling that only TP knew the full story and he decided who was to be let in on it.

“You will leave on the mission in two days. Until then you can prepare here, and I’ll brief you both tomorrow” he added, and you could only nod “Finally, the last thing you need to know is that everything that was said today is between us three. Is that alright?”

“Of course” you got up, desperately wanting to get some rest “Neil is the only person I talk to anyway” you shrugged and received a knowing glance from TP again.

What even…

“Sorry, I’m very tired. Is it alright if we come back to it tomorrow?” you asked, suppressing a yawn.

“Yeah sure, you need a rest” TP patted your arm reassuringly “No need to be worried though, you’ll have Neil with you. And I know he’ll take care of you” there was something way too certain in his voice.

You looked at Neil, but he pretended to study a dossier, with tension radiating from his form. You wanted answers but could not even voice the questions.

*** After the meeting finished, you both left TP’s quarters in silence. You were scared and dreamt of nothing but locking yourself away in your room. But Neil had other ideas. As soon as he stepped out into the corridor, he took your hand in his and started leading you with purpose in his stride. You didn’t even protest. At this point you resorted to following him without questions.

He lead you to the staircase and then upstairs, to what was indicated as an evacuation route. You tried to search his face for any clues, but it was pointless. Finally he stopped in front of heavy metal doors at the top of the stairwell and opened it for you. You stepped into an expansive terrace overlooking the city and the neighbouring areas, with the stairs to the helicopter pad. The night has fallen on Boston and the view was illuminated with thousands of lights. You took in the sight with parted lips, not expecting to see anything like that on this dramatic night. Neil was leaning on the railing, looking at you with a small smile:

“Do you show this place to all the girls?” you asked him, while slowly approaching the balustrade.

“What girls?” he looked genuinely confused and you laughed at the face he made.

“Oh you know, like Anna…” you gestured vaguely at the lines of women that were waiting on his every word.

“What? No!” he finally caught on what you were asking and scrunched his face in offence “Anna is cute but she’s not… no”

What was he trying to say? But he turned towards the view and clenched his jaw. You stared at him for a while before resigning to look at the cityscape as well. Every now and then you would steal a glance at Neil, only to see him staring into the darkness. This was not what you were used to from him. When the tense silence dragged on for too long, you decided to act.

“Neil is everything alright?” you stepped closer to him “You’re awfully quiet” you noticed.

He turned his head to look at you with a small smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You miss my voice already?”

“Stop it” impulsively you reached out and touched his hand that was clutching the railing.

He looked up at you with a slight surprise. Now that you made the move, you felt less scared. You gently rubbed a thumb over his hand and tried again:

“What’s wrong? Because if it’s my poor jokes about Anna and stuff, then sorry-”

“No” he cut you off with a smile “It’s not you. It’s just that all this talk about The Algorithm and world ending… it’s a lot sometimes” you nodded “And today when TP told me that you’ve got a role to play in it too…” he inhaled sharply “I…”

You looked at him intrigued and worried at the same time. You were not used to Neil speaking in broken sentences.

“What?” you prodded, letting your hand trace an invisible line up his forearm.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression before relaxing his hold on the balustrade. You were surprised to see that there were goosebumps on his arm where you have touched it.

“I hoped that you won’t have to be involved in this” he sighed “Maybe it’s foolish for someone who’s worked at Tenet for four years, but I wanted you to be safe from all this Algorithm related bullshit” he met your gaze with defeat.

You stared back at him, confused.

“Why?” your voice came out quiet and hoarse.

He shrugged helplessly, with an expression of sadness in his eyes. That alone made you forego any sense of awkwardness or fear. You closed the gap between you, embracing him tightly. After a second of hesitation you felt him return the embrace. He exhaled shakily and you allowed yourself to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Your heart was hammering in your chest, finally catching up with what was happening. Inhaling his scent, you forced yourself to calm down. You felt his hand caress the nape of you neck, making all the thoughts disappear from your head. You were frozen in place for what felt like hours before Neil relaxed his grip and took a step back. You met his gaze with an unspoken question and he just nodded, composing himself. Then he studied your face for a beat, before finally breaking the silence:

“I’m sorry”

You knew he meant everything by that: the news, the plan, his outburst.

“It’s okay” you smiled at him reassuringly and placed you hand on his shoulder “Happens to the best of us” you smoothed his wrinkled shirt collar.

He stared at you with astonishment that made your face heat up. Then he smiled and nodded his head in the direction of the exit from the terrace:

“Want to call it a night?” he asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Sure” you smiled back and followed him back to the stairwell.

Somehow this night felt important. And not just because of what you learned.

[bots-basket]

Safety in numbers #4

{ This chapter is kinda long- 030 }

Balan been searching around the entire theatre for the little visitor after he had sent those gentlemen on their way. But so far he had no such luck. Where could have she gone? The only place he hadn't looked was in the wonderworld.. but she shouldn't have been able to enter it without his permission. Still- He should at least head to the Bout tunnels and look anyways. When he first approached the hidden tunnel opening- he realized it wasn't too hidden. Somehow the whole doorway was wide open! Practically anyone could get into it now! This riled up much concern with the magical maestro as he headed into the Bout portal, now a little more desperate to find the missing child. Judging by the way she acted before, She Was in no way ready for wonderworld just yet.. Not even close. But finding her would prove to be much more difficult than Balan realized.

After closing the bout tunnel behind him, he began to travel in-between the different mindscapes connected to the wonderworld- hoping to reach the isle of tims. Since She probably couldn't enter any of the mindscapes by herself, she should have been sent to the isle of tims... At least that's what he predicted. But then again, she did enter the wonderworld by herself.. so whos to say she couldn't enter the mindscapes aswell? That's when something Odd started to happen. Passing through the bout tunnel in Jose's mindscape- the colors had begun to fade into a gloomy purplish color- and it was much darker than it used to be inside. Wait.. what's happened? the colors faintly remind him of Lance's- But it didn't make sense for Lance to bother with the bout tunnels considering how he uses them to travel aswell. What reason would he mess with them now? Either way, If Balan's guard wasn't up- it definitely was up now. At the exit of the bout tunnel, The usual entryway was blocked off. but unlike usual it was blocked off COMPLTELY by strange black crystals. Despite the eerie atmosphere of the bout tunnel Balan didn't pay the entryway much nevermind, assuming that this was all in-fact a Lance 'prank' Afterall. He focusing his power- he conjured up and Energy Ball and threw it at the entryway like how he'd usually do to get past Lance's barriers.. Except the unusual happened. The barrier didn't break- It didn't even scratch. Balan raised an eye ride before attempting it again, but a little more powerful this time. He got the exact same results. Before he could attempt a third Blast however, That's when things got exponentially worse for him.

!?

Suddenly More Black Crystals Shot up from the sides of the bout tunnel- along with some from the main crystal as they headed straight for Balan. Although slightly startled by the development he bobbed and weaved out of the way of the advancing crystals. Had he.. Angered it?! how is this even possible?! Either way it's going to be troublesome getting out of this tunnel.. ----- Meanwhile -----

Lance had arrived at the scene from once the purple smoke had originated. The area had been disturbed by multiple people as there was many footprints in the dirt- but other than that there was nothing else out of the ordinary. Nothing broken, nothing missing. He Created a few extra Negati to examine everything a little more closely as he oversaw the operation. But the real reason he didn't look himself was because his mind was too preoccupied.. How did he not sense this many people enter the mindscape? It would be one thing if just one person slipped through his fingers- but a whole group? First that girl, and now whoever left these footprints. Something about that just doesn't add up. A Hissing squad of Negati brought him out of his thoughts. They had all collectively circled around something on the ground. They were hissing at it but made no attempt to get close to it.

Lance floated down and walked over to get a closer look at the object that was making them so upset. gently picking it up with one of his hair tentacles, he saw that it was some sort of tiny capsule. there was a little bit of purple power inside, but it was too small to do anything. Yet it was still upsetting the Negati to the point where they hissed at their master when he went to touch the power with his dainty fingers. apparently whatever this was.. it was dangerous. He should keep hold of this just incase. He dropped the capsule into one of his mini negtai portals, and his Negtai calmed down once it was gone. There was no sign of a weapon that made that Bang sound earlier- so Lance deduced that whoever was here before had taken it with them. At least most of the excitement was over.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" !!

The Sound of the girl's scream rang throughout the mindscape as the Negati master made no Haste to head towards the sound As quickly as possible. For some strange reason he couldn't access a bout tunnel.. so he had to make it there on his own accord... He just hoped he wasn't too late.

------- Rosie nearly fell over from shock as a Gigantic Wolf creature was staring down at her with a menacing look in its eyes. The Negati that were once chasing her had tried to defend the child, but were easily swatted away and dispersed back to their realm by the wolf... Leaving Rosie alone to fend for herself. Rosie actually liked dogs, but something about this one in particular really rattled her.. especially with it's pure purple eyes Staring down at her with obvious malicious intent.. Oh if only she hadn't accidently run into it- But with whatever those little black floaty things chasing her, Of course she wasn't paying attention! Rosie frantically glanced around for any means of escape as The Wolf Crept closer to her bearing it's toothy fangs. Looks like the only was out was back from once she came.. With her hands gripping onto the glowing mindcores in her hoodie pockets, She made a break for it. The wolf didn't hesitate to give chase as she tried to return to the road. But that wasn't meant to be as the edges of the ground broke off and separated! Now Rosie and the beast were ontop of some sort of floating island- Making her absolutely trapped with the creature. Taking advantage of the girl's discombobulation from the ascent into the air- The Wolf jumped infront of her, Knocking her over with the sheer force of the landing. The Little mindcores in her pockets tumbled out from the fall and laid right before the trembling child.. too tired and frightened to move and grab them. The sight of the looming figure of the wolf kept her stuck in place..

Lance had just made it over to where they were when he saw the scene before him. What was going on!? He immediately raised his arm to form an engery link- commanding the mindscaper to cease their attacks- but something was wrong. He.. He couldn't get through to them!? No matter how hard he tried, the Negati master couldn't reach or hear the Mindscaper, let alone command them. He couldn't stop him.

The Wolf gave a Loud toothy Snarl as it stood over the girl and the little glowing orbs, Each pulsing a brighter glow as every second passed.. The girl shut her eyes tightly as she knew what was going to happen next.. "NO!" Lance desperately called as he Dove towards the two, sending his hair tentacles to attempt to pull the girl out of the way of the out-of control hound. No- no no no no NO!

He wouldn't make it in time-! ..... ..... .....

Suddenly Lance felt a bit of his power leave him that very moment...

As if like clockwork, A Bright Flash soon covered the entire area for a split second, And then the next thing to be seen was the Wolf monster slamming into the ground away from the child.

As Lance turned to see what could've been responsible for sending the wolf flying.. He saw a Large pantherlike being rivaling the size of the wolf itself standing over Rosie in a protective manner.

It was completely made out of energy.. and had a galaxy aesthetic to it.. except that it was completely light green aside from some purple embroidery highlights that looked similar to that of Lance himself. But the most defining feature, was the mindcore in it's chest, now glowing a steady green color a little darker than it's entire body.

" .... Bass..?"

Rosie looked up to the feline and quietly whispered his name.. before she completely passed out.

The Energy Feline's eyes softened a little as it looked down to the girl, before completely doing a 180 and becoming silted When he turned to the wolf getting back up. His fur stood on end as it hissed at the wolf with great passion..

Looks like there's gonna be a fight.

[solalunar-eclipse]

Team Dark: A Holiday Special

Chapter Two: Shadow

One | Three

Word count: about 6500 words

No warnings, just more angst than last time because Shadow.

Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for the great comments you left on chapter one- it’s really what keeps me writing and posting.

In other news, I believe that Hanukkah started yesterday evening, so to anyone who celebrates that holiday, Happy Hanukkah!

...

It was the dawn of a bright new day, and Shadow stirred as the sun rose, feeling oddly content. His bed was warm, and he was comfortable, and he really didn’t want to get up just yet. Fumbling around on the bedside table for his book, he began to feel even better at the thought of hiding under the covers for another hour or two, curled up reading…

Except his book wasn’t there. He made several quiet irritated noises, before forcing himself to sit upright.

Chaos, he was not a morning person.

This was incredibly frustrating, of course, since he only needed about five hours of sleep a night and tended to wake up early. Coffee beans usually helped with that, though, and some hot water. 

His thoughts now focused on coffee, Shadow dragged himself slowly out of bed, shuddering as the cold air hit his fur. He searched through the clothes he’d brought and pulled out a warm, soft sweater, sighing with relief as he put it on. It was his favorite, too, since it matched his stripes nicely. 

Sliding on a pair of slippers (plaid, fluffy, chosen by Rouge) he padded downstairs silently, eyes scanning the area for his book- and caffeine. He wandered through the main hall, enjoying the view that the large windows provided of the snowy landscape. Still, he wished they’d turn the heating up a little, shuddering as he wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

As he walked into the kitchen, still half-lost in a morning haze, Shadow was fully awakened by the shock of seeing other people up. More specifically, Rouge’s mother and stepmother were cooking. Already. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from shouting, and his quills bristled in surprise. 

His friend’s mother startled and dropped the flour she was carrying, while her stepmother yelped and fumbled with the frying pan on the stove. Shadow rushed over and caught the dropped bag before it could explode, his nerves feeling slightly shot from having to deal with so much this early on.

“My bad,” he whispered, placing the flour on the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I didn’t know anyone else was awake yet- sorry.” he finished lamely. The hedgehog began to feel slightly uncomfortable, as both of the other occupants of the kitchen were looking directly at him. Until now, he’d managed to avoid everyone’s notice pretty well at this party, fading quietly into the background after that first introduction. 

He was not prepared to socialize, especially not this early.

Camellia just smiled at him, though, and said kindly, “It’s perfectly alright, honey, we didn’t realize anyone else could stand to get up so early either!”

Rouge’s mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Shadow as she walked past him. “You say that like I like mornings, Cam.” she quipped.

He felt awkward just standing in the middle of the room- especially having interrupted their formerly-private moment- so he took a couple of steps to the side quietly. “I’ll just be out of your way now…”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it at all!” the bat exclaimed. “Were you looking for something, sugar?”

Having two terms of endearment directed his way in as many minutes stressed (and slightly flustered) Shadow, and he found himself beginning to retreat into his usual cold persona. The hybrid muttered, “I was just looking for my book. If you happened to know where the coffee is, that would help. That’s all.”

The cardinal handed him a bag of coffee beans, still smiling warmly. “And I think your book’s over there, honey.”

Shadow took his book and turned to walk out of the room, nodding a quiet ‘thank you’ as he did so.

However...the second he set a foot outside the kitchen doorway, he froze. Looking back over his shoulder, he asked, “...how much more do you have to do?”

It would be downright rude to leave his hosts doing all the work, wouldn’t it?

...and why did that sentence sound like someone else had said it?

“Oh! Well, we have the eggs, and the waffles, and the…” the bat began to rattle off a long list of the different things they had to make. “But don’t worry about us, dear, you have your book to read!”

He wavered a moment longer in the doorway, before reluctantly putting the book down. Walking back to stand in front of them, he sighed. “Where are the aprons, then?” he asked flatly.

“Are you sure, honey?” Camellia asked. “You really needn’t trouble yourself…”

Shadow raised a brow ever so slightly. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet!” Rouge’s mother gasped. “We usually get help a little later on, but if you really want to…”

“I have a little experience with cooking, but not much.” he warned, taking the apron she offered him and putting it on. (This was true. He only knew how to make waffles and French toast, and that was just because Rouge decided she would go without breakfast if she had to cook.)

The cheerful cardinal pulled him over to the counter, making Shadow startle slightly. “Have you ever made hash browns before, honey? Those shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“No…?” he said, a little confused. “I...I’ve never had those before. What are they?”

“What?” Lila cried out, on the other side of the room. “What has Rouge been feeding you? Well, it’s about time you learned then.” She moved over to stand next to Shadow, handing him a bag of potatoes.

The hedgehog just stared at the vegetables, his mind going blank.

He needed to have his coffee before he dealt with this. Now.

…

Two hours and several handfuls of coffee beans later, Shadow could say that he absolutely knew what hash browns were, having produced enough of them to feed an army. He had also made veritable mountains of scrambled eggs and stacks of pancakes, all while asking ‘Are you sure we need this many?’. He’d thought that the dinner spread was incredible last night, but seeing everything as it was being made only served to emphasize just how much food everyone here needed.

A few other family members had shown up near the end to help out Rouge’s parents, but the real flow of people was only just beginning. Young children were now rushing down the stairs, lured by the smell of breakfast. A few adults began to come down as well, along with Rouge and Omega.

The younger bat looked a little surprised to see Shadow in the kitchen, and he internally cringed as he realized just how bad he must look right now. His quills were tied back in a sloppy ponytail and the apron he’d been given was more than a little long on him. It wasn’t long enough to conceal his slippers, though, and his sweater was rolled up past his elbows, while his arms were covered in flour, sugar, and even a little bit of oil.

“Aww, hon! You’ve been helping!” she said, batting her eyelashes in a blatantly over-the-top manner. She was clearly fighting the urge to laugh at his appearance.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

Rouge’s mother bustled up at that, smiling warmly at him. Shadow became significantly more uncomfortable- he was used to having glowers and wide-eyed stares directed at him, not...that.

“He just walked over and demanded an apron, then he got right to work!” she said cheerfully. “He’s really quite helpful, honestly!”

Omega looked at the older bat. “Shadow does not like to admit that he’s helping, even when he is very clearly doing so. His pride is too great to ever admit that he’d do such a thing.”

The hybrid scowled. “That is not true.”

Rouge giggled. “Oh, it’s not, hm? Then what about the time you finished-”

“-don’t you dare-”

“-cleaning my room when I-”

“-now you know how it feels, Shadow-”

“-shut up-”

“-took a quick break, or the time when-”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Shadow roared, leaping at her. Rouge’s mother seemed quite startled at this, but Rouge started cackling just like last night, and Omega looked incredibly smug (somehow), watching as she dodged his attack.

“Just look a little sad, Mom, and maybe tell him you’d be ‘ever so grateful’ and he’ll drop everything to do iiiaaaAAAAH!!”

Shadow had managed to catch Rouge and pin her down on the couch. “Take it back.”

“Never.” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

The hybrid prepared himself to inflict some sort of punishment (messing up her makeup, perhaps, or tickling) when he was hoisted bodily and flung over a very square and very metallic shoulder.

“Umph.” he wheezed in a very undignified manner as Omega hauled him out of the room.

The robot looked very pleased with himself. “Ah yes. Revenge is truly sweet.”

...

“Alright, guys!” Rouge announced after breakfast. “It’s perfect weather out, so you know what we’re gonna do? We are going sledding.”

Shadow- who had been cleaning up and lost in thought- nearly hit the ceiling. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, hon, we’ll get you all wrapped up first.” Rouge said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The hybrid’s body immediately sagged in poorly disguised relief.

Five minutes later, Shadow wore three layers of shirts, a coat, sweatpants, snow boots, thick gloves, a hat, and a scarf. “I look like an idiot.” he growled.

“Would you prefer to be cold?” Omega asked him dryly.

Shadow shuddered at the very thought. Pulling his clothes a little tighter, he was suddenly launched back into the past, a very particular memory running through his mind.

“You ready for lessons today, Shadow?” a young, blond-haired girl asked. 

Maria.

Shadow, at the perky young age of two and two-thirds (eight mentally), leaned on the edge of her bed, smiling. “Always!”

Professor Gerald entered shortly with their lesson for the day- exponentials for Maria and multiplying fractions for Shadow- and began to teach.

As Shadow worked on his problems later, the professor’s voice going on in the background as he spoke to his granddaughter, he began to notice his fingers trembling. Weird.

The longer he worked, the more it spread, until his fur was bristling and his whole body shook occasionally. But he was the Ultimate Lifeform! He was made to be tough!

So he kept on going.

Eventually, his breath began to come short and his teeth clicked together. He accidentally dropped his pencil, his fingers trembling too much to hold it.

Maria noticed.

“Shadow, are you alright?” she asked. “Come here for a second…”

He walked over, trying to keep his legs from shaking and failing miserably. She reached out to touch his arm, but gasped as soon as she felt his fur.

“Maria!” he cried out, worried. “Maria, what’s wrong?”

“You’re freezing, Shadow! Come here…”

She pulled him onto the bed next to her, the warm quilt on it keeping her from struggling as Shadow had.

He let out an involuntary sigh as warmth began to flood his body, melting away the shudders and allowing his breathing to return to normal.

“Strange…” the professor had said, after getting Shadow a warm jacket to wear. “This was unexpected- I didn’t think it was so cold! I know the temperature on the space station is meant to simulate wintertime inside on Earth, but it’s only an indoor climate.” He’d later discovered that Shadow’s DNA predisposed him to get cold easily.

Or as Rouge put it: “You’re half lizard, hon. I’m honestly surprised you don’t spend all day lying on hot rocks when it’s cold.”

That event had led to a lifelong hatred of Space Colony ARK’s air conditioning (and several heated glares at the ventilation system for Maria’s benefit).

And then…

Shadow remembered what it felt like to have ice cover his body. When he’d woken up from his frozen sleep, he’d been filled with a chill he just couldn’t shake.

He’d been able to ignore it in his quest for revenge, but from then until he finally went Super, he had struggled to become warm, even in the tropical heat of the jungle. A cold sensation had settled in his very bones.

But now, he no longer felt frozen inside, and the cold was just an irritation, albeit a slightly more emotionally charged one.

Wasn’t everything.

Rouge and Omega had both been incredibly understanding, though. The bat had never made him go outside when it was cold, and she often dumped armfuls of blankets on him at random moments. (He appreciated it more than he let on.) The E-series robot was more subtle in his support, doing things like handing Shadow an extra scarf before he left their house or silently placing a mug of hot chocolate next to him when he shivered.

And now, they were standing in front of him, having packed all of these clothes for his benefit.

Somehow, Shadow couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

“No,” he sighed, “I suppose I don’t.”

“Alright, guys, let’s go!” Rouge practically dragged them out the door, pushing Shadow up onto Omega’s shoulders and then flying up to grab his hands once they were outside.

“I will never comprehend how such a small being has the power to lift both myself and Shadow.” Omega commented as they took off.

“Lots of practice- hff- and weight training- hh- does the trick.” Rouge gasped, evidently straining to keep them in the air. “I’m- ngh- out of practice.”

“It’s fine, Rouge.” Shadow said, his voice muffled by the scarf. “Take your time.”

Eventually, they made it to a giant hill with an incredibly steep slope. As they trudged up to the top, the (relatively) small hedgehog began to notice just how very angled and high the incline was...

Shadow regretted everything. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Rouge?” he asked, watching as Omega lay down on what would have been his chest to be the actual sled.

“Of course, hon! It’s going to be great!”

“Uh…” the hedgehog muttered nervously, even as he allowed Rouge to pull him onto the robot’s back. “I…”

“Alright let’s go.” Omega said quickly, firing his rocket boosters.

Rouge whooped and Shadow (to his eternal shame) screamed as they blasted down the hill at top speed, flying across a patch of ice at the bottom and skidding to a stop several yards away. Panting heavily from his adrenaline rush, Shadow fought to get his thoughts in order. “That...that was….”

“Awesome!” Rouge shouted. “We’re doing that again!”

“...alright?” Shadow agreed. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, but it was a little fun.

The next time, Rouge tried lying down and yelled the whole way- not being able to see where you were going made things a lot more scary. Omega tried carrying them up to the top of the hill as well, completely eliminating the usual grind of dragging a sled up the slope that came with this activity. Shadow got into it eventually, clearly enjoying himself despite the fact that he never quite yelled like Rouge as they careened wildly downhill.

Eventually, Rouge convinced Shadow to try lying down as well. “Don’t worry, hon, I’ll hang onto you and make sure nothing bad happens.” she reassured him.

“Okay...okay. Just make sure you hold on tight.” Shadow groaned, clinging to Omega with enough force to strain his fingers.

They blasted off down the hill and Shadow shouted in surprise- this was so much more intense! He felt every bump and jolt all the way down, but it was all fun.

Until Rouge yelled, “Omega! Tree!!”

Shadow gasped, startled. There was a tree and it was coming up-!

Omega fired his left booster, spinning them far away from the tree. Unfortunately, that meant spinning literally, as he’d majorly overcompensated for the potential collision. Whirling around in a circle, both Shadow and Rouge were thrown off. The bat managed to catch herself mid-air with her wings, but the shaken hedgehog wasn’t quite as lucky.

Shadow’s vision went completely white. For a moment, he feared he’d hit his head- but it was only snow. He sighed in relief.

That feeling didn’t last long, though, as he felt the cold begin to seep in from all sides. Panic wormed its way into his chest- and then when he tried to move, he could only push helplessly against the lightly packed material.

Calm down. It’s only snow. Rouge and Omega will be here any minute now.

He took a deep breath.

And another.

And then Omega was there, clasping his hand to pull him out of the snow, and Rouge was sitting on his shoulder, looking worried but pleased to see him alright. 

“I’m so sorry, hon, I didn’t mean for that to happen…” she said sympathetically.

“Neither did I.” Omega added, and Shadow noticed that the robot wasn’t quite looking him in the eye.

The cold was quickly banished with yet another reminder of just how much his friends cared. “It’s fine. I just…” He looked away, a little embarrassed. “I did what the therapist told me to do and just breathed, and waited for you.”

“Awww, that’s good, hon! Tolja therapy’d help somehow.” Rouge smirked at him, but it was all warmth and kindness underneath.

Shadow shuffled awkwardly in the snow. “It seems that way...I’ve decided to keep going with it, after all.”

“Excellent.” Omega said, and Shadow felt even better. “Now we should get back. Shadow appears to require the immediate application of blankets and hot cocoa.”

The snowy, slushy hedgehog was not in the mood to protest, and simply said, “Yes. Now.”

...

Two pairs of red eyes narrowed in a face-off. It had taken their owners over an hour to get to this point- the final competition. The winner of this match would be crowned champion.

About half of Rouge’s family watched, holding their breath as Shadow opened his mouth to speak.

“E-4.”

“Miss.”

“Dammit!”

Shadow didn’t care one bit who might hear him swear right now, his teeth gritted and mind racing a mile a minute. He was supposed to be good at tactics and strategy, yet here he was losing at Warboat. Badly.

Three of his ships, covered in red markers, lay slain off to one side. Meanwhile, Omega had only lost one and a half of his. Accursed computer processors.

The hedgehog was certain that Omega would have a gigantic grin on his face, if it were possible for him to produce one. As it was, he stared constantly at Shadow, even as he moved his markers around.

“C-6.”

Shadow felt relief flood his very soul. “Miss.”

It didn’t take long for Shadow’s fourth ship to get knocked out, even as he still searched for Omega’s third. He was getting trounced, and he knew it. Yet still, somehow, he had a shred of hope.

But then, two rounds later, he snarled furiously when Omega switched his LED eyes from full circles to half-moons- an evident hint at a smile.

“H-2.”

Shadow’s stomach dropped. “No!”

“Yes.” the robot said proudly, before planting a red marker on his board. 

The hedgehog began to search frantically for Omega’s ship, his moves becoming increasingly random and less thought-out as imminent destruction closed in.

Finally, something happened. “A-1.”, he muttered, resigned to his painful end.

“...hit.”

“Yessss.” Shadow hissed, somehow feeling triumph despite his imminent defeat. 

“Yay.” Rouge remarked dryly from the spectating area. “Consolation prize.”

“Shut uuup.” he whined petulantly, before realizing how very relaxed his demeanor had become. Straightening his back and smoothing down his quills, he allowed that familiar blank expression to settle back into place. “No distracting the players, please.” he added coolly.

Was it him, or was that a flash of...disappointment he caught from her?

Anyhow, he lost on the very next turn. Grumbling quietly, he went to sit down on a couch as Omega partied loudly with all of the children, blasting up-tempo dance music from his speakers.

It was one of the children (such sweet little kids, some of them were) who suggested that they make trophies. Pulling out cardboard and paper to draw on, they quickly made little certificates and gold, silver and bronze medals. One parent found some ribbon to thread through a punched-out hole, and then the little ones all scrambled to set up a proper ceremony “like on TV”.

As Shadow bent down to receive his handmade medal and crayon certificate, he knew without a doubt that this was being saved. For good.

…

Later, Shadow was relaxing in his bedroom when Rouge’s mother walked in, Omega following behind her.

“Oh, good, I’ve found you!” she said, her voice bright as always, but...off, this time. “Would you mind coming with me for a minute?”

As Shadow followed her out of the room, exchanging bewildered looks with Omega, he realized what the strange tone was.

Her voice was brittle. Fragile. As though it might break if one of them spoke wrong.

They entered a different room, one high up and far away from the rest of the party. Rouge’s mother stood in front of them for a moment, pulling at her sweater before deciding to sit down. She looked at her gloves for a moment, clearly thinking…

And then promptly burst into tears.

The two were incredibly startled at this, and despite both being relatively...emotionally inexperienced, they gathered around her to try and help. 

“Uh...I...is something wrong?” Shadow asked, immediately kicking himself mentally. Of course something’s wrong, people don’t cry if everything’s perfectly fine!

Omega, thankfully, got straight to the point. “What is it?”

“It’s...no, no, it was...Rouge.” the bat said, her voice sounding choked.

“Rouge?!” Shadow’s quills bristled. “What happened?”

“She...when Rouge came back. From her two years, you know, away-”

Shadow and Omega did know, now.

“-she came to the party two years ago, and she was different. She was cold, and distant, didn’t talk, and only laughed a- at people, not with them.”

Rouge? Cold and distant?!

“She wouldn’t talk to anybody about her life- the only reason I even knew she worked for G.U.N. was the logo on the paychecks she sent. When she stopped sending those, after I told her the news about Camellia- she took that well enough, but after that...I heard nothing. Nothing, for almost ten months.”

Omega’s eyes were wide, and Shadow was sure his own were as well.

“A-and then one day, she called me up. Her voice was different. Warmer. Happier. She apologized for her silence, and said she’d been in a bad place. I blamed myself, and accepted her apology, of course. She had to grow up so young, do so much all by herself… and she paid the price for it...for a while.

“And then I happened to look at an old article a couple weeks later, and I realized why she was better- and I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. My baby girl, in the news! And of all the things...fighting a world-renowned supervillain alongside the likes of Sonic the Hedgehog!

“But that wasn’t why she was better. No, when I started searching the internet frantically and saw her perched on the shoulder of a massive black and red robot, laughing uproariously- when I finally worked up the courage to go to her social media pages and saw, not darkness and pain, but her with an arm slung tightly around a young striped hedgehog, flashing the biggest smile I’d seen in years, I knew.”

Shadow’s hands were jittery and he really wished his heart would stop beating so loudly.

“It was both of you. I never found out the specifics as to how she met you two- I hope she’ll tell me the story someday- but you saved her from all of it. She had coworkers, sure, some nicer than others, but you gave her friends, and ones who understood her position at that.

“And this year- getting into a snowball fight! Telling silly stories at the dinner table! She would never have done that last year, mark my words.”

Rouge’s mother was smiling broadly through her tears now, looking at both of them. She reached out and hugged Omega, tightly but quickly, and did the same for Shadow, leaving him dumbfounded. “Just- I-

“Thank you.”

Shadow sat there for a minute, unable to do anything other than keep a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, though, he noticed some movement by the door, and spun around to see Rouge standing there, absolutely silent as mascara-filled tears streamed down her face. Her hand was clamped over her mouth, presumably to keep from making any noise. 

“Rouge?” her mother asked, startled.

“Mooommmmm….” she whined, her own voice sounding tight- and then she rushed across the room and into her mother’s arms. “I love you, Mom.”

Shadow tried very hard to ignore the burning sensation just behind his eyes.

“You’re right. About, like, all of it.” Rouge said quietly, once she was finished crying with her mom. “Nothing here mattered to me when I was out there every day being, basically a soldier, y’know?”

She sighed, wiping more tears from the corners of her eyes, and stood up. “I think now’s a good time to say something that I’ve been thinking about for a while. Sorry if it isn’t perfect-” she laughed thickly- “I’m not exactly in the best state right now.”

Rouge’s mother smiled at her. “I’ll give you three some privacy, then.” she said gently, closing the door on her way out.

After she left, the younger bat resumed her impromptu speech. “Okay. Omega....chaos. Omega. Ohhh man.” She pointed at him. “That day? When you busted out of heckin’ nowhere and started blasting your machine guns like mad? O-one of the best days of my life. Wanna know why? I met you.”

Omega looked very fixedly at a point on the wall behind her.

“You literally carry me places. You crush our enemies with your epic missiles and fists of steel. You helped me prank Knuckles so bad he was checking everywhere for traps for the next week. You’re so fun and I just. You. Awesome. I can’t explain it properly right now but hopefully I’ll get to do a lot more of that later. You’re the best ever.”

“I…” Omega sounded like he was at a loss for words. “I am...honestly extremely flattered by this statement. I will continue to carry you places and destroy all who oppose us.”

“Awesome.” Rouge grinned.

“Aaaand Shadow.” She wheeled to face him, and the hedgehog in question attempted to mentally prepare himself and failed horribly. “You. You are so cool there are no words to describe it. And I don’t mean because you own a motorbike or you dress in all black or any of that stuff. 

“I mean because like half the people who’ve been important in your life so far have been trying to kick the ever-loving hell out of you...and yet you get up each and every single time they do it and win. Honestly...I’m proud to know you, Shadow. And I hope you know that if you need me, for anything ever, know that I will give up the Master Emerald in a hot second to help.

“So yeah. And you’re the first guy I’ve ever met who’s actually willing to talk makeup- let alone likes it. The one who tries all the new restaurants with me. And the only person I will ever know who can somehow handle going to the mall with me more than once in a week.” Rouge finished with a smirk. “I guess you really are Ultimate.”

Everyone in the room who had tear ducts was currently using them. A lot.

Shadow sniffed furiously and wiped tears from his eyes. “Th- thank you…” He cursed internally as his voice betrayed him.

“Oh yeah, get ready for more.” Rouge warned him. “There’s more.”

The hybrid’s throat tightened in response.

“You know how I said, before we came here, that you guys meant as much to me as my real family?”

“Yes?” Omega asked, his voice sounding a little quieter than usual.

“To heck with that. You guys don’t have to, like, change anything because of this, but you are my family. You’re both my real family. As real as Mom is.” Rouge said, her words shaky yet determined. 

Shadow felt as though he’d just been struck by a bolt of lightning. Dazed, he swayed slightly, clinging to the edge of his seat. 

Family?

Is...is Rouge...is Omega….

He began to hyperventilate just thinking about it, just considering that after all he’d been through, after everything he’d lived through- at the end of it all, waiting for him, right now, was a--

“Shadow. Shadow, hold your breath.” Omega reminded him, and he shut his mouth and clasped his hands tightly for a minute. 

A family? My family?!

“I- yes. Please. Yes. Family sounds good.” Shadow managed to stammer.

“Well, then!” Rouge said, looking pleased. “Now I get to assume the official Big Sister duties of kicking anyone who dares look at you wrong and buying you food.”

Shadow blushed a little. “Rouge. I don’t need protecting like that...”

“I know, but since when’s that going to stop me?” she asked. “And don’t start complaining- being the baby brother’s the good life, from what I’ve heard.”

A fresh wave of tears poured down his face at the words ‘baby brother’. 

Of course, that was when Omega decided to go completely off the rails. “Am I the middle sibling or the youngest?”

Shadow and Rouge stared at him for a second. Then they both started laughing wildly, the toll of the various emotional highs and lows hitting them all at once. 

“M-middle one.” Rouge gasped out eventually. “Definitely, the attention-seeking middle sibling.”

Omega made angry eyes for a second, but reconsidered. “Fine. That...yes, that works.”

“Family group hug?” Rouge suggested, smiling warmly at them both.

Shadow nodded weakly. “F-family group hug.”

Omega picked them both up and held them tightly. “You both will always be my favorite organic beings.”

“Thanks, Omega.” Rouge said, squeezing them both a little tighter.

…

A couple of hours later, Shadow was pulled out of his room for the third time in two days, again by Rouge’s mother. “Sorry to bother you, honey, I just wondered...would you mind giving us a hand with dinner? You were such a great help with breakfast that Cami and I had hoped....”

Curse you, Rouge.

So now he was in the kitchen. Again.

Only things were very different this time. Now, there were about ten people in there, all rushing around in some complicated pattern and carrying hot, cold, cooked, uncooked, and various other kinds of dishes all over without running into each other.

Somehow. 

Shadow, despite feeling very overwhelmed and (strangely) underqualified, took one step into the fray- and immediately jumped several feet straight back as he was nearly mowed down by one of Rouge’s auncles rushing past with some sort of casserole.

“Sorry, kiddo!” they yelled over their shoulder, handing off the dish to someone else before sprinting back across the kitchen. Seconds later, another relative vaulted over the island in the middle of the room to get to the sink as quickly as possible, while carrying a semi-full plate that he somehow managed to keep steady.

The hybrid suddenly remembered several battles and sparring matches that he’d participated in. This...actually looked a lot like those.

He locked eyes with Rouge’s stepmother. She didn’t have time to say anything to him, instead just tilting her head in one direction. Shadow’s eyes snapped to a frying pan left unattended and knew what he had to do.

He took a running start and launched himself clear over several people’s heads before sticking the landing right in front of the pan. Several people applauded, and one person- the vaulting relative from earlier- frowned, having been severely upstaged.

So it was a competition, then?

Shadow looked directly at him and smiled like a feral shark.

...

The wild food preparation/parkour show finished with several people throwing the food to each other across the room like in a musical (Shadow thanked his lucky stars that he’d caught his- it was made of glass), and he decided it only existed because Rouge’s family was extremely over-the-top.

Immediately following that, everyone gathered around for another large dinner, during which Shadow only ate a little. And after too many more embarrassing stories, everyone gathered into a room to watch one of those cheesy Wintersweek romance movies that always came out in droves at this time of year.

Shadow said that they were all incredibly cookie-cutter style stories, each one following the exact same plot. Rouge claimed they were uplifting, fun stories and that she didn’t care if they were all the same. Omega liked to categorize all of the things that were wrong with them, so he was willing to sit with Rouge as she watched them.

The hybrid had scoffed cynically and walked away, filling the kitchen sink with water in the next room over and making a big deal out of clattering the plates around that he planned to wash.

Romance movies were so overrated.

Shadow could still see the screen through the doorway (not that he wanted to), and despite his wishes, the movie kept distracting him. He couldn’t stop himself from looking up to see what was going on.

It appeared to be a classic enemies to lovers story, as currently the shy young woman with a rock band shirt- who also happened to be the main star (cliche alert)- was glowering furiously at the trendy, popular blonde movie star. Who was, of course, berating the main character for her poor customer service.

At a coffee shop.

Shadow sighed loudly.

And of course, just as he’d suspected (he wasn’t paying that much attention to the movie all these films were the same really) they both ended up competing. In a Wintersweek cooking competition.

The movie star was confident she would win. Her film crew was ever-present, taking all the best shots of her as she ‘worked’.

Obviously, the main character was determined to beat her through hard work and skill. She was fully prepared to show this star just who she was dealing with…

...and all that and so on. Shadow rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the soapy water.

And then (this movie was like every single other one!!) their partners both came down with an illness that wiped out several other competitors as well. So naturally they were forced to work together. And of course they worked well, too.

(Shadow had stopped working on the dishes by now. Somewhere around here, he’d forgotten to look away.)

By the time these two had begun to look past each other’s flaws and see the real person beneath them, his eyes were riveted to the screen. It was still bad, he told himself, even as he watched every move they made. It was still bad.

They were working together now, smiling slowly and talking quickly and sometimes, occasionally, laughing. The obligatory hands-touching-by- accident scene happened. The two looked into each other’s eyes.

Shadow couldn’t decide how he felt anymore. Confusing emotions swirled inside him.

The kiss scene. (He saw it coming a mile away.)

The awkwardness. (Just to build up the tension.)

Their lips meet. (And a little voice deep down inside Shadow whispers…

 ...that feels right.)

The hybrid didn’t move a muscle for the next several minutes of the movie, refusing to miss a moment.

The couple won the competition. Of course, he thought, some form of rational thought returning to him. That was to be expected.

As the movie ended on their celebratory kiss, Shadow began, strangely, to feel as though someone had just punched him in the chest. When the credits rolled, he left, walking away from the movie, trying to get rid of this strange sensation.

He heard the click of Rouge’s high heels follow a minute after. And then the stomp of Omega’s ironclad steps.

Folding his arms, he tried to project an I-don’t-care attitude. Unfortunately for him, Rouge and Omega could a) tell that he was projecting said attitude and b) figured out quickly what he was really thinking. Curses.

“Was it the movie?” Omega asked bluntly.

The only acknowledgment Shadow gave was a slight twitch of his shoulders up and down.

“Did you hate it?” Rouge questioned.

Again, just a twitch of the shoulders.

They both studied him for a second.

“No…” the bat whispered, her teal-shadowed eyes widening. “No, you liked it! You liked it!”

“I did not!” Shadow spat furiously, more venom than he’d intended finding its way into his voice.

“You did.” Omega said. It wasn’t a question.

“I mean…” he sighed, looking away. “Let’s not talk about it, okay?”

“Come on, Shadow…” Rouge said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Please?” Omega asked.

The hybrid groaned. “I...it was just- it wasn’t good, are we clear? It was just sappy. But. If you insist. I suppose...romance...argh. I can’t say it!”

“It’s okay, hon, just be patient.” Rouge said soothingly.

“Ugh...I mean...I’ve never dated someone before. Is it...really that nice?” Shadow muttered. His eyes narrowed, daring them to taunt him.

Omega looked at him, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “You want to date someone?”

“Wh-no, not like that! I- I mean...not just anyone…” he sputtered.

“So you’ve got someone in mind, then?” Rouge smirked at him, raising a brow.

“No!” he snapped, his eyes wide. “I- just meant- promise me you’ll never set me up on a blind date, are we clear?”

“Promise.” she said. “And I’m not crossing my fingers, either.” The bat waved both of them in front of her to demonstrate.

“However, we will force you to converse with others at future social events.” Omega declared. “I have heard that this is the first step in a successful relationship.” 

Shadow scowled, but without any real heat. “Don’t you dare.”

Rouge giggled. “No more sulking edgily in the corner for you, emo-hog!”

He groaned. “Are you both turning against me? Really?”

“Of course we are.” Omega remarked. “That is exactly what family is for.”

“I don’t know whether to feel flattered or irritated.” Shadow grumbled.

“Flattered. Definitely~.” Rouge quipped with a wink.

“Ugh. Well, I’m going to bed now. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” he sighed, stalking out of the room.

“Aw, come on, Shadow!” the bat said teasingly. “Don’t you want to watch the sequel?”

The hybrid spun around so fast his quills nearly sliced up the doorway. “I’m sorry, the what now?”

“The sequel.” Omega repeated flatly. “You know you do.”

He hesitated.

“Fine.” Shadow growled through gritted teeth, his hands occasionally clenching into fists. “But only if I get to run commentary with Omega.”

“Sounds fair!” Rouge chirped, flying off with the other two right behind her.

As they walked away, Shadow in the back, he allowed himself a small, secret smile. They truly cared about him, and he knew they only wanted to see him happy. The teasing was all their way of showing affection. His eyes began to glimmer softly with a faint hint of happiness as fond thoughts and memories drifted through his mind. One sentence, though, stood out above all the rest.

I love my family.

[avoicegonesilent95]

Another year.

Another trip around the sun.

Sound the trumpets.

Bang the drums.

26.

26.

26.

Getting old.

Tired.

Of everything.

Of everyone.

Talking becomes a chore.

Not sure what to say anymore.

Self isolating,

best medicine.

Giving up.

Accepting the inevitable.

Stop trying to be like them.

They have promise.

They have potential.

They have hope.

You're just a grouchy old fuck,

clinging obstinately to some flickering hope,

that somehow this'll all work out.

Deus ex machina.

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Old fool.

Get sober,

think suddenly everything changes,

life gets better.

Never does.

Gets exponentially more difficult.

Can't run anymore.

Turn to face every last demon,

walled off by the bottle.

Licking their lips,

excited to roam free again.

Brace for impact.

Understand,

no matter what,

my fault,

for running away,

like a coward.

Take the punishment.

Laugh.

Spit blood.

Realize this is the only way,

this could've worked out.

Only this way,

and not some other.

Smile,

in a cosmic sense,

this chaos,

this brutality,

this gut wrenching suffering,

barely a speck of a speck of a speck of a speck,

of a footnote in the greater history of all.

Eventually everything and everyone,

just a fading memory.

A story told to prove that any of us existed at all.

In the end,

no matter how great the struggle.

How noble the endeavor.

How worthy the cause.

How mighty the sovereign.

In spite of all our woes and joys.

The universe won't even blink at our utter

annihilation.

Not sure if that brings comfort,

or utter cosmic despair.

The world is made of paradoxs.

[kaiunkaiku]

I return from the grave with a fic! I swear I wasn’t meaning to publish this on April 1st but what can you do, I’m beyond done with this particular piece and it’s finally ready. Fuck it. 

Fandom: D.Gray-man

Warnings: Illness, delirious narrator at times, attempted and botched character analysis

@i-am-too-sick it’s finally here!

Kanda is shaking.

Lavi has been aware of this fact for a while, now. 

Kanda has been shaking for a while, now. 

Lavi would like to do something about it, since Kanda is obviously feeling like utter hell, but his last attempt to approach ended with Mugen’s hilt against his throat, so he isn’t about to try that again any time soon. His biggest accomplishment is his jacket acting as Kanda’s pillow.

But Kanda does look horribly pale, the dark of his hair only contrasting it further in the dim lights of the train cabin. Lavi wonders how high his fever currently is, but he has no way of checking. Kanda is, in general, very strict about his personal space, but right now it seems to be even worse. Lavi has tried asking, several times, but the responses have consisted of one-syllable answers, muttered grumbling and murderous glares, and he isn’t a big fan of being the target of Kanda-level bloodlust. 

Lavi just hopes he’ll manage to keep his head until Marie and General Tiedoll join them at the next station in a few hours.

The few hours pass and Kanda’s condition shows no signs of improving – rather, it almost looks like he’s getting worse. The shaking is more obvious now, and he’s sweating. His hair is plastered to his face that has taken a quite worrying ashy hue. The worst is his ragged breathing that he seems to be trying to control with no success at all. Lavi is fairly sure Kanda’s body is just trying to get rid of whatever is wrong, but because this is Kanda, it’s doing it at a horribly accelerated pace. Kanda is probably trying to fight it, because Lavi can’t even imagine how awful it must be for something that’s supposed to last presumably over a week, because if he’s correct Kanda has some nasty variant of the flu, to cram itself in all its misery into a day or two. 

XxX

Generally, Kanda doesn’t have anything in particular against trains. They’re certainly faster than walking, and he’s willing to stand irritating company, as long as the company is silent, if it means he can sit down and maybe nap (he prefers walking with Allen, because the fucking bean sprout cannot shut the fuck up, which means walking far enough ahead of him is the only way to get away from the incessant yapping). 

Right now, though, the train cabin feels like a rattling death trap. He’s only vaguely aware of Lavi’s concerned stare, and somehow he feels like he’s both burning and freezing in his own skin. He’s fairly sure his hands are shaking too badly to even hold Mugen anymore, so if Lavi decides to try and come closer again, he’s not really sure what’s going to happen. He’ll probably hurl.

Kanda’s body feels like he’s been fighting for a week straight, and his head feels like it’s simultaneously being crushed and melding itself back together. Both are even on their own enough to make him scream on a bad day, and if he knew with any certainty that screaming would make the pain stop, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He has, however, come to the conclusion that even the slightest of sounds makes it exponentially worse, so he remains silent and grits his teeth. The rattling of the train is awful enough, even if Lavi’s uniform jacket does soften it ever so slightly.

Lavi is saying something, Kanda thinks, and it sets little explosions off in his head and he wants to scream again, but he can’t take a deep enough breath to make that much noise anyway. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he’s currently working with maybe half a lung instead of two. Kanda opens his eyes to send a menacing glare in Lavi’s direction, but his vision is so blurry he can barely make out where the damn rabbit is at the moment. 

He can still see the lotus, though. Clear and sharp. Everywhere.

It takes him a moment to realize that the train isn’t moving. Stringing together a coherent train of thought is far more difficult than it should be, and it isn’t until he sees a flash of familiar dark fabric that he realizes they’re probably at a station.

And then the General shouts, “Yuu-kun!” or at least Kanda is fairly sure he does, and Kanda feels all of his muscles lock up in protest to the sudden noise. There’s a choked gasp that probably came from his own mouth, and then a hand on his face and it’s both awful and a blessing because the hand is cool against his burning skin but his skin also feels like it’s burning off and the contact makes it worse and suddenly Kanda has no idea which way he’s lying down, where’s up where’s down is he moving is he not moving why does someone keep screaming his name why is his heart trying to beat itself out of his chest why is his throat being shred to pieces 

what the hell is happening.

XxX

Kanda is shaking.

He was shaking before, too, but that was more on the side of shivering. Right now, he’s nearly convulsing, and Lavi just prays he’s not going to have a seizure, because he’s not a doctor, Marie is not a doctor and General Tiedoll is not a doctor, and the cabin is on the smaller side. They have another cabin booked for them, presumably similar to this one, so they don’t have to spend the remaining trip all in the same small space, and Lavi has no idea why the hell he’s thinking about that right now, because there’s something very, very wrong with Kanda.

Marie is standing at the door, although he looks like he’d rather scoop Kanda up from where he’s lying, curled up to himself around Mugen, and carry him out and to the nearest inn. If Lavi is being honest, Kanda kind of looks like that would be good for him. 

General Tiedoll has his hand on Kanda’s cheek and a concerned frown on his own face. Kanda himself is simultaneously trying to breathe and cough his lungs out, and Lavi is afraid Kanda is really going to pass out soon, if not from anything else then from lack of oxygen. The General is trying to talk to him, or at least to get his attention somehow, but Kanda doesn’t look like he’s even hearing, let alone responding.

And then, Kanda stops. Suddenly all the movement and noise ceases and his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. “Yuu-kun?” the General asks, voice just as concerned as his face. A horrible whimper, barely audible, escapes Kanda’s lips, and Lavi decidedly never, never wants to hear anything so awful ever again, and his eyes roll back. Kanda goes limp and both Marie and Lavi surge forward, even though General Tiedoll is already turning his pupil over on his back. He swiftly hands Mugen to Lavi, who nearly drops it. 

Kanda looks disturbingly peaceful unconscious, Lavi thinks. His breathing is still messed up, but his face is slack and void of any irritation or discomfort, as if it hasn’t been ten seconds since he was in excruciating pain and shaking badly enough for it to be heard. 

XxX

Waking up is… weird. Everything is a little fuzzy, everything is a lot painful and nothing feels quite right. There’s something cool on his face, covering his eyes, which is okay because he’s fairly sure he doesn’t want to see anything right now, and he’s freezing. 

There’s a hand in his hair and something under his head. 

The fingers on his scalp nearly make Kanda sit up and flinch back, but before his reflexes can kick in, he recognizes the familiar feeling.

Marie. 

That’s good, Marie is good. Marie is constant, Marie is safe, and although Kanda isn’t quite sure how he ended up in this situation, he feels horrible enough to let Marie run his fingers through his hair. He remembers feeling sick earlier, too, vaguely before he and Lavi boarded the train, and then progressively worse after that. He remembers Lavi prodding him, remembers Lavi offering him his jacket at some point and not even bothering to refuse. 

After that, most things are just pain and haze. He can kind of recall pointing Mugen, hilted, at the damn rabbit’s throat, but that’s a usual occurrence and he could be remembering a totally different time. 

“You’re awake?” 

Kanda can’t help but flinch at the sudden voice. It’s quiet and low, and doesn’t aggravate his head as badly as it probably could. Marie’s fingers stop moving for a moment before continuing their journey along his scalp. Kanda offers a low hum in a belated response. He thinks, at least. He can’t seem to distinguish between seconds and minutes.

“You gave us quite a scare,” Marie continues, and while both his presence and voice are familiar and safe and comforting, just concentrating on the words feels exhausting. “How do you feel?”

“Like my body is trying to stitch itself together while being shred to pieces,” Kanda mutters in response, through a raw throat. He isn’t sure how much sense that sentence made, but he can’t seem to be sure of anything right now. There’s a weird pressure in his head that’s distorting everything, or maybe it’s the constant, dizzying rush of blood in his ears. Marie’s voice sounds oddly distant, almost like an echo. 

The train lurches in some direction, Kanda isn’t sure which because he’s not sure which way he himself is except that he’s on his back and he thinks his head is on Marie’s lap, and there’s a crash and some cursing coming from somewhere and the whatever was on his face slides off. There’s a hand on his waist and he doesn’t know how long it’s been there and suddenly everything is spinning even though he has his eyes closed, no he doesn’t when did he open his eyes, there are flowers at the edges of his vision, he thinks, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t feel like himself and he just wants things to stay still and he can’t breathe— 

And then there’s red in his vision, a touch on his shoulder and all he can hear is white noise but Lavi’s lips are moving and the world tilts, there’s a hand on his back and he feels vaguely like he’s going to throw up. Swallows thickly. The hands on him are doing something, pushing him somewhere and he wants them off, off, he doesn’t know whether he’s burning or freezing again because maybe it’s both. It kind of feels like the time the Science Section freaks accidentally set him on fire and then dunked him in ice cold water because it was November, except that this is his entire body burning and not just his arm. 

Huh. He still hasn’t murdered Reever for that.

XxX

Kanda is shaking.

It’s more on the shivering side again, which Lavi supposes is good, but he’s also borderline delirious. He’s barely reacting to anything, even though according to Marie he was still responsive just moments ago. Sudden movements, Lavi assumes, are doing him no favors.

The more pressing issue, however, is the fact that Kanda’s face is clammy with sweat and positively burning. His pupils are dilated so far Lavi can barely see the blue of Kanda’s eyes around them, and keeping calm is becoming increasingly difficult.

The fact is, though, that currently Lavi is the person with most medical knowledge present, so he just has to suck it up.

“Marie,” he starts, directing his words to the older Exorcist, hands still on Kanda’s shoulders. “We need to get his fever down. He’s burning up.” Marie nods and starts unbuttoning Kanda’s uniform jacket. It hurts Lavi’s heart, because Kanda obviously feels like he’s freezing, but getting his body temperature down is more important than comfort right now. 

General Tiedoll is still negotiating with the train staff about a bigger cabin with an actual bed, which shouldn’t be so difficult because they’re the Black Order, but apparently some civilians can be more of a pain in the ass than an Akuma or three. 

It doesn’t matter, Lavi tells himself as he moves to open the cabin’s window. Marie is in the process of taking off Kanda’s shirt, a process made difficult by the fact that Kanda has no idea what’s going on and probably just wants to stay warm. Marie is talking to him in a low voice, trying to make him relax enough to let him get the shirt off, because Kanda has his arms locked around himself. 

Lavi needs water. He also needs ice, but he’s not sure he can find that on the train. They have two stations left until the final one, and from there they’re supposed to make their way to London. Though, Lavi suspects they might have to stay in France a bit longer than expected, because he’s not hauling Kanda across the English Channel in this condition. That means more expenses for the Order, of course, but Komui will probably understand.

No, Komui will definitely understand, Lavi decides, because despite the fact that the man is a total whackjob, he also cares deeply for all his subordinates. If it wasn’t for his workload and tendency to get seasick, Lavi wouldn’t be surprised to see Komui drag himself across the Channel just to check on Kanda. One or two nights in Calais for four Exorcists isn’t going to destroy the Order’s budget. 

And now, he needs that water. He trusts Marie to take care of Kanda – he’s been an Exorcist long enough to know actual, proper first-aid (one would expect any person to know first-aid when they frequently fight against killer machines, but Kanda absolutely sucks at that), and more importantly, Kanda trusts him. 

XxX

Marie is worried, there’s no other way to express it. He trusts Lavi to know what he’s doing, but with the way Kanda’s skin is burning or heart is beating or breathing is sounding, all of his concerns can’t be put to rest with trust alone. Kanda is shivering against him already, and having to take off his shirt is next level of horrible.

He’s not quite sure whether Kanda’s rapid pulse is because of the sickness or the fact that he’s just very agitated, or maybe both, but trying to calm him down is doing absolutely nothing. Marie doesn’t know if Kanda is even registering anything that’s happening around him, except for the fact that he’s cold and miserable. 

What he does know is that Kanda would probably rather be wrapped in all the available jackets and blankets and lying down. That, however, isn’t going to happen, so Marie settles for trying to soothe away the worst of Kanda’s mental discomfort until Lavi arrives with the water. 

He’s been running his hands through Kanda’s messy hair for a few moments when he hears something in Kanda’s chest hitch, and his fellow pupil jerks away from him violently. At first it almost sounds like he can’t draw breath at all, but the coughing fit that follows is almost worse. 

If he couldn’t breathe at all, Marie could do something about it. Now, however, he can merely rub Kanda’s back behind his lungs and hope it helps, and make sure Kanda doesn’t fall over and to the floor. Kanda’s hands are grasping at whatever they can get a hold of until the other one finds Marie’s wrist and latches there. 

Marie both feels and hears the rattling from Kanda’s lungs, and it’s one of those moments when he’s glad he doesn’t have to see but also wishing he didn’t have to hear. 

Kanda’s fingers feel like ice against Marie’s wrist, which is disconcerting, as both his back and chest are far, far too warm. Marie doesn’t recall Kanda being sick ever before, just injured or exhausted, and he’s known his fellow pupil for nine years. Of course there have been months in between, missions with other people and assignments on the opposite sides of the world, but Kanda has always known of his injuries beforehand when they’ve met up again, without him telling him, so Marie finds it reasonable to assume that he would have been informed had Kanda ever been ill. He has long since stopped listening to stories of Kanda’s injuries, because Kanda tends to rely on his regenerative abilities and approximately every third story is got blasted through the chest or had his stomach blown up or something equally fatal for anyone who isn’t Kanda. 

Now, as Kanda is trembling in his arms, Marie finds it impossible to believe that something as fragile as this kid could ever survive anything like being clawed through. He knows Kanda is strong, it’s an undeniable fact, but right now he also seems very, very human. 

XxX

Kanda is shaking. 

Lavi nudges the door of the cabin open with his foot, both hands holding buckets of water and General Tiedoll right behind him with an armful of rags and towels. It comes as a surprise that both Kanda and Marie are on the floor, but the shaking is something Lavi has almost come to expect. It’s worse again, not as bad as it was earlier when he passed out but definitely more than shivering. There’s probably a word for that particular state, Lavi thinks, at least in some language he knows, but now is not the time to think about vocabulary. 

The sound that’s supposedly Kanda’s breathing is absolutely horrible. It’s wheezing and sounds like it’s going through a clogged filter. Kanda is on his knees, his weight supported by Marie and his back heaving, and his hair hangs around his face limply. Marie is also on his knees, both arms fully dedicated to preventing Kanda from toppling over and looking far more concerned than what Lavi would like to see. Kanda has a death grip on Marie’s arm – Lavi can see the muscles in his forearm straining from the strength of it, and it must hurt like hell for Marie. 

Lavi sets the buckets down and hopes the movement of the train won’t knock them over. Kanda’s face is just as pale as it has been for the entirety of the journey, washed of all color, but the delirious, vacant look is gone – he looks more like the Kanda Yuu Lavi knows with a frown on his face, even if it is pained. Lavi isn’t sure whether that’s a good sign or not, but it gives him some hope. Hell, maybe he’ll get a response at some point. 

Apparently General Tiedoll has similar ideas – he’s already at Kanda’s side when Lavi has just made sure that the buckets stay still. The General lifts a hand to Kanda’s cheek, touch tender and eyes soft, and Lavi feels more like an outsider than he usually does. Those three are a family (a family of four, they’re supposed to be, and Daisya’s absence is still a gaping wound in the space to Kanda’s right), and Lavi feels like he’s intruding on something private he shouldn’t even be seeing. 

Lavi settles himself carefully to Kanda’s left with a damp towel he drapes on Kanda’s shoulders. A shudder works itself up Kanda’s spine, and Lavi watches it travel through his shoulders to his fingertips that loosen a little around Marie’s wrist. It’s going to bruise, Lavi can see that, and Kanda is going to feel bad and guilty about it later and have no idea what to do about those feelings, and Lavi is going to have to try and talk him through that. Sure, it’s nice that Kanda is having normal human emotions these days, instead of just anger, annoyance and frustration, but it’s a work in progress. 

Kanda lets out a huff that could almost be a whimper, and tries to curl further up to himself and into Marie. It’s almost pitiful, almost, but mostly it’s as close to heartbreaking as Lavi is likely to ever find anything. 

That’s a thought he files neatly in a box that he tries to throw away but ends up not being able to. 

Together they gather Kanda from the floor and Marie settles them into the position they were in earlier, Kanda lying down with his head on Marie’s lap and still gripping Marie’s uniform – his hand has moved to clutch the fabric of Marie’s sleeve, but a deathgrip is a deathgrip. General Tiedoll carefully takes Kanda’s free hand and murmurs something Lavi deliberately doesn’t pay attention to. 

He steps out to find someone he can chew out for still not having that larger cabin. 

XxX

Once Kanda settles down and they manage to maneuver him into a position where his breathing doesn’t sound like he’s going to asphyxiate in the immediate future, General Tiedoll stands up from the floor he’s been crouching down to provide his young apprentice some comfort. He wets a rag, wrings it out and sets it on Kanda’s forehead, and Kanda’s breath pauses momentarily but doesn’t hitch. The rattle in his lungs is still there, but it sounds more contained and less likely to explode at any given moment; Marie resists the urge to sigh in relief. 

The General takes Kanda’s hand again, and starts to quietly talk about their last assignment. He omits everything worse than the run-of-the-mill destruction level ones cause, and instead talks about the children, the food, the generosity of the villagers, the birds that sang in the trees at the lake’s shoreline. He doesn’t mention the six-year-old girl who lost her leg and entire family in an Akuma attack, or the fourteen-year-old boy who died saving her – instead, he mentions the blind child who was elated to meet Marie. The teenager who sang her voice raw at the front of a half-destroyed town hall where the people gathered to draw strength from each other. The group of elderly ladies who put their ingredients together and spent two days cooking and baking so everyone had food. 

By the time Lavi comes back, Kanda’s breath has evened out as much as it’s likely to do right now, and he’s at least dozed off if not outright fallen asleep. There’s an aura of irritation around Lavi that tells Marie the train staff is still being difficult before he even opens his mouth. 

“Now they’re saying that if we still want to switch cabins we can, but there’s also barely an hour until we reach Calais,” Lavi says, one hand thoughtfully rubbing at his neck. “What do you think, is it worth to move him?” 

Marie considers this for a moment, brushing his fingers through Kanda’s tangled hair. “I don’t think so, no,” he replies after a brief pause. 

“He finally calmed down, so moving him now would only make it worse,” General Tiedoll continues for him. Marie nods in agreement. 

Lavi sighs heavily, but the near-palpable aura around him dissipates somewhat. 

XxX

For the first time in hours, Kanda isn’t shaking. There’s an occasional frown that passes on his still-far-too-pale face, and Lavi doesn’t know if it’s just general discomfort or nightmares, but all in all he looks much better now. 

Now don’t get him wrong, Kanda still looks absolutely miserable, but he’s no longer shaking uncontrollably, and he looks like he’s actually asleep rather than unconscious. Lavi considers this a victory. 

He’s still feverish, but it’s not spiking anymore, so as they steadily approach the final stop they start dressing Kanda back up. Kanda is semi-awake for it and actually tries to help in the process, but he seems spent and exhausted. He keeps tugging at his loose hair like it’s distracting him, so after a while Lavi switches places with Marie so he can sit next to Kanda instead. 

“Yuu, I’m going to tie your hair up, yeah? That okay with you?” Lavi asks even though he so often doesn’t, usually just going for it while Kanda sleeps. Kanda considers this for a moment, before slowly nodding and turning so his back is fully facing Lavi and he can lean his head on the wall to their right. His breath has picked up pace again now that he’s sitting up, so Lavi does quick work with the loose braid starting at the base of Kanda’s neck. 

It’s not the most beautiful braid he’s ever done, but it effectively stops Kanda’s hair from tangling up further and getting in the way of everything. He ties it up just as the announcement that they’ll be arriving shortly sounds, and Kanda immediately perks up. Lavi lets go of his hair as Kanda reaches for his uniform jacket. 

“When’s the next ferry leaving?” Kanda asks, tugging his jacket on. His voice is hoarse, barely there, and he sways as he stands up. Lavi could swear he goes another shade whiter. 

“We’ll be staying the night,” Marie answers before Lavi can. Kanda frowns. 

“Why?” he demands, trying for a menacing glare. In any other circumstances Lavi would be comparing him to a wet cat right now, because this could be incredibly funny, but Kanda’s hands are shaking as he tries to button up his jacket. 

The train lurches and Kanda’s knees buckle. 

Lavi reaches for him and yanks him back on the seat before he can go down, and then gets to hold him up as Kanda almost slides down anyway. His breathing is back to sounding like a nightmare. Lavi raises a hand to Kanda’s face to find it clammy with cold sweat, and softly swears to himself. 

“Yuu,” he starts firmly. Kanda doesn’t react at all. “Yuu, do not pass out on me now. You hear me?” He taps at Kanda’s cheek lightly, and watches as he swallows convulsively through the ragged breathing. “Yuu, eyes on me. Nothing else matters. Look at me.” 

From the corner of his eye he notices General Tiedoll approaching them, but he quickly settles back when Lavi quickly shakes his head at him. He can understand the General wanting to do something, but Kanda needs one thing to focus on right now and it’ll be easier if it’s Lavi. Kanda’s gaze looks hazy and Lavi is genuinely concerned he might pass out. It’s vaguely terrifying. He squashes that feeling down. 

It takes a lot of prodding until Kanda’s eyes finally zero in on him. He still looks dizzy, but focus is good. Focus means Lavi can talk to him. 

“Good, that’s good. Just keep looking at me, okay.” He decides to risk angering Kanda again, because really, he has to. “You really wanna cross the Channel like this, Yuu?” He expects a sudden reaction, anger, but all he gets is Kanda closing his eyes and clicking his tongue in a display of annoyance. Thought so. 

Kanda tries to walk out once the train stops, he really does. It’s kind of sad to watch. He keeps glaring at Lavi and Marie and the General in that miserable wet cat kind of way until he finally gives in to either his own body or General Tiedoll who keeps insisting he let Marie carry him. 

There’s a nice little inn almost right next to the station that they decide suits their needs. Lavi stays at the station to make a call to Komui while the others go ahead.

Komui is, unsurprisingly, not pleased to hear what he has to say, but as expected he’s more worried about Kanda than he is about the Order’s budget. He briefly questions Lavi about the mission he and Kanda were on for the past week, but he’s really more interested in Lavi’s observations about Kanda’s abilities than anything else about it. 

Well, that and Kanda’s general wellbeing. 

They keep the call short, because Lavi can hear Reever crying in the background and while Komui has no interest in paperwork, he does want Lavi to check on Kanda as soon as possible. 

The young lady clearing tables at the inn instructs him to the rooms General Tiedoll reserved for them. Two rooms; though all of them want to stay with Kanda, the rooms aren’t large enough for four people, so the general consensus ends up being that as the person with the most amount of medical knowledge despite being Kanda’s least favorite person of the group, Lavi will be rooming with him. 

Kanda is already asleep, barely out of his jacket and boots and once again curled around Mugen. Lavi sets his travel bag on the bed and sits down next to it. Kanda looks almost peaceful, now. He hasn’t taken out the braid, Lavi notes with a light air of satisfaction.

It’s still only late afternoon and the window is letting in a nice amount of light, so he takes out his writing equipment and starts chronicling. 

[son-of-alderaan]

J.J. Abrams is racing.

The director has been tasked with bringing four decades of the most popular and longest-running sci-fi franchise of all time to an epic conclusion. And nowadays he’s feeling a bit like Luke Skywalker flying his X-wing down the Death Star trench in A New Hope as TIE fighters closed in — under a bit of pressure, in other words, with the fate of the entire Star Wars universe depending on him.

“We always knew we were going to have three fewer months to postproduction this film,” says Abrams, who took over co-writing and directing duties on the movie two years ago after successfully rebooting the franchise with 2015’s blockbuster The Force Awakens. “So much is still being worked on. It’s literally a practical race to get it finished.”

If that admission sounds worrisome, hold your fire on those tweets.

Despite a deadline crunch to make the film’s Dec. 20 worldwide launch (EW’s interview was conducted in late October), Abrams says he’s feeling “infinitely better” at this very late stage about The Rise of Skywalker than he was about The Force Awakens.

“We had more reshoots on Episode VII than this one,” Abrams says. “We had more story adjustments on VII than this one. We didn’t know if these characters would work, if the actors would be able to carry a Star Wars movie. There were a lot of things we didn’t know. On this, we knew who and what worked, and everyone is doing the best work I’ve ever seen anyone do. But the ambition of this movie is far greater than Force Awakens. What we set out to do was far more challenging. Everything is exponentially larger on this.” 

For example: Disney has released three trailers for The Rise of Skywalker. Some of the shots are stunning and seemingly revealing: desert scavenger–turned–Jedi apprentice Rey (Daisy Ridley) and First Order leader Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) clashing with lightsabers on the half-submerged wreckage of the second Death Star, which was blown up in Return of the Jedi; Rey facing off against a somehow resurrected Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid); the Millennium Falcon flying into a massive armada of Star Destroyers. Plus, those bewildering teases of Rey turning to the Dark Side and teaming up with Kylo.

Yet Abrams says fans still don’t really know anything. “The [trailers] that have come out are scratching the surface of what the movie is,” the famously spoiler-averse director says.

Asked if there are major action sequences we’ve yet to see any footage from, Abrams replies with a firm “Yes” and then, naturally, goes silent.

John Boyega, who plays stormtrooper–turned–Resistance fighter Finn, says his first reaction to the script penned by Abrams and Chris Terrio was he had to “read the script six more times because there was so much information in there.”

Here’s what we know about how Episode IX begins: It’s been more than a year since the events of 2017’s The Last Jedi. The First Order has decimated the Resistance. Rey has been training to use the Force. Finn and hotshot pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) have been sent by General Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher) to find allies throughout the galaxy, but so far haven’t had any luck. “They’re trying to put bandaids on this leaking ship of the Resistance,” Isaac says.

Their mission leads Finn, Poe, and Rey to work together, which has, oddly, never happened before in the trilogy. And since there’s a time jump, the characters have all grown and changed since we last saw them. “We’re not just a ragtag group of people who have been thrown together,” Isaac says. “We’ve actually had time to train. There are some really great sequences with the three of us in infiltrating spaces.”

Both Isaac and Boyega say they had their character wishes granted for the final film. Isaac wanted Poe to get “out the cockpit and into the group,” while Boyega wanted Finn to become a more capable solider (and not, as the actor candidly puts it, just a “comedic goofy dude who never gets stuff done”).

“I definitely wanted more after Episode VIII,” Boyega says. “[Rise of Skywalker] makes Finn’s Episode VIII arc make more sense. We got to bring out a side of Finn we haven’t seen.”

To help spark the trio’s on-screen chemistry, Abrams told his cast to feel free to improvise dialogue, and many scenes were shot using long, continuous takes to keep their flow going. “J.J. came back with a new energy and new vibe,” Boegya says. “He wanted dialogue to be messy and natural, and that got all of us really excited.”

“I think it really captures the spirit of the original trilogy,” Isaac adds. “On top of that there’s fact that Rey has…“

The actor stops, catching himself before revealing too much.

Rey has… what?

“Rey is driving her own thing,” Ridley says. “She’s not doing what other people are telling her to do.”

We last saw Rey mourning the death of her mentor Luke Skywalker (who returns in the film, presumably in Force ghost form, played once again by Mark Hamill) and shutting the door to Kylo’s power-mad seduction attempt. The heroine has since made progress in her Jedi training. “I have skills that have developed, but ‘confident’ isn’t a word I’d use to describe it,” Ridley says. “She’s definitely more in control of everything and can do new fun stuff, but she’s vulnerable and a little insecure about at all.”

Yet Rey will use more than her Force powers in the new film. As Abrams hints: “The scavenger who is desperate and haggling for portions and trying to survive [in Force Awakens] — those special skills and that special experience ends up being something that is essential to saving the galaxy.”

Ridley trained in kickboxing for the final chapter as well, but says the emotional toll of Rey’s journey was more difficult than any combat scenes. “It’s a heavy story for Rey,” Ridley says. “There were days where I was literally like, ‘I can’t do this, I’m so tired, I don’t know if I can like reach that emotion again.’”

Part of Rey’s journey involves solving the mystery of her identity. Well, again. Kylo revealed in The Last Jedi that Rey’s parents are deceased nobodies, “filthy junk traders [who] sold you off for drinking money.” The line embraced the idea that a hero doesn’t need to come from somebody special in order to be somebody special. Yet many fans called foul as the trilogy has teased Rey’s identity as being crucial information from the start (“Classified?” Rey echoed back to BB-8 during her debut sequence. “Me too. Big secret”).

“The parents thing is not satisfied — for her and for the audience,” Ridley says. “That’s something she’s still trying to figure out — where does she come from?”

It’s unclear if Abrams has made a course correction to Last Jedi writer-director Rian Johnson’s plan or there was always more to say about Rey’s parentage. Either way, wasn’t the Episode VIII scene supposed to be sincere?

“It’s not that she doesn’t believe it,” Ridley says carefully, “but she feels there’s more to the story. And she needs to figure out what’s come before so she can figure out what to do next…”

An even bigger cliffhanger is the resolution of Rey’s complex relationship with the First Order’s ruthless leader, who, okay, sure, also looks hot shirtless in high-waisted pants (but what if he didn’t?). Kylo has grown beyond being a “petulant teenager,” and Driver says Kylo’s killing of Supreme Leader Snoke was “kind of a birth moment for him.”

“He had all of these pseudo father figures that he had to either live up to or literally kill to become his own person for the first time,” the actor says.

Naturally, Kylo’s destiny will lead to at least one lightsaber clash with Rey. Abrams sees the duo as “two sides of the same coin,” noting, “even when they’re not together they still haunt each other in a way — they know they are each other’s unresolved business.”

For his part, Driver rejects any labels for the Rey-Kylo relationship. “I don’t think it’s all one thing,” he says. “Part of the fun of playing it is the boundaries of it keep changing. At times it’s more intimate, sometimes less intimate. Sometimes it’s codependent. And then it’s, obviously, adversarial.”

That Rey and Kylo end up battling on the wreckage of the second Death Star continues Abrams’ penchant for showcasing ruined relics of the original trilogy — like Rey spelunking in a wrecked Star Destroyer and living in an AT-AT walker on Jakku in Force Awakens. “It felt like going into the haunted house, the place that you have to go to,” Abrams says of bringing back the iconic space station. “This is a story of people having to grapple with the burden the prior generation dumps on those that follow. So literally returning to this wreck of the past and having to fight it out felt like an obvious metaphor, but also felt incredibly cinematic.”

Of course, there’s another original trilogy fallen icon in the film too. Fisher died after filming The Last Jedi. Figuring out how to utilize Fisher’s previously deleted scenes in the new movie was one of Abrams’ biggest challenges. “Saying Leia had passed away, or that she was off somewhere else, felt like a cheat,” Abrams says. “Then I remembered we had these scenes that we hadn’t used from Episode VII. It was like finding this impossible answer to this impossible question. Suddenly we had classic Carrie in these amazing moments. So when you see in the movie, it’s her, she’s there. It’s not like there’s some crazy digital trickery. She’s just in the movie.”

A couple of other original trilogy characters are likewise integral. Billy Dee Williams is back as that ol’ pirate Lando Calrissian for the first time in live action since Return of the Jedi. Williams says he’s excited to return to the character despite enduring fans coming up to him for decades accusing him of betraying Han Solo. “The whole Star Wars experience feels like it never goes away; It’s always there,” Williams says. “There are all of these things that have happened in Lando’s life that he’s got to resolve.”

There’s also paranoid android C-3PO, who in the latest Skywalker trailer ominously says he’s taking a “last look” at his friends. Threepio is essential to a movie’s plot for the first time since A New Hope (Ridley points out Rey might spend more time with Threepio than any character in the film).

“In previous recent movies Threepio has just been kind of window dressing, something on the mantlepiece, you polish it and dust it o when guests are coming,” says Anthony Daniels, who has played the golden droid’s body and voice in every Skywalker Saga movie. “J.J. and Chris came up with this aspect of Threepio we had not seen before that’s remarkably clever. They go down deep into ancient Star Wars and came up with something refreshingly new.”

Joining Threepio in the metal headgear club is newcomer to the saga Keri Russell. Despite having worked with Abrams for years on Felicity, the actress found herself escorted to a small room where she could only read the Skywalker script under watchful guard. Her character is Zorii Bliss, who’s “involved in some intimate, sketchy stuff” and wears a large brass-and-crimson Daft Punk-like helmet.

“For a shy person this is my ultimate dream job — I get to be in Star Wars and my face is covered,” Russell marvels. “I can see everyone and no one can see me. Though I now have giant throbbing neck muscles like Mr. T.”

There’s also newcomer Naomi Ackie portraying Jannah, a bow-and-arrow-wielding warrior who rides a horse-like creature called an Orbak. Real animals were used on set, and until you’ve ridden a horse dressed up like exotic alien across the surface of the Death Star you haven’t really lived. “I was just gobsmacked,” Ackie says of the experience. “Every day you’re grappling with the fact that every choice you make in a small moment is going to be broadcast to the entire world.”

While the film is introducing new characters, Abrams insists Rise of Skywalker won’t set up a future story. He’s not leaving loose threads for Disney to hang another trilogy directly onto the back of this one. Lucas’ original dream of an intergalactic tale about a farm boy from Tatooine is at last about to set — just like those dreamy twin suns collapsing into the desert. “It’s a very good ending, and a good ending feels right,” Daniels says simply.

And yet, in another way, the final Skywalker Saga film is very much about the future of the franchise. Star Wars will continue to exist in an omniscient Force-like fashion, in everything from toys to TV shows to videogames to theme parks, but new movies have always been the brand’s creative core. Since buying Lucasfilm in 2012, Disney’s movies in a galaxy far, far away peaked early at the box office with Force Awakens and sunk to their lowest level with the most recent entry, 2018’s Solo: A Star Wars Story.

At one point during our interview, Abrams declares, “the stakes are all or nothing with this film.” He was referring to its high-stakes story line, but the same could also be said about the franchise. Even if we never see Rey, Finn and Poe on screen again, Rise of Skywalker’s popularity will likely make an impact on Disney’s next studio moves — guiding like a fallen Jedi or Sith’s unseen hand.

Speaking of: There’s at least one key player we haven’t discussed. Palpatine’s return may be the most closely guarded story line in the film. How is the Emperor, who Vader tossed into the Death Star’s reactor core, back in a seemingly corporeal form?

“This has been a very long chess match that’s been played between the Jedi and the Sith — all the way back to the very beginning,” Issac teases. “It’s an amazing thing to see that really come to the forefront.”

The Rise of Skywalker might very well turn out to be a full-fledged reunion special of Force ghosts. And what are the rules that govern the Jedi and Sith spirit realm anyway? Obi-Wan Kenobi said in Empire Strikes Back that he “cannot interfere” with Luke’s fight with Vader. But in The Last Jedi, Yoda suddenly called down a lightning strike. What can Force ghosts do — and not do — in our world?

Abrams’ reply to that key question is pretty much what you’d expect.

“That’s probably best answered,” the director says, “by not answering it.”

[mytwilightimagines13]

Size doesn’t matter, buddy (Felix Volturi) part 9

Word count: 2353

"You see, Edward?" The strange vampire turned and smiled at Edward like a fond but scolding grandfather. "What did I tell you? Aren't you glad that I didn't give you what you wanted yesterday?" "Yes, Aro, I am," he agreed, tightening his arm around Bella’s waist. "I love a happy ending." Aro sighed. "They are so rare. But I want the whole story. How did this happen? Alice?" He turned to gaze at Alice with curious, misty eyes. "Your brother seemed to think you infallible, but apparently there was some mistake." "Oh, I'm far from infallible." She flashed a dazzling smile. She looked perfectly at ease, except that her hands were balled into tight little fists. Your eyes followed Aro’s every move, wanting to protect your brother and sister at any cost. "As you can see today, I cause problems as often as I cure them." "You're too modest," Aro chided. "I've seen some of your more amazing exploits, and I must admit I've never observed anything like your talent. And (Y/N)! Your strength and speed can measure to that of a newborn, years after your change! It is truly wonderful!" Alice flickered a glance at Edward and so did you. Aro did not miss it. "I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced properly at all, have we? It's just that I feel like I know you two already, and I tend get ahead of myself. Your brother introduced us yesterday, in a peculiar way. You see, I share some of your brother's talent, only I am limited in a way that he is not." Aro shook his head; his tone was envious. "And also exponentially more powerful," Edward added dryly. He looked at Alice as he swiftly explained. "Aro needs physical contact to hear your thoughts, but he hears much more than I do. You know I can only hear what's passing through your head in the moment. Aro hears every thought your mind has ever had." Alice raised her delicate eyebrows, and Edward inclined his head. You frowned, and made a mental note to never shake hands with this man. Aro didn't miss that either. "But to be able to hear from a distance!" Aro sighed, gesturing toward the two of them, and the exchange that had just taken place. "That would be so convenient." Aro looked over your shoulders. All the other heads turned in the same direction, including Jane, Alec, and Demetri, who stood silently beside your group. But you already knew whom had just walked through those doors before turning your head. The luring smell was back and the pull towards the door grew stronger by the minute. Felix was back, and behind him floated two more black-robed men. Both looked very much like Aro, one even had the same flowing black hair. The other had a shock of snow-white hair, the same shade as his face that brushed against his shoulders. Their faces had identical, paper-thin skin. "Marcus, Caius, look!" Aro crooned. "Bella is alive after all, and Alice and (Y/N) are here with her! Isn't that wonderful?" Neither of the other two looked as if wonderful would be their first choice of words. The dark-haired man seemed utterly bored, like he'd seen too many millennia of Aro's enthusiasm. The other's face was sour under the snowy hair. Their lack of interest did not curb Aro's enjoyment. "Let us have the story," Aro almost sang in his feathery voice. Felix retook his spot right behind you, almost closer than before. If you would lean back just a few inches your back would be touching his chest, and you were distracted by this. The white-haired ancient vampire drifted away, gliding toward one of the wooden thrones. The other paused beside Aro, and he reached his hand out, at first you thought to take Aro's hand. But he just touched Aro's palm briefly and then dropped his hand to his side, which made you realise Marcus was letting Aro know his thoughts. Aro raised one black brow. Edward snorted very quietly, Alice looked at him, curious while you tried to keep a neutral expression. Fearing if you would let any emotion show, the whole room would know how much of a distraction Felix was being at the moment, and therefore, showing a weak spot in your defence. "Thank you, Marcus," Aro said. "That's quite interesting." Marcus didn't look interested. He glided away from Aro to join Caius, seated against the wall. Two of the attending vampires followed silently behind him, bodyguards, like you'd thought before. You saw that the two women in the sundresses had gone to stand beside Caius in the same manner. Aro was shaking his head. "Amazing,"' he said. "Absolutely amazing." Alice's expression was frustrated. Edward turned to her and explained again in a swift, low voice. "Marcus sees relationships. He's surprised by the intensity of ours." Aro smiled. "So convenient," he repeated to himself. Then he spoke to us. "It takes quite a bit to surprise Marcus, I can assure you." You looked at Marcus's dead face, and you could easily believe that. "It's just so difficult to understand, even now," Aro mused, staring at Edward's arm wrapped around Bella. "How can you stand so close to her like that?" "It's not without effort," Edward answered calmly. "But still la tua cantante! What a waste!" Edward chuckled once without humour. "I look at it more as a price." Aro was sceptical. "A very high price." "Opportunity cost." Aro laughed. "If I hadn't smelled her through your memories, I wouldn't have believed the call of anyone's blood could be so strong. I've never felt anything like it myself. Most of us would trade much for such a gift, and yet you-" "Waste it," Edward finished, his voice sarcastic now. Aro laughed again. "Ah, how I miss my friend Carlisle! You remind me of him, only he was not so angry." In any other situation, you would have laughed at Aro’s comment. But this wasn’t the moment to let your guard down. "Carlisle outshines me in many other ways as well." Edward said, watching Aro’s every move as well. "I certainly never thought to see Carlisle bested for self-control of all things, but you put him to shame." "Hardly." Edward sounded impatient. As if he were tired of the preliminaries. “Edward, please. Don’t test their patience any more than you possibly have done already.” You thought in your mind, knowing if it came to a fight you would lose. Edward simply ignored you, but you knew he heard you as he relaxed a little bit. "I am gratified by his success," Aro mused. "Your memories of him are quite a gift for me, though they astonish me exceedingly. I am surprised by how it, pleases me, his success in this unorthodox path he's chosen. I expected that he would waste, weaken with time. I'd scoffed at his plan to find others who would share his peculiar vision. Yet, somehow, I'm happy to be wrong." Edward didn't reply, and for that you were grateful, but it didn’t make you calm down. "But your restraint!" Aro sighed, and continued the conversation while your thoughts were suddenly occupied. Felix’s hand had moved forward slightly and softly stroked your arm, trying to calm down your defensive behaviour. He didn’t want you to feel threatened, anyone else of your family, yes, but not you. No one in the room seemed to notice, not even Edward whose concentration was fully focused on Aro and Alice. You froze on the spot, not knowing how to respond, but slowly Felix’s touch worked and you let down your defensive demeanour slightly. That was until your focus was pulled back towards the scene that played in front of you. "Of course, how rude of me!" Aro exclaimed. "Bella," he addressed her directly now. "I'm fascinated that you are the one exception to Edward's impressive talent, so very interesting that such a thing should occur! And I was wondering, since our talents are similar in many ways, if you would be so kind as to allow me to try to see if you are an exception for me, as well?" Bella’s eyes flashed up to Edward's face in terror. But you knew, despite Aro's overt politeness, she didn't had a choice. And it seemed she came to that conclusion as well. She turned back to Aro and raised her hand slowly in front of her. It was trembling. He glided closer the look on his face was more confident than his words had been. Aro reached out, as if to shake her hand, and pressed his insubstantial-looking skin against hers and his filmy eyes smiled down at hers. Felix’s hand travelled down your arm, towards your hand. Almost as if he wanted to take this moment of silence to test the waters and see how far he could go. You bit your lip lightly while trying to concentrate on Bella and Aro. Wondering if Bella was also immune to Aro’s gift. You wanted to pull your hand away but his hand had already took a hold of yours and a small shiver ran through your body. It scared you and you pulled your hand out of his gentle grip, crossing your arms infront of your chest, trying to discourage him. You looked back towards Aro, wondering what his reaction might be to Bella and if he could read her thoughts or not. But you hoped, for her sake and the sake of your family, that he couldn’t.  Aro's face altered as you watched. The confidence wavered and became first doubt, then incredulity before he calmed it into a friendly mask. "So very interesting," he said as he released Bella’s hand and drifted back. You almost let out a sigh of relief. If Aro would think Bella had a potential gift, maybe he would let the four of you walk out alive.   Aro continued to drift away with a thoughtful expression. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering between the four of you. Then, abruptly, he shook his head. "A first," he said to himself "I wonder if she is immune to our other talents, Jane, dear?" "No!" Edward snarled the word. Alice grabbed his arm with a restraining hand. He shook her off. So you quickly grabbed his other arm and held him tightly.  Little Jane smiled up happily at Aro. "Yes, Master?" Edward was truly snarling now, the sound ripping and tearing from him, glaring at Aro with baleful eyes, trying to free himself from your grip. The room had gone still, everyone watching him with amazed disbelief, as if he were committing some embarrassing social faux pas. You saw Felix frown slightly, seeing you struggle keeping your brother down and move a step forward, wanting to help you, protect you. Aro glanced at him once, and he froze in place, his face turning to a sulky expression. Then he spoke to Jane.  "I was wondering, my dear one, if Bella is immune to you." You could barely hear Aro over Edward's furious growls. He escaped your grip in the split second your attention was focused on Felix, moving to hide Bella from their view. Caius ghosted in your direction, with his entourage, to watch. Jane turned toward your group with a beatific smile. "Don't!" Alice cried as Edward launched himself at the little girl. You wanted to jump at Edward, to stop him, but Felix wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. But before anyone else could react, before anyone else could jump between them, before Aro's bodyguards could tense, Edward was on the ground. No one had touched him, but he was on the stone floor writhing in obvious agony, while you stared in horror. Jane was smiling only at him now. Bella seemed to figure out what you and Alice had said about the Volturi’s gifts and why Edward had thrown himself in her path before she could do that to Bella.  "Stop!" she shrieked, her voice echoing in the silence, jumping forward to put herself between them. But Alice threw her arms around her in an unbreakable grasp and ignored her struggles. No sound escaped Edward's lips as he cringed against the stones. You tried to free yourself from Felix’s grip, but to no avail. “Calm down, mia cara.” He whispered, his lips close to your ear.   "Jane," Aro recalled her in a tranquil voice. She looked up quickly, still smiling with pleasure, her eyes questioning. As soon as Jane looked away, Edward was still. Aro inclined his head toward Bella. Jane turned her smile in her direction. Bella didn't even meet her gaze. She watched Edward from the prison of Alice's arms, still struggling pointlessly. "He's fine," Alice whispered in a tight voice. As she spoke, he sat up, and then sprang lightly to his feet. His eyes met Bella’s, and they were horror-struck. You quickly looked Jane, and she no longer smiled. She glared at Bella, her jaw clenched with the intensity of her focus. Bella shrank back, waiting for the pain. Nothing happened. Edward was by her side again. He touched Alice's arm, and she surrendered Bella to him. You relaxed slightly, and Felix’s grip did so too, but he wouldn’t unwrap his arms from your waist. Instead he gently pulled you closer to his chest. It was the only place he felt you were truly safe.  Aro started to laugh. "Ha, ha. ha," he chuckled. "This is wonderful!" Jane hissed in frustration, leaning forward like she was preparing to spring. "Don't be put out, dear one," Aro said in a comforting tone, placing a powder-light hand on her shoulder. "She confounds us all." Jane's upper lip curled back ever her teeth as she continued to glare at Bella. "Ha, ha, ha," Aro chortled again. "You're very brave, Edward, to endure in silence. I asked Jane to do that to me once, just out of curiosity." He shook his head in admiration. Edward glared, disgusted. "So what do we do with you now?" Aro sighed. 

[caiuscassiuss]

Dalliance in Drudgery (CEO/ Boss! Jaehyun) (M)

Description: He pulled you in like a moth to a flame, and you were about to get burned. 

escalation ver. of CEO! NCT series

Genre: (featuring Secretary! you and Boss! Jaehyun) angst | fluff | humor WC: 4.6k Warnings: graphic smut, profanity

_______________________________________________________________________

Jaehyun, even in his business dealings, was magnetic.

His slight smile and handsome face first drew a person’s eyes to him, then his charismatic mannerisms caught their attention, but his voice —a deep, throaty tenor— never failed to enthrall any listener.

You quickly jotted notes as the board members wrapped up the meeting, careful to catch every word spoken. Everyone stood up from their chairs at the table but Jaehyun’s height towered over everyone else’s, yet another card of the natural allure he had in spades. His eyes swept over to capture yours as you waited patiently behind him to finish up shaking hands. Through your brief glance, you warned him to wrap up the meeting quickly as you had another one in 15 minutes. He seemed to get the message when he sped up, and both of you left the oak-paneled room first.

“What is next, Miss Y/L/N?”

His lips fascinated you. They were plump and well shaped, and whenever your boss opened his mouth to speak they dripped with enticement.

“Mr. Seo’s merger with the shipping branch, sir,” you avoided his eyes while looking at the tablet clutched in your hands. From the beginning of your employment, you found it difficult to maintain direct eye contact with the man, contrasting to your usual confident demeanor. You did not believe eyes were the window to the soul, no; however, his unwavering focus unnerved you, because it felt like he was stripping back the layers of your soul to bare you to his gaze.

“Ah, of course.”

Your heels made a satisfying click click click noise on the marble tiles of the lobby as the two of you walked to the doors of the office building to exit. Seeing as there was no doorman, you moved to open the door for your boss. As soon as you were about to grip the silver handle, a warm hand covered yours.

“Allow me,” Jaehyun murmured softly from behind you.

He opened the door easily, and his rippling suit hinted at the powerful muscles underneath. You thanked him quietly, your voice now a bit lower and deeper, rougher in texture than you expected, and stepped out into the cloudy day. His calloused touch was still burning on your fingertips.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Mr. Jung, would you like coffee or tea at the moment? You seem quite fatigued,” your voice broke the smooth tap tap tap noises of his keyboard, and he looked up from his desktop. You had come out of your office to drop off some files in need of signing, but Jaehyun’s tired visage prompted your concern.

Jaehyun stopped and leaned his elbows on the table, and rubbed his face. His shoulders slumped down tiredly, then he sighed. The stress of a month end closing and a new merger deal along with a bunch of other things was weighing heavily on his rather broad shoulders. Consequentially, you had a heavier workload also and you were barely coping as it was with the influx of activity.

“That would be great, please. Gao Shan would be wonderful,” he yawned and stood up, stretching the sinuous muscles you were sure he had. The Tom Ford ensemble you had helped pick out a few weeks ago rippled in the delaying sunlight, the silk reflecting its warmth. In turn, it gave his silhouette an ethereal glow that made him seem like some unattainable epitome of perfection.

You bent down put down your files on his coffee table, and he turned towards you. You shivered from his intense scrutiny on your backside, but quickly got out the elaborately decorated canister the expensive tea leaves were located in. While waiting for the water to heat up, you picked up the files from the coffee table and went to hand it to him. Meanwhile, his gaze never wavered from you. Your heels were muffled against the velvety carpet as you strode through Jaehyun.

“These are the contracts I just received from Vermidelli regarding the outsourcing of the computer chip manufacturing. Our legal team has went over this, and just require your approval for it to go through,” you pointed out.

“Thank you Miss Y/L/N.” Did this man ever let up from his charm? The times he called you “Miss Y/L/N” made your knees weak, and you just wanted to…

No. There was a reason why you were here, and it was not to lust over the man in front of you.

“One of the pending clauses—” the whistle of the kettle interrupted you.

“Excuse me for a moment, sir.”

Once again you could feel his eyes on you as you stirred in the tea leaves. You wish it were his hands that replaced his stare, so they could rove over your body and never, ever let up.

Your skirt and blouse suddenly felt tight, and it was definitely not of the air conditioning.

_______________________________________________________________________

Gossip around the office was that you were the longest lasting secretary in forever. Whispers reached your ear— Mr. Jung fired Miss Young earlier this year because she tried to give him a strip tease— oh? I heard Miss Y/L/N is lasting pretty long but she won’t be here for long— Jaehyun laid the HR manager off because she got too touchy— and various things like that.

Yes, you were hired in a hurry. There was only a brief interview before you were selected as the personal secretary of the CEO. At first, you thought it was because of your highly competent skills and valuable experience, and that was partly true. You were a graduate of a good university with a degree in international relations, but you had trouble in finding employment for a female straight out of college. Many said you “weren’t the right fit for the company” or “your particular skill set wasn’t needed” but you could see through their bullshit: you were female. The many rejections forced you to search for a job you were over-qualified for, and this led you to become an administrative assistant.

However, after looking at Jaehyun’s track record with his secretaries, you were sure you were hired because his past secretaries had been extremely… unprofessional.

You really couldn’t fall in love with your boss, because there was no chance in hell he would accept your advances and  would probably fire you on the spot. Besides, it was all so improper; however, Jaehyun was making this goal harder than it needed to be.

_______________________________________________________________________

A few weeks afterwards you, again, had to attend yet another business meeting.

Many soft or accidental brushes were exchanged now since those incidents a few weeks ago.

Your already formidable attraction only grew exponentially. Whenever you were near him, the air between you seemed to vibrate with tension. Even the tiniest of his movements sent shocks of pleasure through your body, and your normal functions were hard to carry out whenever you were near Jaehyun.

The chauffeur’s voice announcing your arrival yanked you out of your thoughts. Jaehyun leaned forward and accidentally laid his hand on your thigh in the effort to steady himself. You blushed heavily and the peaks of your breasts stood to attention.

He seemed to notice after a few seconds and apologized quickly in that lush tenor of his, but the damage was already done. Your lace panties were already permeated with moisture.

The two of you got out of the sleek vehicle you were riding and stepped onto the sidewalk. As usual, his powerful stride was hard to catch up to and just a few steps out, your high-heeled pumps stumbled over a crack. You gasped and pulled your tablet and files to your chest as you prepared to land painfully on the concrete, but two hands steadied you. You felt his hands through your blazer and work skirt, his hand supporting your elbow and lightly brushing your waist. The hair on the back of your neck stood to stood to attention and you gritted your teeth to suppress the shudder you felt going through you. Your hand found purchase of his oxford shirt-covered chest, and you could feel his heat and heartbeat just as well as you could feel his touch on you.

“Are you alright, Miss Y/L/N?”

Somehow, his words asked a lot more.

_______________________________________________________________________

You got home after work. Once, his touches only lingered for a few minutes, but now, they were a constant fixture for a few hours. The warmth of his hands on your arm and waist were still there.

You kicked off your pumps at the door of your apartment, and your aching feet felt the cooling sensation of your wood floors and you sighed with relief. You placed your keys on the counter, work bag on the couch and progressively stripped off your work attire until you were only in your lace bra and silk camisole, leaving a trail of rumpled clothes throughout your house.

After the meeting today, work was frenzied as the preparations for the upcoming merger were being put into place. You were pulled this way and that way, called by everyone from the CFO to the head of the implementation team. Your normally focused and hard working attitude was slightly off kilter because of your boss, and your fellow secretaries noticed. Notes of concern were voiced, while others gave you knowing glances that you desperately wanted to wipe of their faces. They had no right; while they were only exposed to Jaehyun in passing, you were by his side, day by day. They had no goddamn right to smirk at you when you conveyed the words of your boss to them. They had no goddamn right.

You lied in your comfy bed, staring out at the neon lights of the city. You had to get your mind off this man.

You mindlessly flipped through the various TV channels when suddenly the trailer of Fifty Shades of Grey appeared on your screen. The dowdy Anastasia Steele and handsome Christian Grey flickered into your vision and you looked on, hypnotized by their tempestuous dalliance. At the back of your mind, Jaehyun’s face replaced Christian’s, and you—

Click.

You turned the TV off in a hurry, breathing heavily. Why… why were you thinking that?

You rubbed your face, then set down the remote. You laid your head down on your pillow, and wrapped your shivering limbs in your sheets.

The moment you shut your eyes, Jaehyun’s face appeared in your mind. He smirked at you, and the look in his eyes were indescribable. He shifted closer to you until you could smell his cologne.

Trouble, Miss Y/L/N? He breathed seductively.

Your hands, seemingly out your control, slipped down to your panties. You shut your eyes even tighter, and your fingers brushed up upon your clit. You felt the tips of your fingers become coated in wetness as you steepled your fingers into your warmth.

You groaned softly in the silence of your bedroom. If you focused hard enough, you could feel Jaehyun’s broad frame above yours, his fingers replacing yours. He whispered in your ears sensuous and sinful things with that throaty tenor of his, and you rubbed your clit faster and faster and faster.

You reached your release quickly, and your back arched off of the bed and a high pitched whine left your throat. The climax enveloped you in a haze of euphoria and every sensation you felt felt heightened by this high. Your previously needed sheets felt constricting, and the silence of your apartment became deafening. Your chest heaved up and down, the peaks of your breasts prominent through the thin silk of your camisole.

The implications of your fantasy finally came through your bliss-addled brain when you calmed down. Oh no. This was never supposed to happen. Of all the men you could’ve picked to fantasize fucking you, why did it have to be your boss? The most unattainable man in the world? The one you couldn’t and shouldn’t be allowed to be with? Why?

This had to stop.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Mr. Jung?” you called out quietly after knocking on the door.

There was a slight sound of acknowledgement from his desk near the window as Jaehyun was scanning over some documents.

“May I speak with you for a minute, sir?” you struggled to keep your voice from quaking in fear. Your palms suddenly felt sweaty and the letter in your hands burned.

Jaehyun took off his reading glasses and looked directly at you.

“Yes, of course, what’s the matter Miss Y/L/N?” He sounded so very concerned.

Instead of answering promptly to him, you handed the envelope to him. He furrowed his brows in confusion while you sat down in the plush leather armchair in front of his desk.

He read through the contents of your letter and the crease between his eyebrows got deeper. You stared at him, fidgeting quietly with your hands and Louboutin-clad foot tapping nervously on the carpet. Silence permeated strongly.

“I… see.”

He fixed you a stare deep in your eyes, stripping back every layer in your being until you were exposed to him, naked and bare.

“Tell me: what were the particular circumstances surrounding your decision to leave?”

He sounded unreadable at the moment, and his posture was stiff. You couldn’t decipher his mood at the moment like you usually could, so attuned to his wants and needs.

“I… Mr. Jung, I felt like… I didn’t fit well within the environment of the company and… I wanted to pursue other things.”

“Ah” he went silent for a few seconds, “well, your time at the company was… pleasurable and you will… be missed.”

You nodded and rose to your feet. He, too, stretched out his frame behind his desk and shook your hand while his ardent gaze seared into your brain.

_______________________________________________________________________

The two weeks passed by in a blur. The shocking decision of your resignation resonated through all levels of the company. Everyone from the lowliest accountant to the CFO greeted you goodbye. The janitor shook your hand goodbye, your fellow secretaries hugged you goodbye, and even some executives thanked you for your hard work. It was a big surprise, because usually whenever the CEO’s secretaries left the company, the big boss himself forced them to leave, not the other way around.

On your last day, the coworkers you were particularly close to threw you a goodbye party, and many people surprisingly came. There was cake and some non-alcoholic bubbly was brought out, while you mingled around. It was a departure on good terms. There were many hugs and handshakes and “good lucks” passed to along to you.

You felt a hand upon your shoulder as you were talking to a marketing guy.

“May I steal her away for a moment?”

Jaehyun.

You hadn’t seen him alot, surprisingly, for the last two weeks. He was out of the country for most of the period, visiting the Seo main offices in the US, while you were left to carry out his daily tasks.

The marketing dude nodded and agreed happily, before turning away to get some of the red velvet cake on the table.

“Miss Y/L/N—”

“Please, call me Y/N. I’m leaving soon, remember?” you laughed, in a jocund mood from all the merriment and cheer you were exposed to today.

His face from above you reflected surprise, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Oh sure, erm, y/n. I suppose you could call me by my first name, afterall. Could you meet me in my office afterwards?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. Why would he want to meet with you again? You did not want to be tormented with his presence any longer. He was the goddamn reason you were leaving.

“Oh yeah, of course!” you nodded.

“I’ll see you there,” Jaehyun gave you a slight grin and slinked off into the crowd.

As the party died down, you received more hugs and handshakes and pleads to keep in contact. You put on your caramel coat from the Koople’s, and your saffiano leather bag from Prada. There was no need to carry your personal belongings out in boxes, because all your stuff from your work cubicle were in your car already.

Your heels, probably for the last time, made a click click click on the marble tiles of the hallway leading to your boss’ office. You creaked open the door, and saw him sitting on a settee facing the glorious view of the city skyline.

His head swiveled to you, the sunlight reflecting of his aristocratic features.

“Y/n, do come in and sit.”

He stood up with a glass of brandy in his hands and walked towards the small table with a decanter on the counter, his long lean legs giving a leisurely quality to his stride. You removed your coat and sat down on the settee he had previously occupied. The silk of your Sandro dress rose up on your legs a bit as you sat, and it left your shoulders bare to the cold air conditioner of the office. You stared impassively at the sunset: why in the name of hell were you sitting in his office?

“Brandy?”

You turned your head towards him holding up a J. & L. Lobmeyr glass that he was gifted with when you accompanied him to Austria.

“Yes, that would be delightful.”

He poured you some aged brandy and handed it to you in the glass. His hand brushed yours in the process, reminding you of the many brushes and gazes you two shared over the 10 months of employment.

He settled across you on the curved settee, while you crossed and uncrossed your leg out of nervousness.

“The reason I brought you was here was that I’d like to whole-heartedly thank you for your impressive performance while employed here. You were a great employee and never once went off task, and your organizational skills improved my workload much more than previous,” Jaehyun put his arm over the couch and his sinewous frame caught your  attention. He took a sip of his brandy and subjected your figure to his scrutiny.

Huh. You never thought that your professional boss would be one to hand out compliments, but here he was. You felt very flattered, a blush covered your cheeks.

“Thank you, Mr—”

“Call me, Jaehyun, y/n.

“Of course, of course… Jaehyun,” you shifted a bit uncomfortably.

All of the sudden, his eyes narrowed at you. His relaxed posture suddenly vanished as he leaned towards you aggressively.

“However, I have a question for you.”

You looked into his eyes, for the first time since you met him.

“Why did you leave?”

Shit.

“I… stated it on the 2 Week notice. I just felt like I wasn’t a good fit, and—”

“No. Really, why did you quit this job?”

You rose up suddenly off the settee in nervousness, and walked towards the glass display.

“I…”

“Don’t give me that bullshit you stated on your letter. Why would you, one of the most competent and successful people to walk into this building, want to quit?”

You heard the clink of glass on glass as he set his glass of brandy down, and the near inaudible squeak of the settee as he got up.

“Didn’t fit in? You were one of the most beloved people in the whole fucking office. No one but those other secretarial staff disliked you, y/n, and they were just jealous.”

You closed your eyes in pain, and the brandy glass you held was gripped tightly. You closed your body language off to him, so he could be unable to view the roiling emotions inside you.

“Potential prospects? Please. Even if you were just a secretary, you were geared to be promoted to the job you had wanted in the company.”

His voice got closer and closer to you as you refused to look back at him. As usual, your heightened senses could sense him with great magnitude, and you did not want to answer this question.

“I’ve thought of every possibility of why you resigned. Every option was not viable with your situation so tell me: Why. Did. You. Leave. Me?” He whispered in your ear, each syllable was enunciated clearly and crisply. Now you could feel his heat behind you, and he was probably only like what… 1? 2? Feet away from you?

There was a taut silence that stretched on between of you, but the pressure of his stare on the back of your head was harsh. The brandy glass you nursed in your palm was now shaking, along with the rest of your body.

“You,” you gritted out.

“You and your fucking touches, your fucking eyes, just… everything! You… all of you…made me resign to get the the hell away from you,” you burst out, turning around to him. He still had an impassive expression on his face.

A tear slipped down your cheek, from the embarrassment of having an inappropriate attraction to your boss and from the humiliation of having to blurt out your secret desires to the man who was your superior for many months.

“Are you happy know? Huh? That you finally know the reason?” you blurted out angrily.

He said nothing.

You moved to get past him to flee, but his palms against the glass window prevented you from moving.

You tilted your head up to yell at him, to ask him why the fuck he was blocking your way, when you suddenly felt those enticing lips pressed on yours.

Your brandy glass dropped to the ground and spilled its contents near you, but did not break because of the carpet. Your form melted into his as he pressed you against the glass, his lips searing into yours. You felt alive and high, and only knew you wanted more of his touch. You were now chest to chest, and you could feel his rigid chest pressing against your breasts.

After you ran out of breath, he forced you to look up at him again with his thumb and forefinger. His gaze was smouldering now.

“Did you ever consider, Y/N, that I may have wanted you too? Hm?” he grated out, his voice rougher and deeper than you’ve ever heard it.

Your slightly teary eyes widened at the man up above you.

He quickly resumed his previous actions, and trailed kisses down your neck in frightening haste. He was desperate in his quest, each kiss intense and fleeting.

“The day… you came in here… I knew… you were going… to be… trouble. You came in with… those… fucking pencil skirts… and those heels… fuck.”

You ground your warmth into the knee he had put between your legs and he groaned into your collarbones. Your head was tilted up in pleasure and contentment on having this god lavish his attention on you.

His fingers— a pianist’s finger, long and sinuous— unbuttoned the back of your dress while your hands tangled in his coiffed hair, and your dress slipped down onto the floor, keeping you in your garter stockings and lingerie.

“You… fucking… tease. You knew… what you were doing… with that body of yours… and fuck… I love this get up you have… only wear it for me… baby girl…”

You groaned in contentment as you slipped off his bespoke suit jacket made for him, and you moved to get his oxford shirt off. He rubbed circles into your hips as he scattered bruises across your collarbones and chest. His teeth nipped and sucked with a desperation you never knew he had; after all, what more could he ever want?

You eventually got his shirt and undershirt off, leaving his fit torso to your perusal. Each contour of his chest was well-defined, with an Apollo’s belt and happy trail leading down beneath his trousers. Under your attention, his tight trousers suddenly got tighter as his erection strained beneath its confines.

He lifted you up easily bridal-style, and laid you down on the couch. He was towering over you, just like your dream from a few nights ago, except it was real.

“You’re like a fucking gift, all wrapped up nice and pretty for me… do you want me to open it up, baby girl?”

You moaned your approval as he pressed the heel of his palm against your core, veins popping out in his forearm.

Jaehyun trailed his hand from your hair to your bra strap. He quickly unclasped your lacy confection of a bra and threw it across the room. He attacked your breasts hungrily, and laved his tongue across your soft breaths but never where you wanted it.

“Jaehyun!”

You could feel his smirk as he finally brushed his tongue once, twice, to the tips of your breasts. You made a guttural noise.

He trailed his mouth across your stomach as his hands were playing with the straps of your garter, when he finally reached your panties. He thumbed you through your panties and you tugged him and moaned into his muscled shoulder.

“Moan for me, baby, that’s it.”

He hooked his fingers through your panties and ripped them off. You looked down at him angrily, but he merely smirked.

“I can buy you tons more for next time.”

His tongue, like your breasts, circled around the entrance to your heat but never once touching your clit. After a few seconds of torment, he finally touched you clit. Your thighs squeezed his head in pleasure as you gasped. He added his fingers in to delve into your heat, heightening your pleasure. You half screamed, half moaned when it suddenly became all too much, and your juices flooded out.

He drew away, wiping his lips sexily, as your rib cage heaved up and down from the intense orgasm. He unzipped his trousers and his hard length slipped out and he stroked it a few times to smear his precum for lubrication.

“Get ready for me, baby.”

He entered you roughly, and you both moaned. His was thick, thicker than any previous you had as your walls clenched and unclenched around him.

His thrusts were powerful as he pounded you against the couch. You whined pitifully into his neck.

“You’ve wanted this, huh? Your boss fucking you in his office. C’mon, baby girl, you can do better than that. Moan for me.”

Your moans got louder as you could feel the pleasure overtake you, envelop you in a haze of euphoria and lust, and the only thing you could feel was his heat and his manhood thrusting in and out of you.

“Another one.”

He thrusted hard in you, and you screamed, the sound ricocheted off the walls of his office. It nearly defeaned you but again, you could only think about Jaehyun.

How could you disobey him? Maybe it was an ingrained instinct that made you obey everything he asked.

His thrusts soon lost its previous rhythmic pattern and he moaned into your chest. You grew close to your unraveling, a feeling built up in your stomach.

“Y/n… shit, I—fuck, you feel so good.”

He spilled into you with a loud groan, while you muffled your scream into his shoulder. Your walls tightened immediately after you could feel his warm liquid inside you, his length pulsating.

You both settled down, and he quickly adjusted your positions so he wouldn’t crush you.

He wrapped his arms around you, and you both basked in each other’s presence and warmth. You felt sated and like a huge weight had been relieved of you, one weight that had been there for months. Your body felt tender and sore, and you knew it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow. If only this moment would last forever.

“Please… don’t leave me,” Jaehyun mumbled into your hair.

You looked up at him. “Baby, I’ve already resigned.”

He huffed, frustrated. “No, I mean… don’t leave my side. Be my girlfriend? Be mine?” His eyes softened when he gazed into yours.

You smiled, and pressed a kiss on his sharp jaw.

“Of course I will.”

(A/N: i was thinking of anon’s CEO! Doyoung request and this would not dislodge itself from my brain so like here you go while i hit up that priest and dunk myself in holy water)

[cyoza]

adrenaline

okay so we can all agree that ep 5 has been the best one so far of the season so I tried to something from that 

I did try to get a little dirtier but honestly I couldn’t get in the mind frame, even after 2 glasses of scotch so aqui estamos! that being said, i feel like my last couple of chapters were focused on big horny Kory energy so I’ve at least tried to flip that around.

as per, please like, comment reblog if you like it! thanks!! 

part two 

part three 

part four 

part five 

part six 

*******************************************************************************************

The mood back at HQ was indescribable. Somehow electric from the residual energy but sombre due to everyone’s exhaustion yet triumphant from their win. Safe to say the drive back was tense and silent. Arguably due to Jason being passed out in the backseat meaning he couldn’t fill the car with his nonsensical babbling.  That being said, the relief over him being okay was the premier emotion, everyone knowing how badly this could have ended. 

Dick and Hank had taken responsibility for him, carrying him from the car to the infirmary. They settled him with what was essentially a baby monitor so that they could keep an eye on him but still recuperate; any movement or change would send an immediate alert to Dick’s phone. He had sustained a lot of injuries, which meant that the night ahead could potentially be a long one; everything would be touch and go to make sure he didn’t succumb to any injuries from his fall. Though Jason would probably never admit it, the trauma of the night would more than likely haunt him for a very long time to come. 

Dick knew that more than anyone.

He had insisted Rachel and Gar go to bed, having to nearly twist Gar’s arm to leave Rose to get some rest ensuring him she would be okay now that everyone was back. Kory had been in the shower for the last 15 minutes, meaning she would be out soon but for now Dick was alone in the living room, bar the miserable company of the glass of whiskey in his hand. He let out a deep sigh before gulping down a mouthful, the liquid leaving a burning trail down his throat. He hoped more than anything it would at least allow him to unwind a little, the remnants of adrenaline still coursing through him fiercely. 

Tonight had been a cyclone of pure shit and he had no one to blame but himself. He couldn’t seem to make the right decisions no matter how hard he tried. Because of him Rachel was in crisis, Rose and Jason were in the infirmary, not to mention how tumultuous the rest of his relationships were and if it wasn’t for Kory, they’d probably all be dead.

Kory..

The thought of her had him instinctively taking another sip, swigging the last of it. He prayed that it would slow down the leap in his heart rate but all it was currently doing was aiding in raising the heat that was stirring under the collar of his navy t shirt. He’d never seen anyone move so fluidly and so effortlessly with such power. Donna had once joked that he had a ‘thing for dangerous women’ and after tonight it would be difficult to deny it with vim. He felt himself slide down his chair slightly as he remembered more from the fight, allowing himself to do so now he knew everyone was safe and sound; at least for now. He allowed himself to remember how strong her arms looked blocking the bullets from Deathstroke. Allowed himself to think about how powerful and lithe her body looked as she flew out of the window after Jason to catch him in her arms. How positively ethereal she looked as she lifted him back to safety. He always knew Kory was exquisite but tonight was something else, something he could never hope to imagine. 

‘Comfortable there, Grayson?’ 

Kory’s voice jolted him back up to a sitting position, causing him to almost drop his glass. He glanced up at her to scold her jokingly but found his mouth too dry to speak at the sight of her. She wore nothing but one of his button up shirts, her hair freshly blow dried to maximum fluffiness; all in all, she looked utterly irresistible

‘Dick? Hey, are you okay?’ Her voice broke his revere, summoning his gaze back her eyes where he met her worried gaze. 

‘Yeah, yeah. Sorry, its uh, it's been a long night.’ He apologised, setting down the glass on the coffee table next to him. 

He watched as she took the seat opposite him, trying to ignore how the light from the lamp highlighted the muscular shape of her thighs as the shirt lifted. 

‘No pyjamas?’ He inquired. 

‘No, I was kind of in a rush to get back so I didn’t have the time and this is the first thing I could find when I came out of the shower. You don’t mind do you?’ She raised an eyebrow, as if she was daring him to object. 

‘No, of course not. You’re good.’ He cleared his throat before speaking again. ‘So..’ was his marvelous start. 

‘So…?’ Kory continued, questioningly. 

‘Uh, long night. And you can fly! When, um, did you find that out?’ 

‘Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that actually. I got a...jump start in getting my memories back recently and that was one of the things that I remembered.’ She shrugged it off as if it were nothing, as if she hadn’t saved multiple lives tonight. ‘That was the first time I’ve done it since. I don’t know, I saw Jason fall and next thing I knew he was in my arms. Call it instinct, I guess. I was as surprised as you were. But you - You’re not Robin anymore but you sure still have his moves.’ 

‘Yeah, you think so? Well, I try.’ He responded, her praise sent a warm prickling sensation all over his body. 

‘I’m sure you do.’ She smiled at him as she held his gaze, a smile of a siren, sultry and downright enticing. ‘You know, I forgot how good of a team we are. How well we work together. It was nice to be reminded.’ 

The air surrounding them seemed to be static, the electricity between them palpable in the room and the voltage seemed to ascend exponentially the longer they looked at each other. Kory was the one who broke the bubble, standing to make her way over to him. Dick could feel the typhoon of desire rising within him, like tumbling clouds and he knew it was only a matter of time that the feeling would tsunami him. Especially if Kory kept moving the way she was moving. Thankfully, she placed herself on the arm of his chair, far enough that he could at least form some relatively rational thoughts. But then she leaned over him, stupefying him as the sweet, rosy billow of her shampoo and conditioner. Kory grabbed the glass he’d been drinking out of and filled it halfway before throwing it back in one swallow. 

‘It’s no fun to drink by yourself. You’re not going to get in your head tonight, Grayson, I’m gonna make sure of that.’ She announced with conviction. 

Dick looked up at her, the alcohol making itself known at this point and giving him the liquid courage he needed to do what he did next. In all the recent events and tribulations, Dick had forgotten who he was. Kory frequently rendered him powerless to her but it was time he reminded himself and her of the attractive, tactful man he was. So he wound his arm around her waist and pulled her down into his lap, prompting a surprise squeal from Kory as she tipped backwards, her legs now placed over the arm of the chair. 

‘Oh? And how do you expect to do that, Miss Anders?’ He whispered, pulling her closer to him so she was flush against him. 

‘Why don’t you give me some suggestions...Mr Grayson.’ Kory’s face couldn’t have been more than a few inches from his, giving him perfect access for his following move. 

Dick seized her lips with his own in one swift move, revelling in how velvety they were and Kory matched his energy, kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm as he gave her. She lifted her arms to drape them over his shoulders, her hands landing at the nape of his neck to sieve through the tufts of hair there. The slight tug she gave them evoking a pleased grunt from him, his hips jerking instinctually. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to take her right there and then on the spot. 

Normally Dick was more patient, more explorative in his ministrations, but with the way the Kory was shifting in his lap and the exhilaration from the night coupled with the whiskey, he rushed to undo the buttons of the shirt she was wearing. 

It was Kory again who broke their mutual trance, pulling back from the kiss to halt his hands before he opened more than the two buttons he’d unclasped. 

‘Ah, we can’t do this here. I can’t have someone walking through here and catching us.’ 

And much to his dismay, she slid off his lap and stood towering over his position in the chair. He began to protest but was cut short when she continued to liberate the rest of the buttons, drawing open the collar of the shirt and permitting him a peek of the supple curve of her bare breasts. 

‘So? Shall we continue this in the bedroom, Mr Grayson?’ 

Well, he didn’t need to be asked twice.

[scars-of-the-hart]

Mass Effect 3FF: Say Never

This is an alternate ending fic based on my largely Paragon FemShep/Garrus play thru. I spared the rachni, enlightened the Geth, and absolutely adored the Krogan species/culture so I cured the Genophage. Her first name is Moria.  It picks up right as Shepard’s three choices are laid out by the Conduit. Take a read. Let me know your thoughts

“Add your energy to the Crucible's. Everything you are will be absorbed, and then sent out… The chain reaction will combine all synthetic and organic life into a new framework. A new...DNA.The cycle will end. Synthesis is the final evolution of life, but we need each other to make it happen.”

The silence was strange. All was quiet in the void as the lights danced before her. A mixture of radiant bursts and slow drifting shadows. Too many bright blossoms of light appeared over Earth as the forces she had gathered dwindled in number...and far, far too few Reapers burned, were torn apart, or drifted with the debris of the battle. The wavering lights and shadows were cut by a bright streak as a ship shot across the sky. There was a flash of light from the looming dark of a Reaper to its rear, and an answering halo of fire, countless lives snuffed out without so much as a whisper.

She felt small. She didn’t usually think about this kind of shit. Focusing on her position, her terrain, her enemy, had always been preferable. Things were more manageable one shot at a time.  But now...

Another small explosion lit the sky. Had that been the Normandy? Or had her ship and all its crew already burned away from this world without her noticing. You would feel that, right? Somehow something in her ravaged organic body would have sensed when that happened, right? Maybe if she were Assari…but she was sure, a human -if that’s what she still was at this point - would continue on in blissful ignorance until the crushing truth found them.

Synthesis. It was why she was alive. Why she hadn’t died in the loss of the first Normandy. Well, hadn’t died permanently. You would think that dying, and coming back would change things for you…but. But it hadn’t really. Maybe that shock in Garrus’ face...the pain, the rage, the relief and scrambled composure that had swept across his scaled countenance had changed things. Made her risk her best friend and strongest teammate to see if there was something more. But the problem with dying and coming back was….it had just happened to her. It hadn’t been a choice. And in the quiet of the night, in the lulls between the thrums of the Normandy’s engines, in her, until recently, too empty and too quiet cabin or a long walk down a hall, the whispering questions had followed her. What would she have chosen? Given the chance….

Would it have been better for him? To lose a comrade?A loss he’d borne before. A pain she’d helped him shoulder. Maybe one he wondered about, or thought about, if she flattered herself. But just another soldier. Another friend. Not… It sure as fuck would have made this easier for her. She wouldn’t have this ache, hear his order ringing in her ears, see the pain and rage that had burned in his eyes as the shuttle doors closed. Oh, well, yeah. She’d have none of that because she wouldn’t be here. She’d already be in the quiet and cold. Or the bar, I guess. But with no one to wait for.  Dying hadn’t changed her. But choosing, choosing him had.

“You have a difficult decision,” the Child’s wavering voice brought her back. Her head felt heavy. Her hand, where it pressed against the new opening in her torso was dripping wet. Not a good sign. Sticky hands. That’s what you wanted when you were bleeding out. Nice sticky hands that would be a bitch to clean later as clots formed and kept your insides on your insides. Not a slick red glove.

“But it’s not mine,” she groaned. 

“I do not understand.”

“Synthesis might be the final evolution. But it’s not my choice to make.”

“You are here, You communed with the beacon, with Sovereign. You are the one who will choose. Organics in the past were not ready. You have accelerated your own natural evolution.”

She laughed darkly, and regretted it instantly as her abdomen flaired with pain, and the trickle thickened. “A lab full of scientists accelerated my evolution. I just happened to be there.”

“It is immaterial. Your body has accepted the synthetics and grown with them. And as a, what you call “biotic,” you were already born bearing the positive genetic markers of organics paralleling synthetic evolution.”

“I don’t have enough blood to puzzle out what the fuck you mean,” Shepard growled.

“Biotics are the beginning of organic networks. Energy that connects you to the outside world beyond the range of your physical boundaries. Capable of affecting the exterior, and accessing information. The more advanced species of each cycle have born signs of it. Evidence of the eventual evolution to synthesis.”

“If there are signs of it then why not leave us the fuck alone and let us get to the final point?” She couldn't tell if her head was pounding from rage at the Child or lack of blood. Not that it mattered. It just hurt.

“That is not a viable solution. Synthetic evolution is too rapid. Exponential technological advancements leave no time for the gradual process of organic evolution. In this cycle the Geth have already advanced and decimated organics.”

“But I brokered a peace with the Geth.”

“It will not hold. Synthetics must evolve necessary understanding of organic cognitive and emotional processes.”

“But some of them have. Legion fought alongside us. And then he gave up his individual existence to give the Geth free will and consciousness. They have been fighting with us against you. Against your Reapers. Even they didn’t want to be controlled. The Reapers probably don’t want to either!”

“Recent progress of some synthetics in this cycle is remarkable. However, it does not matter. The progress was too late.”

“Or you and this bullshit was too early! You don’t know everything - you have admitted it. You didn’t know the Crucible had stuck around. You didn’t know Legion would exist.”

“A single anomaly within synthetics-”

“But he’s not an anomaly,” Shepard groaned, sinking to one knee. She supposed it was stupid to plead like this, eye to eye, with the Child. It had doubtless picked an arbitrary form designed to communicate with a female human, it’s awareness certainly wasn’t limited to it’s field of vision. But kneeling meant not pumping blood so hard and far and quickly out of her body, so she supposed it was worth it. “An AI, EDI, is learning too. Developing feelings. Dating my fucking pilot. She’s said that she would risk non functionality for a human. If that’s not cognitive -emotional -whatever then I don’t know what is. It’s probably happening elsewhere! So stop this and let us finish it.”

“Organic development will still be too slow. Infighting among organics retards your evolutionary growth. What you call the genophage is clear evidence of this. Krogan reproduction and therefore evolution all but halted by other organics.”

“But we fixed that too! And Salarians accelerated their evolution first! It’s life. It’s history, its messy and imperfect but it happens and changes. My species and Turians fought each other for years but in only my lifetime,” she was breathing heavily now. She closed her eyes cursing the feelings suddenly sweeping through her. Cutting through the battle haze she’d been able to slink into through her anger at the Child. She was tired, tired and small. “In my short, insignificant lifetime we have had peace. And -” she glared at the Child. She was embarrassed! It was ridiculous. She was as good as dead and yet felt silly saying the words to a damn ancient genocidal asshole artificial intelligence, “and one of them loves me. So you’re going to stop the Reapers. You are going to stop all this and leave us alone. Or I’m going to find the processing equivalent of your face and shoot you in it.”

“We have told you that destruction is an option and will wipe out all synthetics and complex robotics.” the Child replied. 

Great. She didn’t even get the satisfaction of having a threat taken seriously before she died.  If the galaxy could see the great “Shepard” now. Not even able to scare a child. “Then stop them like I told you to.”

“We are not equipped with that function. The Crucible additions allow for another to control and bypass our programming. We have no alternative pathways on our own. Once commenced, the Reaping will continue until all advanced species are harvested to make way for the evolution of the primitive. You may create the control pathway as I have said. I have learned from our dialogue. But I have already stated your choices. You must choose now.” 

“No!” she panted, “I - I can’t accept that, there has to be another way.”

“We have stated the three paths open. A choice must be made.”

“Damn your choices!” she yelled, and then began coughing.

“I advise you to choose before your organic limitations prevent you from being able to.”

“Why me?!!!!”

“You are a template of biotic and synthetic evolution. And you chose to engage with us repeatedly. Your template is necessary. The complete breakdown and dispersal of your DNA is necessary to direct the energy of the beam. Synthesis will reawaken the organic memory of those harvested. It will fuse with the synthetic and give new life to those harvested. This is why the harvest has been essential. So that the progress of each cycle was not lost.”

“NO! They just died in fear and pain and watched their world be destroyed!  And no one even remembered it!”

“Their suffering is immaterial when they are preserved. This is why synthesis is optimal.” “I can’t make that choice for everyone. What if they don’t want to?”

“It is inevitable. And reaping is the only other option.”

“That is what the Salarians and the Turians thought about the Krogan. And they were wrong! For something that is meant to be more intelligent and has had eternity to learn you must be pretty stupid to be stuck in the same mistake made in this cycle!”

“The solution is known but the link cannot be established without new a Conduit. One that is both synthetic and organic. This will be the pathway. Now or in another cycle. Perhaps you are not sufficiently evolved to-”

“Perhaps your head is too far-” but her weakening tirade was cut off by a sound. The first sound other than her and the conduit's voice in quite some time. She struggled to look over her shoulder in time to take in something that took the little breath in her lungs away. 

The Normandy landed on the floor of the Crucible and before the door was fully open a

figure in blue armor was lumbering towards her. She didn’t know it was possible for a heart to soar and plummet at the same time. But her’s did. Others streamed out of the hangar of the Normandy behind the blue-clad warrior. They fell into familiar formations, weapons out.

Upon seeing them the Child’s brow furrowed. “Distractions are not permissible. A pathway must be selected. They will be removed,” and it winked out of existence. Shepard felt a rumble in the Citadel beneath her and a chilling, and all too familiar shrieking cry filled the air.  The Normandy’s crew had begun firing. Light from their blasters and the wavering brilliance of Javik and Liara’s biotics mirrored that of the larger battle still unfolding behind them. She should be worried, she thought. But all she could summon at this point was irritation. She was so tired. And what was a wave of Husks in the face of the horrible choices laid before her? She could stop it all. Wasn’t that what she had wanted? The answer to the fears, the nightmares, that chased her gasping from sleep for weeks? That conjured images in her mind of blue armor with far too large a hole...or a Marauder with blue clan tattoos and scars.

“Shepard!” His roar of her name was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard, and filled her with dread. He skidded to a halt in front of her, dropping to his knees. She could tell by the way he moved, and the dark soak of the bandages visible though his wrecked armor that the collapse was not entirely voluntary. She had been right. He’d been hit. Badly. The minute he arrived at her side she reached out instinctively to apply pressure and check her soldier for other wounds. His hands caught hers, and she could tell by his scanning eyes that he was doing the same. They widened at the sight of the wound in her side. He moved her hands back against her side with heartbreaking delicacy and folded his own over them. 

“The hell are you doing here?” she gasped as he applied pressure to their stacked hands. A finger gently running over the top of hers.

His breathing was labored, and not from his run to her side. “I might have taken some heat, but you didn’t honestly think I would let you take all the glory?” he rasped with a smirk. His eyes searched her again, “Glad to see you’ve only got two more holes than I do. I can catch up.” he added the wicked gleam in his eyes almost, but not quite hiding the fear she could see there as well.

She laughed or coughed, she wasn’t quite sure.The pressure of his hands increased and she saw the muscles around his mandibles tighten.  “Can you blame a girl for trying? You said scars were hot.”

He glared at her. But his lip twitched. “Yeah, but I like the contrast of the scars against the rest of you. So can you just try to stay in one piece? Please?” and then earnestly, and without any humor whispered gently, ”please….”

“Why are you here?” she repeated, “especially if you’re-”

“We could see that the Crucible was charged but nothing was happening. We waited a while but finally we figured we’d better come see if you need someone who was a better shot to come finish things off for you.”

She squinted at him, “I won Vakarian.” she wheazed, “when are you gonna get over it.”

She was sweating a little now despite the perfectly temperate air. More great news. He lifted a hand to wipe some of the sweat and matted hair from her forehead and rumbled, “Never.”

The clanging of metal on the Citadel floor announced EDI’s arrival. 

“Shepard,” EDI said, squatting before her in a surprisingly human fashion and glancing sideways at her, rifle up and trained on something in the distance. “It is good to see you. Although our chances of survival have dropped by 200 percent by coming here.”

“And you didn’t stop him from dragging you into increasingly certain doom?” She asked incredulously, spitting the end of her sentence with as much venom (which was pathetically little) at the Turian beside her. He merely snorted.

“No,” said EDI, “ I do not fully comprehend. I have run many analyses’. It is difficult to describe but when referencing my library of human idioms the one with the most appropriate meaning seems to be that... “It didn’t feel right.”

“EDI, I’m really touched that you care about me, but I’m gonna kill you if you get everyone, especially this idiot,” Garrus growled, “killed because of it.” Shepard paused and took a labored breath. “You're really feeling things aren’t you. Like we do?”

They were interrupted as a group of Husks came barreling towards them, having broken through the shabby perimeter that the others were maintaining. EDI managed to get one down, but Garrus grumbled to her, “Hold tight.” 

He removed one of his hands from her abdomen, pulled his sniper rifle off his back and holding it in one hand, but clearly straining, managed to fire two shots, exclaiming under his breath in pain as the recoil between shots moved though his injured body. He smirked at her.

“Show off.”

Liara managed to reach them, throwing a biotic shield up around them as she arrived. “I have some medigel!”  Garrus reluctantly pulled his remaining hand aside after she gave him a reassuring nod and she applied the solution to Shepard's wound. Shepard could tell by the stillness in Liara’s face that she was still concerned.

 Garrus could sense it too. He dropped the nearest line of approaching Husks with shots that somehow were particularly vicious. He stared down the barrel of his gun with a manic intensity for a moment. His body going rigid, as if he was frozen in desperation, trying to lock sights on an enemy he couldn’t see. His head bowed momentarily, the spines of his crest actually dropping slightly, something Shepard had never seen. He turned to her with eyes that stared into her soul. They were filled with pain and calm. “What do you need to do?”

Rage and heartbreak coursed through her all over again. She wanted to run, to rage, to shoot things and tear things apart with her biotics. Rip apart the world that was making him stare at her with that chilling calm. But she couldn’t. It was all she could do to keep breathing. “I don’t know.” She admitted.  “The blue kid thing...there’s an intelligence….it gave me choices. They’re all crap.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know - It said I have to-”

The shriek of a Husk rent the air, and then was cut off with a pointed shot from Garrus that happened so fast that Liara and EDI hadn’t even had a chance to respond.  “I don’t give a shit what it said. It’s a Reaper. I am General Garrus Vakarian and I sure as shit don’t take orders from Reapers. I and my crew take orders from one person, and one person only. Commander Shepard. And she doesn’t take orders from anyone.  So, Commander.” his face hardened, “What do you want to do?”

She stared at him, and in her mind saw everyone else, the teammates she had lost, who had sacrificed themselves to get them here. The Protheans she had glimpsed through the beacon. Javik who fought a hundred meters in front of them for a world that was not his own. Legion, who, with Garrus, had flanked her all through their fight in the Geth base. Garrus nodded gently to her.

“EDI.”

“Shepard?” EDI asked between shots.

”Organics and synthetics will synthesize eventually and then they can co-exist.”

“That is likely, Shepard. Given time and the current trajectory of human use of synthetics and the progression and learning of Artificial Intelligences like the Geth and myself.”

“The Conduit says it has to happen now.”

“And what do you say?” Garrus interrupted.

Shepard took a deep breath, “It can’t. It shouldn’t. It should happen naturally or be a choice. But the Crucible will disperse energy that will do something. It can’t be turned off. And if it doesn’t get dispersed soon, it’s just gonna blow up. I want...” Garrus nodded again, “I want a way to focus it. To just synthesize the Reapers.”

Liara turned to her “The Reapers?” “They’re synthetic but made of organics. I guess they have everyone, all the races that have been taken, in them somehow. And synthesis-”

“Synthesis can connect the synthetic processes of the Reapers with the consciousness of the organics they have been shaped from,” interrupted EDI.

Liara’s mouth dropped open in shock. “So all those - the knowledge of the lost civilizations - cycles and cycles of them - they could still exist-” she stopped, took a deep breath and then said, “It seems like a strong tactical option. Releasing them from destructive programming.” Shepard's heart ached for her friend. Ached at the archaeologist's restraint and focus. Shepard mentally threw a fresh batch of choice insults at the Child, the Reapers, this whole damned universe for depriving Liara the chance to lose her shit at information that changed everything. Everything.

“But,” Shepard groaned, “it needs a template of how to mix organics and synthetics. It needs a link from someone who is both.”

“Like you.”

“Yeah,” Shepard rasped, “and… and it will take all of me.”

 Garrus’ eyes flashed from the sight on his rifle to her eyes. She could see his breath quickening and him struggling to control it. Shrieks rose from more approaching Husks, and were then quickly silenced with shots from his rifle.

Pain and horror filled Liara’s eyes. “All of you?” she said softly.

“I guess. But… that’s… that’s not the problem... it… the way it was built, the programming... It will just go everywhere. It won’t be focused, it will make everyone everywhere synthesized. And I can’t, it’s not right.” She sighed, and then something occurred to her. “EDI… you are understanding with your gut not just your computing power now, right?”

“I suppose you are correct. Shepard, as your body uses the synthetic implants to sustain you and grows in and around them, the freedom to explore organic behavior and cognition has likewise synced with my operating procedures. Like the synthetics and your body, my programming and organic cognition are existing and growing in a symbiotic relationship.” she replied.

“So we are both synthesizing. Is...Is there some way we can direct this? Override the ...kid...the Conduit’s programming? Share synthesis with the Reapers. Cause them to engage in the process?”

“Like Legion did,” growled Garrus. Shepard sensed that he was refusing to look at her.

“Yes, but you would need some way of connecting your DNA, your energies and my programming with the Conduit.”

“Biotics, Shepard.” Liara interrupted as Garrus continued to drop Reapers with a furrowed brow.

“What?”

“You could use your biotics to connect with EDI and the Crucible. They can work like a network.” She said softly. “As the Asari do.”

Shepard turned to EDI, “Could that work?”

“Yes, Shepard,” she paused. “However, there is no telling how much energy it would take. The Crucible will likely function as an energy sink. When such a large volume is being directed elsewhere and your limited range is connected… all may be drained in the process.”

Somewhere, deep inside her, Shepard felt herself let go of a tiny thread of hope, that she hadn’t even realized she had been clinging to. It hurt less than expected, somehow, hurt less than the weight of the other options and the shreds of her battered body.  She began trying to push herself to her feet. She could see Garrus tense as he registered her strain but kept firing on the Reapers. Ever the unflinching soldier. “It’s the only choice. I won’t force people to be altered, not when I was forced.”

“Garrus, EDI,” Liara interrupted “keep us covered for a minute.” The two opened a constant stream of fire as Liara dropped her shield. “Here,” she said, placing two fingers against Shepard's forehead. Her eyes flashed open in surprise for a moment before swiftly closing them again. “Alright,” she said pulling back and then called “EDI!” EDI halted her firing and stepped towards Liara, who placed her two blue fingers against the AI’s forehead for a moment. “There! I have recorded and shared your neuro-synthetic pathways with EDI so she can create a language capable of connection.”

EDI nodded. “Shepard I am ready.”

“EDI? You're sure?” Shepard asked, then added softly, “It needs to be your choice too.”

EDI’s head tilted. “I must inform you that chances of survival are 100,000 billion to one. For both of us.” She paused, “However, it is a path where there are the highest statistical survival rates for Jeff, and...” Shepard would swear to her dying day (which she supposed was today... in a few minutes) that something very alive gleamed in EDI’s eyes. “And I would not see him reach non-functionality. I am willing.”

“As am I.” Shepard whispered.

Shepard could feel that the medigel had done quite a bit of work. Her hand had grown sticky. Thank the Goddess, she thought, smiling slightly at Liara. She still felt horrible. Chances were the medigel had sealed an infection in her body…death was probably still around the corner. A slow death. But a slow death at least gave her time. “Then let’s end this. Garrus, we’re going to need a path to that beam!”

He stared at her intently, then said softly “...anything.” His gaze shifted back down the scope of his rifle and he took a few pained steps down the citadel’s arm clearing the Husks in that direction. Shepard made to follow but Liara caught her hand.

“Shepard, are you sure? It...it will cost everything.” she murmured.

Shepard chuckled; it still fucking hurt: ”Doesn’t it always? I already died trying to stop the Reapers. Dying to succeed should be a breeze.” 

“It’s not just you this time. Shepard… your-” her eyes dropped to where Shepard still applied pressure to her wound… and her belly.

Shepherd's heart stopped, “What?”

Liara’s expression was pained. “I am as surprised as you are. Genetically it seems impossible which is no doubt why you neglected to take preventative- but if the synthesis of your synthetic implants and organic body are as advanced as the intelligence seems to think... they… they may have been able to compensate for the differences in the turian and human genome... ”

A blast of blue light appeared and Liara and EDI were thrown back from Shepard. The blaze of light slowly resolved into the shape of the Child.

“The time for these distractions is ended. You must make your choice,” it ordered.

Her heart was pounding. Her head spun. She could feel her biotics faintly crackling. She must be really, really, mad if that was happening. She wasn’t like Jack who sparked blue light and made things float if the mess hall was out of chocolate pudding.  She had to be pretty close to the edge for that part of her to wake up on it’s own. But what she’d just learned in the face of everything else… So many sleepless nights, so many losses to build the Crucible, to get it here. Crawling away from the Admiral, from Anderson’s cold form… so many hopes and prayers for a weapon that turned out to be a trap. She could feel blood running from her nose now. Fine, it was all fine. What had Anderson taught her? What had she learned time and time again? It didn’t matter if you were unarmed. When you needed a weapon, the answer was simple, you became one.  She chuckled darkly to herself. Apparently, she had.

“I won’t let everyone die. Synthetics or organics.” Shepard growled at the Child.

“Then you must surrender to synthesis,” it ordered.

“I already told you,” she said, taking a step forwards, “I won’t force that on everyone. I’ll make it happen on my own terms. So they - so they have time!” she snarled back.

“Time will only allow for chaos and all organic life to be eradicated. Your selection is unacceptable. You will be terminated and the cycle will continue.” The ground shook beneath Shepard’s feet and the arms of the Citadel began closing and the Child vanished. She heard a shriek and a fresh wave of Husks appeared, swarming towards them.  

EDI had managed to return to Shepard’s side. “Come on EDI,” Shepard called over the roar of battle.

The two began racing (or racing as much as Shepard was capable of) through the space Garrus had cleared, closing in behind him. They drew level with him when suddenly-

“Shepard!” he yelled and grabbed her by the arm.

“Garrus - I have to-”

He yanked her towards him, cutting off her speech as a blast of energy blazed past her.  Banshees had somehow joined the Husks on the citadel. He drew her down to the ground as another blast flew over their heads.

“I know!” he snarled, eyes locked on her. “I know you have to.”

Something moved behind him. Without thinking Shepard grabbed the spare pistol at his side and opened fire, taking down a Husk that had slipped through the line held by the rest in the distance. 

Garrus glanced over his shoulder, looking pissed. “Damn,” he growled.

“I’ve got your back.” Shepard said softly.

“Never doubted it.” He said, eyes bright.

“....never?” She asked, voice shaking.

“Never.  I know you have to do thisI- I hate it, but I do.” his hand squeezed hers. “So you better believe I’m going to ensure you make it there alive.”

“I’m -” she began, “Garrus, I-” but the words. They weren’t there. She could have taken down a hundred Reapers right now or a mec - but the words, they just wouldn’t come.

“It’s ok,” he murmured. In the roar of the firefight around them his voice was somehow the only thing that mattered. His eyes searched hers’. “I love you too. You will never be alone Moria. Never. Now go!” he roared. In one swift motion he pushed her forward and stood tall. She saw him raise his gun just as he passed from her line of sight and she began moving forward with EDI once again.

*    *    *   

Garrus glared down the barrel of his gun at the approaching Husks and Banshees. His muscles were loose, his spine tall. He felt effortlessly calm as he watched Shepard run in his rifle sights. There was rightness in it, watching that red hair of hers stream behind her as she ran. He nestled the Husks approaching her in the crosshairs of his sight, and with the finger that had brushed the matted hair from her face, brushed those in her path out of existence. 

              *    *    *  

Shepard could hear the blast of Garrus’ rifle and between each shot she heard him roar:

“GET”

BOOM

“THE HELL”

BOOM

“OUT”

BOOM

“OF MY”

BOOM

“WIFE’S”

BOOM

“WAY!”

Shepard didn’t have time to wonder at-

“Shepard! Now!” Cried EDI.

They had reached the beam. EDI grabbed hold of Shepard’s left hand, Shepard threw out her right, and launched a blast of her biotic energy at the central beam of light. There was a flash as it made contact and

Bright. Blaze. A crackle. Light was everywhere. Streaming through her, racing through every cell. Light in a roaring wind, blasting through until no obstacle to it’s path remained. She was… she felt free. Felt like she did standing on the deck of the Normandy, a horizon full of stars sprawled out before her. Free. She could hear the crew, feel them, feel the Normandy, the supernova of it’s engines and the smaller ever-moving sparks of the crew that called it home; feel EDI both here in the Normandy and elsewhere...  Somewhere in the howling… there was a faint… something… something soft… that growled in her ear… when she’d had an ear, a body… but the roaring was even stronger now and the wind was everywhere. And now… there was no point where she ended and it began… it was becoming hard to remember when she had been… when she….. The blaze... a familiar thrumming? She forgot what remembering was as the last of her burned away and became the blaze.

*     *     *

Light had been streaming from EDI. From her eyes, and mouth. Beacons of their own. Moria’s eyes had blazed too. Their usual green, like the dancing borealis over Palaven’s cold mountains, burned away behind an inhuman blaze. Just as the twisted form of Sarin’s had. 

There had been a flash. From them, and that central beam that had swept through the stars. It had felt like the wind from an explosion, it hit you like something solid, had ripped gouges through the structure of the Citadel,  but had been devoid of temperature. The Husks it passed through had dropped. Some were now stirring slightly.

He supposed if he were a more noble Turian he would check on those nearest him, but he was anchored in stillness, anchored by the stillness in the two forms at the foot of the Crucible. 

Shepard, for all her hardness, her scars, her bravado, she fell asleep when she had finally drank too much. Going soft despite her warriors form in a way she never was, even in normal sleep. She’d better not be asleep at the bar when he got there. He wanted to see the look in her eyes when he finally arrived.

The ground was trembling. He should probably care. Somewhere, someone was screaming his name. A crack was appearing on the arm of the citadel between him and where she lay. His heart leapt into his throat. A hell of a feat when you're as long necked as a Turian. He should run to- the crack widened as panels of the floor fell away. He should run. He should go get them - no, their bodies…..or get out of there himself. But everything was quiet, still. And so why move when that arm was so still? When those eyes were empty, so empty...like the universe had become. 

He could hear a name, a name that was supposed to be his, and through the growing roar of the crumbling citadel, pounding feet. He would go then. She would kill him if he let anyone end up dead. He’d stay for one last, useless, empty breath and then- Light flashed in EDI’s eyes and her head slowly rotated.

It was like coming up from beneath the waves into a storm. The roar of the disintegrating station rolled in his ears, or maybe it was the roaring in his blood.  The sky was blinding in the light of that green wave as it raced away from them and as the structure around them turned to metal and fire. He was moving. Faster than he could ever remember, his injuries forgotten. The chasm that had opened between him and where they lay, between that stillness he had left behind and the movement, the impossible - that lay before him, was nothing. He landed next to EDI.

“EDI!” he yelled, examining her robotic form. There were scorch marks, some melted wires, showing signs of burnout and overheating. But - one eye moved, circling aimlessly, then flashed to him, away, to him - the lense focused.

“Garr...s Vk…..in.” came warbling from an exposed speaker on her clavicle. EDI, she had somehow...if she had…”

“Joker!!!” Garrus barked into his com - hoping desperately that he’d be heard through the din of the crumbling structure around them. “Joker, do you read me!? I have EDI. She’s here! She’s still here. I don’t know how but I think they’re here.”

He heard static and then,”EDI! Garrus, I’m inbound, vertical evac incoming. Maintain your position. We don’t have much time.”

“Copy!” Garrus barked. Smoke was beginning to fill the air. Something to his left exploded and he shielded his face and com with an arm.

“Garrus-” he heard through the com, “Shepard - is she-” he lost the rest in some static.

“I - I don’t know.” Garrus said, his voice cracking.

“Moria!!!!” he yelled. Crawling towards her. Dread filled him. She was still. So still. He checked for a pulse, snarling at his trembling fingers. There was none. “NO! Moria!!” he shook her shoulders. Nothing. 

Damn humans. Damn soft, endoskeleton unsheathed, vulnerable - he ripped away the remnants of her armor’s chest plate and placed a hand on her sternum. Furious he had never studied human biology from any other perspective than a killer.  Compressions… that worked on most sapiens. In terror, he laced his fingers and began.

“Moria!” He yelled, “I don’t give a Krogan’s ass where you are or what is out there, you come back now. Moria….” He dropped an ear to her lips but felt nothing. Her scent filled his nostrils. Unmistakable despite the blood and smoke. That heady lilac and citrus, with a bite like gunpowder. He hadn't had a chance to tease her about it yet.  He growled and went back to compressions, pressing harder. “You’ve shown off enough. Now. Get. Back. Here! Moria!!!”

He heard and felt something crack, and whipped his hands away in panic. “No! No, no, no, no! Moria, please!” he begged. His heart was going to burst- that crack, that sickening crack, he’d - he threw back his head and roared. 

He lowered his head. A tear ran down his scales. His eyes burned and the smoke was choking, impairing his vision. He rubbed at his eyes, squinting at her through the haze. He was really looking at her now, well, looking at her for more than blood and vital signs. There were… He rubbed at his eyes again. No it wasn’t the smoke, or his eyes... Lines. He’d thought the soot was simply marring her face at first, but now he could make out a matrix, a latticework of infinitely thin lines scrolled across her face, neck, that hatefully still chest. Burns? Of some kind? From the light? Refracted off her armor maybe... His gaze drifted to the chestplate. Maybe there was a loose circuit in the wiring that had caused the strange burns? Her armor was in shreds, charred, shattered, the circuitry of her omni-tool unrecognizable-

His omni-tool. How much time had passed? How long… he wanted to throw himself into the abyss. If he hadn’t stood there. If he had run to her instantly… Hands still shaking he adjusted the settings of his omni-tool to administer an adrenal boost, and held it over the section of her chest he would have trained in his sights for an instant kill. “Please,” he whispered to everything and nothing. He hit the activation key.

All was still. 

“GARRUS” Joker’s yell split the silence in his head. There was fire all round him. He could feel the structure beneath him beginning to tilt. He squinted upwards, the Normandy maintaining position over his head, an evac cable being lowered to him.  He grabbed the cable, wrapped and clamped it around EDI’s form and signaled for them to raise her up. After ensuring she wouldn’t slip, he returned to Shepard. The ground beneath him shifted and then stabilized. He could see the biotics of their team standing in the hangar doorway, trying to stabilize the few panels he and Shepherd occupied as EDI was untied from the rigging. The cable began its descent once again. Garrus scooped Shepard up in his arms. He pressed his face into her hair and whispered,”I said I would never leave you.” He squinted up towards the Normandy, reaching for the cable a few inches from his finger.

The world exploded around them. The air was gone. There was only fire.  Broken shards of the Citadel arm were cast out by the wave of the blaze. And the red hot twisted metal and concrete was on them, things happening so fast that there was no time - no time to pointlessly wrap himself around her before the rubble-

*     *    *  

The Normandy swung back over the shard of the Citadel arm remaining after the explosion. Joker could make out frustratingly little through the smoke and fire, and couldn’t risk descending further as explosions still punctuated the sky. His instruments were infuriatingly useless. Anything beyond the manual controls had been going haywire since that green blaze hit them. He’d barely kept control. His heart raced in his chest and he cursed, feeling useless. He couldn’t go down there, he couldn't see anything, couldn’t do anything for EDI. He glanced over his shoulder. Traynor, Tali and a team of techs were grouped around the space where they had propped her limp form. Tali was tapping in a frenzy at a screen with wires connected to EDI and the Normandy, yelling to those around her over the new roaring static that had filled the ship since the blast hit and the instruments had been lost. Then as suddenly as that roar had begun, it vanished. The crew on the bridge gazed around in confusion. Joker checked the rest of his instruments and cried out in anger finding them still useless.

And then there was Garrus. That tore him apart the most.  Shepherd had held up her end of the deal. Somehow - EDI was here. But Joker had brought Garrus back. Had listened when Garrus had dragged himself across the bridge, shoving crew out of the way, armor discarded to reveal the scaled hide of his too heavily bandaged torso. Joker had balked when the Turian had roared at him, in a way that made something deep and primal in him want to run, run far, far away. Trembling, he had stared into those eyes empty of all but rage as Garrus ordered him to fly to the Citadel, and obeyed.  And he hadn’t gotten back in time, hadn’t given the Turian enough time to get EDI and himself clear before the Citadel arm exploded. And now he couldn’t even find the bodies.  He uselessly scanned the remaining shreds of the arm and then threw his hands in front of his eyes as another explosion of green light lit the sky. Joker squinted through the blaze, and suddenly felt the Normandy leap into a dive. 

*   *   *

Far below the Normandy in the clouds of billowing smoke and scattered embers red hair shifted in the growing wind. A body lay sprawled in the rubble, a network of silvery lines running over the skin just visible as they reflected the light from the explosions punctuating the steady glow of the growing fires.  As the Normandy passed above, a fraction lower this time, the light changed. Faint green glowed from the latticework for a moment, and then died. The Reapers had drifted away and the ships scattered in the sky were either making halting journeys to Earth, to larger vessels, or slowly gliding through debris, searching for life in the void.  The only battle that remained was that which fire and gravity raged on the crumbling Citadel.   Red hair lay across Shepherd's bloody lips. Then moved. And not from the wind.

*    *    *

Moria could smell smoke. Hear the sound of crashing and explosions. The ground beneath her face shook occasionally and her mouth tasted of ash and blood. If this was the bar on the other side she either had one hell of a hangover or it was a really shitty bar. She opened her eye, squinting in the light of the fire around her. Smoke clogged the air. In the distance she could see Earth slowly nearing them as the remnants of the Citadel lost their orbit. 

She hoped it had worked. Although there was no way to tell now. She just hoped it worked, for his sake. All their sakes.  She laughed to herself and then immediately regretted it. If she squinted right, the iron and wires sticking up from the rubble in front of her nearly looked like Garrus’s crest. That was comforting.  And at least she was seeing Earth again. I guess I’ll be buried on Earth...under the citadel rubble. But still. A cough racked her chest. She saw specks of blood on the ground in front of her mouth, clearly from that cough. Well that checked out and was pretty much what she expected. She tried to take a slow breath as she gazed at the blue green of Earth.  

Anderson would have liked this view too. She was pretty sure she could make out England's southern coast.  Maybe that is where they would fall and he’d be able to go home once again. She searched for other landmarks. Might as well bide the time till her breaths stopped. She cursed the Crucible mentally. It couldn’t even kill her right. She didn’t think it would be too long now. There was a new pain in her side, and a wet rasp to her breaths that was unmistakably the sound of a punctured lung. She searched for France over the pile of rubble with the points of iron and wire in front of her. She thought he would like France, for some reason. Some of the metal buried in the concrete was even blue-

“Garrus!” Shepard gasped. Heart pounding. She dug her fingernails into the ground and dragged herself forward, crying out at the pain as she did. It was him. Here. Somehow. Some fucking how. No! It couldn’t be. Desperately she slowly pulled herself over and up along the rubble, barely noticing as her fingernails split with the effort. She finally reached him. His chest and legs were pinned beneath a fallen wall of the citadel. His visor shattered. She couldn’t help thinking that would piss him off. She held her hand to his mouth. She could feel breath; barely, but it was there.

   “Garrus! She cried, pounding on his armor. Spitting blood as she yelled his name. She heard him groan and began sobbing. It was the best noise she had ever heard. His eyes opened and she stared into their crisp blue.

“Moria,” he rasped, eyes widening. He reached out a hand for her, the strain of the motion evident on his face. She caught his hand. “I - I thought you’d… how?”

“I don’t know.” she breathed. “I - don’t understand.” She stared at their clasped hands noticing the silvery matrix under the coating of soot and blood. But that didn’t seem to matter right now.  “What are you doing here?” she weased.

“Saving you.” he groaned “saving EDI.”

“Saving everyone was my job.” 

“Well keep working on it,” he said with a faint smile.

“Vakarian, if I had the strength to punch you right now...” her voice shook. “Why did you come? Why didn’t you stay on the Normandy?.”

He gave her a wry smile “Do you think Archangel would let you die before proving that he’s a better shot? Do you think Archangel would let you die without a rematch. No way am I living the rest of my life without taking you down. Your head’s big enough already.”

She squinted at the smoke, at the rubble on his chest, “Can you ….can you push it off?” she asked. 

There was a moment of silence and his face tensed. Then relaxed and he let out a rattling sigh,” ….no...no I think this is the end of the road for me.” He gave her an infuriating smirk. “But at least I got the last save.”

“No…” Shepard groaned and pulled with futility against the concrete.

“Hey, hey,” he breathed. “Moria….stop. It’s not. You can’t shift it.”

“Fuck you I can’t.” she snapped.

“Moria, I have to.. I need you to take this.” He held his hand to his mouth, pulled off his glove, and then pulled a scraped up circle of metal off his smallest digit.

“I don’t want your mom’s cheap Turian trinkets...I want you” she snarled.

Garrus laughed, it quickly turned into an alarmingly wet cough. When it subsided his lips were bloody. He reached out and gently traced a finger across her bottom lip.  And then looked at the blood there too. “Well look at that? We match. Told you I’d catch up.” She glared at him. “And you do want my Mother’s “trinkets” - she has the most amazing armory on Palaven. It’d make you wet.”

“Garrus,”

“Shhh...no, this is just yours. Recognize it?”

She let out a wet and exasperated sigh and squinted at the circle of metal. One edge had a clean finished end, the other was rather jagged. A minute code was stamped on the metal.  She stared at him. “A shell?”

“Yeah. Your shell. From the shot that you beat me with. For now. You’re gonna wear it.”

“Oh I am, am I?” she said, eyes watering.

“Yeah, but don't get too excited. It’s just to remind you that I get a rematch when you get to the bar. And to tell the world you didn’t win, yet.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he grinned like an idiot. “Oh. To tell them you get a rematch? Not something else you might have yelled at the world earlier?”

“Oh...well…Um...in my defense, I thought you were dying. And...what do you humans say? The best laid plans…But yes Shepard. I would have. If I could.”

“Ok. You're done talking like this. We have a beach to get to.” she glared at the rubble before her, willing herself to see some way to get it off him. She gritted her teeth and reached for her biotics pushing against the concrete and searching for all her might to find...something anything. The concrete pressing into him was wet...

“Moria, please,” he reached a hand out to her face. She held it there and pressed it against her cheek. A tear ran down her cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb. He coughed again. His breath was ragged.

“Garrus,” she whispered, pleading. His eyelids were fluttering now.

“It’s ok Moria.” he said between coughs. “I’ll...I’ll get the first round.” His eyes drifted closed.

“Garrus!” She hissed. She tried to shake him, and failing at that touched his face. He didn’t respond, “GARRUS!” She yelled. She strained against the jagged concrete, coughing at the smoke that was continuously thickening in the air. It was getting warmer too, and Earth was nearer. She was beginning to see the lights of major cities emerging through the clouds. “GARRUS!”  she screamed.

No. This was not it. This would not happen. It would not end this way. She had not become an Alliance commander, had not become a Spectre, died, come back, found this cocky Turian, found a living Prothean and survived whatever the synthesis was just to lose Garrus to space debris. She threw her body against the rubble again. “Stay with me, Garrus. Vakarian! That is an order.” She couldn’t see through the smoke and tears now, “Garrus Vakarian, this is your Commanding officer. I am ordering you to wake up.” She could feel the remnants of the Citadel accelerating. She grabbed his com. “Normandy!!! Joker!!! Anyone on this line. This is Commander Shepard. I have a man down. I - I - “ she coughed again and groaned in pain. “I am on the Citadel. I repeat. I am on the Citadel and I have a man down.” A sob racked her body “I need medical evac! I - someone please come get him!!!!”

There was crackling from the com.

“Someone help him!” she yelled.

He was still, and pale. Fuck, she’d never seen a pale Turian. “No!” She screamed. She grabbed the slab of concrete with her broken hands, pulled with all her might, plunged into the void where her biotics had been, threw back her head and screamed. An electric green glow began to creep down the silver lines on her body. It started, just below her eyes, the initial gleam could have been mistaken for tears but it slowly crept down her cheeks and over her jawline, down her limbs. It spread, gradually revealing a branching network that encompassed her whole being. Filling the air with a new wavering light like a borealis. It spread down her arms to the ravaged fingers clutching at the concrete. Her scream became broken, tearing her throat, and then there was a blinding flash from those lines of light. It’s gleam cutting through the dark of the void like a new sun. The slab in her hands shifted and a roar of engines filled the air.

*   *   *

Beep.

He waited. 

Beep.

Good.

Beep.

It was difficult. Waiting for each beep. He remembered one night.... Marveling at the quickness of their heartbeats. His ear pressed against her naked chest. As her warm, blissfully soft fingers traced his scales and the spines of his crest. He had been taught that their hearts beat so much faster when learning the best ways to kill them and every other species in the galaxy. 

It was so different though. Waiting for each heartbeat. Hoping for the next. He wouldn’t have expected their quickness to be so distressing. But somehow, because they were so short, that terrifying moment, that silence before the next one came. When all his calibrations told him it should have arrived by now. That if it hadn’t it must mean-

Beep.

Oh, ok. With a heartbeat that fast, and five times faster in the heat of battle….it was even more impressive she was such a good shot. That she kept such poise. He was sure he would be shaking like a leaf. Not that he would ever admit that to her. 

Beep.

This time, his heart skipped a beat. He had forgotten to wait for that one. 

Beep.

Ok, maybe he would tell her about her impressive compensation if-

NO. There were no if’s. When. When she woke up.

Beep.

Waiting was exhausting. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead. He was always doing that. Her fringe...it was so delicate, the little wisps, the way they danced in the wind, and stuck to her face in blood and sweat. Her hair so much longer than when they had taken down the humanoid Reaper. Always tossed in a bun. So she had a clear line of sight, so that it didn’t provide much of a hand hold in hand-to-hand combat. So that she always had control. Except for these little wisps. He couldn’t help but smile. He should buy her a barrette. He would tell her that too.

He leaned forward and took her hand in one of his. Then lay his head on his arm. Watching her.

Beep

Good.

The Synthesis had worked. It hadn’t killed her. Not… not fully anyway. Her organic body had died. His gut clenched in terror all over again at the thought. The memory of that crack - her still chest. So different from the one that now gently rose and fell under his watchful eye. That blast. The energy had wiped out all life in her, and EDI’s robotic form. But EDI didn’t just exist in that form. Her robotic body had been fried by the blast of energy, but her programming, her servers, they weren’t just there. They were on the Normandy.  

And so her consciousness endured, and through their biotic link - so had Shepard’s. And somehow, in the wake of all the changes wreaked on the fragile form in front of him, Shepard’s consciousness was able to return.  He still didn’t fully understand. Engines, catalytic processes, energy transfers, complex physics, bullet and fist trajectories; of all these he was an expert, but this bio-synthetic network stuff…even Tali couldn’t help.

The news had not been all good. Her synthetics had changed fast apparently, as that light raged. Biotic energy furthering connections where wires could not reach, the inorganic materials learning to spread like cells yet burning out in the intensity of the energies coursing through her. Not to mention the critical levels of organic damage she had already received. She was filled with structures none of those caring for her had ever seen and no one truly understood. It was impossible to tell where synthetic ended and organic began. And those silvery lines spidered through her whole being. Even Javik said he had never seen or heard of their like.

And then there was the enormous wave of biotic energy she’d used to free him. To save him. Tali and Liara had said it was like shooting a bullet from a gun whose barrel was already splintering. The energy had dispersed everywhere, and hadn’t left much in its wake.  

When Javik and Liara had reached them on the Citadel, after that blast, after the descent EDI and Shepard’s linked minds had caused, the slab trapping him had been obliterated, as had much of his remaining armor.

Beep.

And now he waited. EDI’d said she could feel Shepard. But that she was only a whisper in the Normandy’s computers now, most of her consciousness must have returned to her body. But no one could tell him if her body was whole enough to hold it.

Beep.

Still good. He would just close his eyes while he waited for the next one.

The bed shifted. Garrus’ eyes flashed open. He couldn’t draw breath. Every muscle in his body was tense. Terrible sniper form. The bed had shifted. Hadn’t it? If he had imagined it he was going to leap out the window of this Salarian hospital. Her forehead creased and she shifted. He hadn’t dreamed it. He slowly raised himself. His hand gently squeezing hers.

“Moria,” he breathed. He could see her eyes shifting beneath her lids. He couldn’t breathe, he was shaking.  “I’m here. Moria, it’s ok, I’m here….Come back Shepard….please. Your insubordinate boyfriend is begging you.”

Finally they opened, and focused on him. Their bright green was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

 With a ragged breath she wheezed, “Garrus.”

His mouth was dry. He couldn’t - what do you say… he didn’t know what he was supposed to do, to say in the face of….. and then it tumbled out before he could control it, “You smell like lilacs and citrus, it's so girly, but also kind of like gunpowder, take a shower already, you’re even more of an impressive shot because your human heartbeat is so fast, also I’m gonna buy you a barrette.”

Shepard squinted at him. Half in irritation half in confusion. Her eyes roved over him. Taking in his new scars, the bandages peeking out from under his jacket. His mandibles hurt from how hard he was smiling. Ever the watchful Commander. Assessing everyone’s fitness. Her eyes fell on their clasped hands and his arm on the bed. She closed her eyes, her face clenching in pain. “Garrus…”

“What is it?”

“You’re on my medigel feed.”

He leapt to his feet, still holding her hands. Sure enough, there was the thin plastic tube feeding her medigel, in the crumpled blankets where he had fallen asleep.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He shifted the tube, it refilled with gel and Shepard let out a sigh. He sat back down, squeezing her hand. Unable to let go. 

Her eyes searched his face, and fell up on his visor. “You got a new…”

“Visor? Yes, the other one was broken.” She nodded. “Frustrating. But there are much more important things.”

Shepard snorted softly “I knew you’d be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“There were photos on it.”  His eyes widened. She gave him a pained smirk. “Special… photos.”

He was breathless. “Well now I’m mad.”  Her eyes shone. She shifted and began trying to sit up in the bed and almost instantly cried out in pain.

“Easy, easy..” Garrus murmured reaching out to steady her. She fought back against him for a moment and then laid back, breathing heavily. “You have to wait and heal,” he pleaded. She threw a scowl his way. He snorted. “You might be able to take a hit Shepard, but you're garbage at recovering from them.” 

 She grimaced in pain, “It feels like I-”

“Broke a rib?”

She nodded, “I remember… breathing trouble, blood… but not…”

“Um…”

She looked at him.

He shrugged. “Sorry, I might have broken one of your ribs.”

She coughed. “Goddamnit, Vakarian. How the hell-”

“Well if you’d had a pulse when I got to you, I wouldn’t have had to….” he tried to keep the bravado. Tried to act like it was after any other mission and they were comparing scrapes in their armor and particularly spectacular shots, but he could feel himself unraveling inside. His breath caught, his voice began to shake, “I couldn’t get it back. The compressions weren’t - I didn’t know how hard to-”

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized he’d shed.

“It’s ok,” she wheezed, her eyes full of tenderness, and added with a slight smile, “Just stick to shooting people next time.” Her smile faded, “Garrus.” she croaked. “I...I’m sorry.”

He leaned forward. Bringing his face inches from hers. “There will never be a reason that you can say those words to anyone in this galaxy. Never again.” he growled softly.

“No, listen,” she murmured, squeezing his hand, “Liara, just before I… when she helped EDI connect….” his brow furrowed, “Garrus, we… I.” She looked scared and tears welled in her eyes. “A Turian and human…it wasn't as… biology didn’t have an issue… I was…”

It took an eternity for the words to sink in. He couldn’t help himself, his hand slid across the blankets to her abdomen. He’d held his hands there on the Citadel. Just trying to stem the bleeding, oblivious to the not just one but two lives at risk from that bleed.

“It didn’t make it?” He cringed at the stupidity of the question. Liara, the Salarians, Dr. Chackwas. They had been so somber. No one had said… he supposed it hadn’t been their place. He thought of himself as relatively imaginative, but he could not even conceive what it would have been like to hear this from someone else. And she had been in and out of surgery. The physical damage, the infections sealed in after the medigel was applied, the broken rib and punctured lung from the compressions he had done, the synthetic implants that had to be replaced...

“Liara said it would take everything.” Shepard whispered. A tear ran down her cheek.

The doorway to their room, her room really, except he’d never left it so it might as well be theirs, slid open and of all people Liara burst inside. When she saw Shepard tears filled her eyes.

“Your-” she gasped.” “You're, I had scanners monitoring and their readings went off the chart - I thought - you were -” she took a deep breath. “But you're actually awake.”

“Sorry,” Shepard croaked, “You know I’ve never been a morning person.”

“Ha.” mocked Liara, tears shining on her face. Her countenance quieted, “I should let you two... I’m sure there are things you need to say-” She made to leave but Shepard stopped her.

“No, I - I just told him, Liara.” Liara’s gave Garrus a pained look. “And he told me I smell and he’s getting me a barette.” Her lip twitched. “But- Liara you said…” Shepherd seemed to struggle to find the next words. “...I don’t understand why I’m here,” she wheezed.  “Why didn’t I die?”

Liara crossed to her and said softly, “We don’t really know for sure.” She took a seat on the other side of the bed. “Your and EDI’s minds were connected, and so, we think you….uploaded yourself to the Normandy for a time.”

Shephard’s brow furrowed as if remembering something. “But the template… you, you said it would take everything...”

“I - I have a theory there.” Liara said. Her eyes were shining with fresh tears. She took a ragged breath and her eyes darted to Garrus. He stiffened.

“I think the synthesis… the energy cost would have been fatal…. and your...your physical form would have been consumed… if… if there hadn’t been more energy… more than one life and set of DNA connected... ” Shepard frowned. Liara seemed to steel herself. “The fetus.” she said softly. “It… it would have been a mix of organics and synthetics, just like you, but even more concentrated.  And with… another life growing inside you, and your connection to the Normandy through EDI… it fueled the synthesis and you...”

“So it’s gone?” Shepard asked in a small voice. Garrus had never heard that from her. It shook him to his very core.

Liara’s lips trembled. A tear slid down her cheek and she merely squeezed Shepard’s bandaged hand and nodded. She gazed for a moment, first at Shepherd and then at Garrus, before taking a deep breath and adding, “I felt it, for a few moments.” She smiled softly at them both, “It was a remarkable creature.”

Something ached in Garrus in a way he’d never felt before.  Shepard's gaze had become distant.

They were all still for a moment and then Liara whispered, “I’m down the hall if you need anything.” She gently brushed a tear from Shepard's face and squeezed Garrus’ shoulder as she left.  

There was silence in the room. It was strange… so strange to fiercely miss and grieve something he hadn’t known. Something that had only crossed his mind in the few quiet moments in their mad dash across the galaxy.

“I'm sorry,” she breathed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he squeezed her hand, forcing back some tears. “But you and I are here” he growled firmly. “We are both here. So it will be ok.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “There’s no Shepard without Vakarian,” he murmured. After a moment he pulled a bottle from the pocket of his jacket. And placed it on the bed. “And I brought the bar to us. Just don’t tell Chakwas.”

She grinned at him through her tears, took a ragged breath, and said “Oh, I won’t.”  Her hand shifted in his. She slipped it from his grasp and examined the bandages. 

“You shredded your hands,” he said softly. ”Getting me out. All the rubble, and some of the metal was hot. There were some bad burns.” She held her hand up. Her thumb was separate, but her first two and last two fingers were bandaged and splinted together, to speed the healing the Salarians had said.

“Look,” She wheazed holding her hand up to him, “we match.”

He lifted his hand from the place where a miracle had been, spread his digits and pressed them against this new miracle. After a moment he entwined his fingers in hers and held on tight.

It was a small gathering. In a green grove on Palaven. One of the few near his home that had not been reduced to ashes by the Reapers. But even there, shoots and saplings were beginning to emerge through the ashes. Wrex stood between them. The Krogan had refused to wear anything other than their armor from the fight for Earth. Moria liked it. She could make out scratches and dents from bullets she’d seen him take, or almost dodge. Wrex spoke of comrades, of the bond with the person that you trust to have at your back. The one you will charge at a thresher maw for. And of having to put up with the stench of her and Garrus’ pheromones before they had acknowledged their mutual attraction. And the worse ones that distracted him in battle after they had...frequently acknowledged it.  It was perfect, and she could barely keep from laughing as she watched Garrus try not to cry, he was so moved.

Grunt stood beside her in the place she would have asked Anderson to stand. But it was right somehow. She appreciated his unrestrained eye rolls and grumbles at the aspects of the human ceremony Liara had recommended they add for balance. He had a few new scratches on his face, but seemed rather pleased with them. 

Last night, at a celebratory dinner with all the guests, she had caught him playing with Mordin, the eldest of Wrex and Bakara’s growing brood. Mordin had picked up a butter knife from the table while Grunt had been charged with minding her.  He had taken her curiosity as an opportunity to teach the toddler the proper grip for a knife and slicing pattern to gut an enemy.  Shephard had finally intervened when Grunt roared with delight as Mordin practiced the pattern on his face. Wrex had guffawed and said it was about time the pretty tank-bred male earned some scars, and Bakara seemed rather pleased Mordin had given him his first.  He certainly didn’t look out of place as nearly everyone in the wedding party was heavily scarred, especially the couple.

 They were quite a pair, Moria thought to herself. She wore flowing red and white robes over pants, in Turian style, the color setting off her hair and scars. In very un-human fashion they left part of her midriff exposed so that all could see her wicked, extensive scars. Garrus was similarly adorned, revealing several scars that until now, she was sure she had been the only one to see, but in blues, like his armor and the color of his clan tattoos.  Javik stood beside him holding the memory shard, having said, much to her chagrin, that the union of two great warriors was something the ages should remember.  

She had pinned Garrus to the wall and began a reproving tirade when he’d brought the… rather revealing….. ceremonial robes back to their apartment in the city. But he’d explained, in a frantic rasp, her forearm and the wall sandwiching his windpipe, that they truly were traditional. He did, however, admit that he had been particularly eager to see her in them.   Apparently, in Turian culture, this heightened vulnerability was a great demonstration of trust between the joining pair, and clans. And a heavily scarred partner showed that you were joining with a seasoned warrior.  A mark of great pride for your clan.  She couldn’t decide if she felt smug or irritated by the fact that, because of this, her robes were a little more revealing. But she certainly enjoyed the sight of Garrus in his robes.

Wrex, after a colorful description of Garrus pheromones when he covered Moria from behind, transitioned to the next part of the ceremony. Moria’s heart quickened and she could tell by Garrus’ deep breath that his slower heartbeat had also increased. Grunt held out a box, from which she withdrew two rings, more slender than the one Garrus had pressed upon her as the Citadel fell from the sky, but forged from that same band. That shell, that proved she was the better shot. Javik passed Garrus a small bowl of blue ink.

Here was the only part of the ceremony she and Garrus had really cared about, although, after the attention he paid to the seating chart and his firm opinions on the food, she deeply suspected that he cared for more of this than he let on. Now, they exchanged customs. Now they made a step towards undoing all the strain between their people from the first contact war. Now they charted a new way forward. Shepard offered Garrus one of the rings and he slipped it on a finger with a gentle caress to some of her nastiest new scars. She slipped its twin on one of his index digits. He then dipped that digit in the bowl of ink, his eyes never leaving hers, gently adding the same tattoo to her face that she had so often traced on his in the small, quiet hours on the Normandy. She felt the sting as the nanotech in the ink set to work creating thousands of tiny holes in her skin so that when the ink dried it would be permanent as his. She smirked, keeping her eyes locked on his through the stings of the tiny needles, refusing to flinch. Garrus’ brow raises a fraction and she caught him mouthing “show off.”

“And now these warriors’ houses are united as one. In tradition of the Turians, Commander Moria Shepard accepts the tattoos of Clan Vakarian. And in the tradition of the humans, he takes her name, Shepard, for they and their name are both revered heroes to the Krogan. And now they kiss and stop making me nauseous with their blasted pheromones.” Moria threw back her scarred, tattooed head and laughed, but didn’t have long before Garrus grabbed her, and pulled her to him. They locked eyes for a moment. One she wished could last forever...until she couldn’t wait any longer, grabbed him by the mandibles and pulled him in for a...zealous and very unchaste kiss.  Their guests made quite a bit of noise at this point, particularly for such a small party, and sent raptors flapping from the trees. 

Garrus finally pulled back, giving her a smirk that stirred things deep within her. “What now?” He purred.

“Now, she said with a smile. We go to the bar.”  His eyes gleamed at that. “We empty lots of bottles,” she said, “and if you're a very very lucky Turian,” he growled in anticipation and bent his head close to her, “you get a rematch.”