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bukojuiice · 4 years

Text

fix you.

ೃ pairing: (village prince! katsuki bakugo x princess mononoke! reader)

ೃ tags: princess mononoke au! studio ghibli au!

ೃ warnings: mild use of weapons and strong language

ೃ part 1/2 of the princess mononoke! au

ೃ word count 4.119 words

ೃ 2/??? of @bukojuiice’s studio ghibli au

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ Loosely based off of Princess Mononoke! Not necessarily a word for word retelling/alternate universe. You can read on without any prior knowledge of this beautiful Studio Ghibli film. Hope you enjoy!

ೃ if you want to be part of this studio ghibli au taglist, send me an ask! or if you want to be a part of my mha taglist in general, send me an ask indicating whichever you want to be a part of!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ shoto todoroki’s fic (howl’s moving castle au) for those of you who want to read the first in this series!

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 @sparkykatsuki @ramunegoddess

ೃ Katsuki Bakugo is the righteous yet arrogant village prince of the east. The entire village relies on him for protection and for guidance, further inflating his ego. however, after a cursed boar attacks him and the curse is passed on to him as a poisonous mark on his arm, slowly consuming him until he becomes a demon himself. he is exiled without hesitance from his village and is to go on a journey to look for a cure, a journey he might never come back from. With the help of two of his most trusted allies, he embarks on a journey to look for the gods of the forest in where he meets a girl (just as striking as him) who brings him back down to earth, saves him and make him experience a true life worth living.

“Damn this life.” Katsuki curses under his breath, rolling up his sleeves, and collecting clear water from the riverbend and transferring it into his jar.

“Hey! This isn’t that bad!” Eijiro Kirishima, son of the second in command to Katsuki’s mother, his most trusted ally and #2 most annoying fucker on this planet, cheekily grins, patting the blonde on the back. “We’ve gone through worse things in the past. And yet here we are! We’re still alive! Aren’t we?”

“Yea! We’ll find the forest gods soon! Offer food for them and hopefully they give us a cure! This is going to be easy!” Denki Kaminari, another one of his most trusted allies, grandson of one of the wise elders, and #1 most annoying fucker on this planet, reassures his friend whilst aimlessly fixing the saddle on his elk.

Why did life have to be like this?

Who did Katsuki Bakugo infuriate from high above to have this tremendous bad luck and fate be put upon him? All he wanted was to live a noble life as a village prince, have his mother pass down her position of power onto him, become the new village chief, live a life of prosperity, help his people, and then pass away with no regrets. But life just had to do this to him no?

After an unexpected attack of a raging cursed boar consumed by black slithering enigmas in the hills of Mustafu village, the handsome village prince was the only one able of combat who was around the vicinity at the time. He had no choice but to hurl himself in front of the boar, shooting one of his famed arrows, sharper than most and one of the best in his arsenal. The boar had met its demise by his hands. However, not without getting revenge at Katsuki, by passing its curse onto him. The black ooze slithering onto his arm before the animal had fully perished.

That was the worst day of his life.

As the son of the village chief and as one of the most well-known individuals in his tribe, how was he supposed to react?

Katsuki had always been number one. Never once slipping to loss or to failure. Never getting injured. Never letting his guard down. Never disappointing his parents. Never losing his pride nor his mighty personality.

He was the paragon of success.

But, sometimes, the best people feel lost and useless too.

The fact that his mother had easily let go of him, have the wise villager elders speak ill of him and banish him, having to leave everything he had loved and worked hard for, lose his position as a prince, and have the people of his village look at him in abhorrence and disgust, had ended up becoming the most painful experiences he ever had to go through in his entire life.

Leaving quietly at the dead of the night with no proper goodbyes but a brief hug, gift of a good luck charm from his mother, and the willing accompaniment of his two most trusted friends (although he would not like to admit the appreciation he has for them, he was very grateful) on this fruitless journey… He could never have it any other way.

What kind of life was he even going to lead from here on forth?

He didn’t want to stop believing. He didn’t want to lose hope. This wasn’t like him. Katsuki Bakugo knew who he was. He knows how headstrong he is, how prideful, persevering, and how much of a smart-ass he is. He had no time to sulk and contemplate about his demise and what fate had in store for him.

Although, it would be nice if he could release all these pent-up emotions and frustrations at least once. Just once.

He just has no idea how to and who to open up to.

Putting his vulnerable emotions aside, he is going to defy his destiny and take down whatever may come his way.

Making sure no one was going to stop him from doing so.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki jerks his head, gesturing his party members to start walking to the other side of the forest.

“Wait… haven’t we gone there already?” Kaminari protests, not raising his voice nor overreacting because even he knew that Katsuki was on a bad mood as per usual. (With this being the second afternoon of their journey and because they have to leave their animal companions by the river due to how unstable the geographical and terrestrial properties of the forest were.)

Katsuki shoots him a glare, the other blonde clearing the lump in his throat in response. “Okay okay! Let’s go then!”

They quietly navigate through the forest, hearing nothing but the sound of their own feet stepping on the grass, crickets chirping, fireflies flying about, the towering trees swaying with the wind, and the calming yet lonely atmosphere of the woodlands to accompany them.

“Kirishima.” Bakugo calls out coldly. “Are you sure that this is the same forest depicted in the legends?”

“Positive.” Kirishima replies, nodding aimlessly whilst turning his head and taking in their surroundings. “If we spot some Kodama, that means we’re near the tree that stands alone.”

“Tree that stands alone?” Denki asks, tilting his head and sparking a discussion. “Also, what even is a Kodama?”

“You’re the grandson of a village elder yet you’re asking me?” Eijiro narrows his eyes at his other blonde friend. “Kodama are the little white spirits who live in trees. They don’t necessarily guide travelers but instead watch them. They only intervene if ever anything bad happens. If we see them appear then that means we’re close to the spiritual core of the forest. The tree that gives life.”

Yakushima Forest. Located in the southern region, is the settlement of the forest gods and the place where the oldest trees of Japan and those known to man stand strongly. The power and the spiritual energy stored in this wonderous and enchanting forest could only be seen and could only be discovered by heroes and travelers with a pure of heart as the forest was welcoming only to visitors with pure and selfless intentions. However, to those who wish to exploit it and to ruin its beauty will be punished heavily by the gods in the most gruesome ways possible.

Katsuki breathes out a hefty sigh, leading his two other friends who were happily following him from behind. There was this bizarre feeling of anxiety welling up inside him. He was not himself and he couldn’t tell why. All he could do was pretend to remain calm and collected…

He will find that cure.

He will be able to save himself and he will be able to come back to his village, victorious and free of the curse.

Bakugo stops in his tracks when they encounter another streaming river. His two companions almost bump into him with how abrupt he halted in his steps.

There was something amiss in the river.

It wasn’t a bad spirit nor was it some bad energy, but Katsuki could feel something.

There was someone else there.

And he felt that they weren’t exactly the friendly type who would help them.

“Bakugo-sama, why did we stop-“ Kaminari is hushed by his blonde friend before he could even have the chance to utter another word. Kirishima quickly picked up what Katsuki is trying to motion to them and proceeds to quietly scout around the area. “There’s a girl? Wolves too.” He whispers from behind a bush not far from where his friends were standing.

“Let’s go back to the nearby village. Stay at the inn there.” Bakugo whispers sternly, as if not wanting to hear any other remarks from his friends.

“Wait! Bakugo, I know we’re near the tree. Why stop now!?” Kirishima fussed. He knew something was up. “We’re pretty close. We can just set up a fire here then-“

“I said let’s head back. Damn it.” Katsuki repeated his words. This time, in a sort of a growl. “If you don’t want to go back, feel free to die here if you want.” He starts treading back to the path where they came from. Denki looks at his red-headed friend worriedly, even he, of all people, had finally noticed that there was something wrong with their most beloved village prince. Kirishima nods at him cautiously, the two of them walking together behind Bakugo.

They quickly got back to the small village near the forest with no interruption, as the chit-chatter and the energy radiating between both Kirishima and Kaminari were low as Katsuki was in a even terrible mood, refusing to talk to any of them nor humoring their antics and small jokes.

They continue to spend the rest of their day in silence. With, Katsuki, immediately heading back to his quarters to rest whilst his two other companions remained outside to help some village folk and prepare dinner.

The village chieftain of the quaint settlement had a good relationship with Katsuki’s mother. They were good trade partners and the village chief wanted to do everything in their power to help Katsuki be free of the curse by the means of giving him a private inn to stay in and come back to whenever he and his friends would like to. It wasn’t much, but Katsuki needed all the help he could get on this otherwise hopeless quest. Even if he refused the said offers at first.

After another awfully quiet bonding time with Bakugo at dinner, the convivial duo had to break the silence. Denki had thought of the most wonderful idea of bringing up the topic of the girl who was accompanied by wolves in the forest. Because, hey, it’s a girl in the forest! What could possibly be weird about that?

“Hey! So about that girl that we saw…” Kaminari suddenly speaks up, nudging Kirishima in the arm, signaling him to answer his query. Bakugo barely looks up at the sound of his friend’s yapping, continuing to play with the food on his bowl. “Who do you think was she?”

“She’s most probably the wolf princess.” Eijiro shrugs casually, biting on a roasted corncob. “Yakushima forest is protected by the three animal gods whom we know by now as the forest gods. The Wolf goddess, The Gorilla king, and The Deer god. The Deer god being the most powerful of them all. There have been rumors and reports going around that the goddess had taken in an abandoned human girl, and was treated as one of their kin years ago. The girl holds pure resentment for her own kind and chooses to live in the Yakushima forest, taking down every single human who has negative intentions and evil plans for the land she lives in.”

“Well, if she’s that badass, then you shouldn’t call her a princess. She’s a queen!” Kaminari remarks, biting on his newly roasted corncob, listening eagerly to Kirishima’s tale. Bakugo looks up at Denki and the goofy blonde could have sworn he saw a small smile form on Katsuki’s face.

Kirishima laughs at his friend’s little quip, “You’re right. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“You weirdos should get to sleep. We go back to the forest first thing in the morning.” Katsuki stands up from his seat, his hands in his pockets, grumpily trotting away to the inn.

“Oh.” Denki blinks. “That was faster than I thought. I didn’t expect him to be convinced so easily. Did you pull that story from your ass Kirishima-kun?”

The red-haired teen shook his head. “Nope. All of that was real.”

“For real? You’re not joking?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodnight then!” The other blonde leaves his seat, patting Eijiro in the arm before leaving and going back to his quarters.

Kirishima looks up at the glistening night sky, a few stars present in the sky to greet him a wonderful night, the boy hoping he would find an answer amongst the stars. “May the gods help us in our adventure.” He breathes a hefty sigh, closing his eyes. After a few more minutes of praying for guidance, he puts out the fire and retreats back to his room.

The night passes by quickly, another day of their adventure waiting to unfold.

“Don’t you dare come back here you disgusting prince.”

“No one wants him here! Got it? Let him go on this adventure and never come back!”

“He’s just a burden. To be cursed by an animal as simple as a boar? Pathetic.”

“Useless vermin.”

“Banished forever? How sad.”

“A prince falling from grace? Predictable.”

The voices of the village people echo in his head.

These were words from them that he was not meant to hear. Ones that he accidentally heard before leaving that same night. These were the words that will haunt him forever.

He, Katsuki Bakugo, of all people, would let all these horrid, vile, and false words get to him?

These were the same words with the same meaning that he’s heard hundreds and hundreds of times from different people, yet it never got to him. He chose to ignore them.

But, why now? What was going on? Why was he feeling this way?

Katsuki awakens at the dead of the night. Beads of sweat falling from his temples, his breath hitched and his body aching. He was not himself right now and this intense feeling of uneasiness and torment confirmed it. Although, he wanted to keep this to himself. He didn’t want anybody else to know what he was feeling. He could overcome this on his own. He could do this all on his own.

“I’ll show them.” He continues to breathe at a fast pace, still a bit shocked by the nightmare he had just seen. “I’ll fucking show them that I am the prince of the Mustafu tribe.” He props himself up from his sleeping mat, reaching for his neatly folded clothes beside him. “And nothing’s going to change that.”

Katsuki begins to get dressed, feeling nothing but anger and determination running through his veins. He puts on his grey vest and wraps his red cape onto his back. He continues to put on his ensemble when a sudden rush of pain begins to throb in his arm. Bakugo’s immediate reaction is to curl up, holding his stomach to try and ease the pain.

The curse was acting up again, reacting to the anger and negative emotions that Katsuki was feeling right now. The blonde winces in pain, kneeling down on the floor to take a hold of his arm that was manifesting a glowing blue and black aura. His muscle continues to throb and he could do nothing but hold it down and take in all the pain until it eventually goes away.

After several minutes of resisting and trying to ease the pain by thinking of more positive and enlightening thoughts, the throbbing suddenly stops. Bakugo goes back to breathing at a normal pace. He rests for a few minutes, making sure that his body was functioning properly once more before he quickly heads out of his private room to head to back to Yakushima forest, searching for answers. He didn’t have time to wait for Kirishima and Kaminari anymore. He was growing impatient, and hearing the haunting words of his village people circling in his head fueled his will power to get this whole ordeal done and head back home.

It was finally the end of another day protecting the forest.

You were about on your daily patrol with the wolf goddess and your wolf siblings, when you encounter three young men who looked like they were lost in the woods. You immediately assumed that they were looking for the tree of life. But they weren’t like the others. They weren’t finding it for selfish reasons. They were looking for it in hopes to find a cure for a curse. That’s what their auras were trying to show at least.

One of those men particularly piqued your interest.

He was… handsome? Was that the word that humans used?

He had ash blonde hair that spiked upwards at all angles, passionate red orbs that gave him such a striking appearance, as if he could hold up the world in his hands. Calloused hands that had taken a part in many battles, a muscular build like that of a noble warrior, a shining sword just as big as him and an arrow that he looked like he was adept at using.

Yet despite your observations, there was this mysterious air around him that you just couldn’t understand.

“(Y/N)? Dear? Is anything wrong?” The elegant white wolf goddess, Moro, calls out to her human daughter, with a worried look.

“I saw 3 dorks by the riverbend on our patrol a while ago.” You say rather jokingly, trying to remember their faces. “I should have struck them down when I had the chance.” You shake your head, reaching for the knife in your skirt and grasping it.

“How so?” The goddess twitches her ear, as if raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you feel any bad spirits within them? Any emotional aura? I told you to do that before attempting to attack anyone remember?”

“There was this particular man among them who had strong energy. He was radiating a gloomy yet aggressive energy. Like that of a person hiding their true emotions to remain strong and brave to the outside world. I kind of felt sorry for him.” Your voice trails off as you nestle your body next to the wolf goddess, along with your siblings who were cuddled up next to you too.

“Why don’t you go check up on him then?” Moro replies casually, as if teasing you. You raise your head up, feeling a tint shade of pink appear on your cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

A shrieking noise began to ring in your ears, signaling that a human has entered the forest. You quickly rise up from the bed of leaves you were sleeping in. Running out of the cave, you gallop down a slope and sprint your way to the foot of the forest. The spirits guiding you to where you needed to go.

You feel the hostile energy yet again.

Could it be the young man from earlier?

When he enters your field of vision, you climb up the nearest tree to get a clearer look at him from above and from afar.

He still had the same expression plastered upon his face since this afternoon. An irritated and scornful look, yet there was kindness in his eyes that you couldn’t describe.

It wasn’t the kindness that you would see from the eyes of a regular person but it was a kindness that was combined with a desire to protect the people around him. It was different and oddly comforting.

You continue to observe his every move, waiting for him to mess up or try to hurt the magical properties of the forest before you confront him to ask why the hell was he even roaming around in the forest, in the middle of night like a fluffy dog.

Katsuki noticed you standing on the tree-tops.

You weren’t exactly the greatest hide and seek player.

However, he chose to shrug you off and ignore you as he continues to look for traces of spiritual energy that could lead him to the tree of life.

Based on the stories that Kirishima had told, he was actually a bit surprised by your appearance. He couldn’t make out your face with the mask that you were wearing but he noticed your mildly disheveled hair, the ragged clothes you had on, a cape made of white fur and a necklace adorned with three fangs hanging on your neck. From that alone, he knew you were a princess. Not your conventional princess per se with all the jewelry, intricate headpieces and beautiful dresses but, the presence that you have has sort of a dignified feel to it. You might not look like the part but you embodied everything that a princess should be. Headstrong, intelligent, confident in her beliefs, and never afraid to stand her ground.

That’s what Katsuki thinks at least.

With all the stories that Kirishima had recited about the Yakushima forest, you were one of the most interesting bits.

Katsuki Bakugo was enthralled by you in more ways than one.

You were a mysterious enigma that he had to unravel.

You were getting a bit tired of watching him aimlessly roam around the forest. He was absolutely going nowhere which is funny because he didn’t strike you as a person who had no sense of direction. In an alternate universe, he’d probably be kidnapped by some villain or bad guy if he continued to be reckless like this, just walking around without a care in the world.

You spoke too soon.

You barely dodge a sharp arrow that pierces through a tree. It wasn’t from the young man you were watching but from someone else. Thieves. two of them.

You forgot that you weren’t able to sense other humans entering the forest if you focus on a particular one. It completely slipped your mind that there would still be sick individuals who would try and attempt to find the riches of the forest despite the many incidents happening time and time again warning humans to not enter the Yakushima Forest if they want to explore it for their own selfish desires.

You hastily jump down onto the ground, releasing a flurry of punches and kicks at the thieves, knocking 2 of them unconscious. You thought that the fight was over until you hear agonizing screams from the other side of the forest.

You quickly sprint your way there, hoping nothing serious had happened and no one was hurt in the process.

You arrived in a secluded area, tall trees covering the sun or the moon for the light to seep into, resulting in a dark and gloomy atmosphere.

You stop in your tracks when you notice six thieves unconscious on the ground too. You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when you notice that the boy was panting heavily, injuries and deep wounds were present all around his body. He was terribly injured. He stares at you for a few seconds before collapsing onto the ground.

You grit your teeth, approaching him with a scornful look. “You’ve wasted your life by getting in my way!” You sheathe his blade from it’s scabbard, pointing it directly to his chest. Katsuki’s chest rises up and down, a sign showing that he was breathing normally but was at the brink of unconsciousness.

“I’ll cut your throat! That will shut you up!”

“You’re beautiful…”

He mumbles, his eyes fluttering open, making intense eye contact with yours.

You suddenly feel your heart race, thumping loudly. You pull the sword away and jump away from him. You were taken aback by his words because of how he caught you off guard just like that. Who gave him the right to do this to you? Who was he in the first place?

Why did he make you feel all these soft and mushy feelings right now?

Who gave him the right to do this to you?

A human being?

A feeling sparking in your chest...

Is this what humans call love?

- To be continued.

337 notes · View notes

silkling · 3 years

Note

Hey, Can you make (Bayverse) Starscream meets (TFP) Knock Out?

Knock Out came to with an aching helm and a curse on his lips. He groaned as he sat up, one palm dressing to his forehead and blinking away the static overlaying his vision. He looked around himself once he could see clearly, pausing when he noticed that he was in the middle of an organic forest. The realization made his upper lip curl faintly, and he looked down at himself. And that was when he froze in horror. His finish! It was ruined! There were scrapes in the paint and he was covered in all manner of dirt and other organic filth. He hated it. The medic scowled as he stood, red optics shining with rage. Whoever was responsible for this was going to pay very dearly, he decided. For now, though, he had to get back to base.

He paused as he heard jet engines overhead, optics narrowing. Now, was that one of the little squishies or was it one of the Decepticons? That question was answered when there was the sound of a transformation and a heavy metal form crashed through the tree tops to land in front of him. A red gaze landed on him, and Knock Out could see rage and disgust building in the flyer’s optics before he paused. The look was replaced with confusion and suspicion, and then he spoke.

“Autobots do not usually have red optics.” he growled, voice deep and with a permanent growl woven into it. “Yet I know of no Decepticon who wears such bright colors.” Those optics narrowed to pinpricks. “Speak, stranger. Who are you?”

It was at this point the medic paused. How did this flyer not know who he was? Knock Out was the only proper doctor in the entirety of the Decepticon army. (No, Hook did not count. He did not have the training or the license, for all he had the learned skill). All the others had been offlined in the War. He would have thought that every bot on either side knew him, if only because they knew what he was.

“I am Knock Out.” he said carefully. “And who are you?”

The flyer grinned here, the look savage and far to gleeful for his comfort. “I am Starscream, second in command of the Decepticons!” he announced.

Knock Out blinked slowly, once, twice, then a third time, before fury twisted his features and he let loose a litany of vicious, filthy curses in Cybertronian, combining several dialects and even throwing in one or two curses from the dead languages he’d enjoyed studying in his youth. It made Starscream rear back, optics wide with shock and and EM field buzzing with disbelief. After several long minutes, in which the Seeker could only stare in a growing sense of horrified fascination, (wait, Knock threatened to do what with an engine and an intake? Ouch. Starscream did not want to be in the place of whatever poor fool as angered the bright red Cybertronian), the Aston Martin spit out one last curse before his expression smoothed over and he turned to the Seeker. Starscream, by this point, had taken several steps back and was now hoping that this bot wouldn’t turn his ire on him.

“So sorry about that.” Knock Out said lightly. “I’m afraid I just understood how I got here, and the mech responsible for this mess is going to feel every bit of my wrath when I return.”

Starscream blinked. “I…see.” he said carefully.

Knock Out smirked. “I don’t think you do, so allow me to re-introduce myself.” He stepped forward, crossing an arm across his chest. “My name is Knock Out.” he said with a flourish. “Chief medic to the Decepticons.” he finished his introduction with a dramatic bow.

Starscream sneered. “Impossible!” he snarled. “The Decepticons have no medic. Our last one was offlined by Optimus Prime. This must be some puny Autobot trick!

Knock Out blinked. “Goodness, Sweet Rims actually offlined a bot that wasn’t just a Vehicon drone?” he mused. “This really is different.”

The Seeker reared back, reeling over the fact that this so-called “medic” had just called Optimus Prime Sweet Rims, of all things. Then the second statement caught up to him and he frowned. “Different.” he repeated in a deadpan.

“Yes!” Knock Out threw his hands to the air, the gesture wide and dramatic. “You see, my dear Starscream,” he purred, clasping his hands behind his back. “I am from another dimension entirely.”

Well, that was a new one.

“Explain.”

“In my world, the Great War between the Decepticons and Autobots ended up being brought to a small organic planet called Earth. I assume it’s the same here.” he said, gesturing around them. “Recently, Lord Megatron, that is, my Lord Megatron became aware of the existence of the Iacon Relics. They’re powerful artifacts that were stored in the vaults of Iacon before it’s destruction, and sent away from the planet before they could come into Decepticon possession.” he said. “Lord Megatron learned that possessing the relics granted whoever had them a rather significant advantage, especially certain specific relics like the Relics of the Primes.”

Starscream snorted. “Get to the point.”

Knock Out sighed dramatically. “Oh, very well.” he drawled. “The point is: myself and my partner were sent to retrieve a relic that had only just began putting out a detectable signal. According to our data files on it, it had been created by the old Senate before the war. Unfortunately, the research notes on the subject were corrupted, but what little of the research was clear suggested that the device had been created to study the multiverse theory.” Here, he paused and glanced around himself. “Given that you’re Starscream, and the Starscream I know looks nothing like you, and you do not know me, and the Decepticons have no medic…” he trailed off, raising his hands, palms up as he shrugged. “It would seem that the device was for more than just researching the multiverse theory. The last thing I remember is grabbing it and making for the ground bridge, only for that Pit damned Wrecker to shoot the device in hopes of keeping it from falling into Decepticon hands. Then there was a flash of light and a surge of energy, and what do you know, I’m waking up here!” he finished, through his arms out with a flourish.

Starscream frowned. That…actually lined up. He had been sent ahead of Sideways and Barricade, who were also on their way to this location, because the sensors at the hidden Decepticon base had picked up a surge of unknown energy. If Knock Out was the cause of that surge, and given the fact he was here at its location he might very well be, then it would stand to reason that his story was actually true. Even aside from that, Starscream could pick up no deception in his field or EM field. Granted, bots could still lie even without their voices or fields giving it away, but Starscream was a master at lying, and prided himself on being able to sniff out deception like a turbo-fox sniffing out cyber-rats. Nothing he could tell suggested Knock Out was lying. Which meant his story was, at the very least, partly true.

“I see.” he said, voice devoid of any intonation.

The medic narrowed his optics at the seeming non-reaction, his arms crossing almost delicately in front of his chassis. Something about the way this Starscream had said that made his instincts itch. He didn’t like it. This version of the Air Commander was so very different from his. His Starscream was more skittish and wary, though that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, given how his Megatron treated his second in command, the Aston Martin was entirely unsurprised at his Starscream’s more lacking confidence. As of late, Lord Megatron had been….well, even more unhinged than usual. Given how Megatron had taken to lashing out at Starscream for ever petty grievance, it was no wonder the more lithe Seeker was jumpy. This Starscream had many of the same core personality traits, from what he could see, but his behavior was quite a bit different.

“You needn’t worry about me causing any issues in your world.” he said airily, forcing his processor back in track. He dusted some dried dirt of off arm, lip curling upwards in disgust as the stuff flaked off his armor. “I’ll find a place to lay low and stay out of sight of any locals, be it Cybertronian or human. I’m certain Lord Megatron will either fix the device if it was broken or retrieve it if it was stolen and find a way to bring me back.” he said airily. His tone was confident, and though his words sounded like it, he wasn’t bragging.

It was a fact. The Decepticons needed him. None of the others knew how to do proper medical care. Breakdown could certainly perform the simpler procedures, and most soldiers knew basic field care, but Knock Out was the only one who could handle the injuries that went beyond that. Without him, the Decepticons of his world wouldn’t be able to heal their injured soldiers, which would mean more ‘Cons would die and they’d eventually deplete their numbers enough to put the Autobots at an advantage. As vain as it may sound, Knock Out knew that, right after Megatron and Soundwave, he was the most essential member of the Decepticon forces when it came to keeping the faction running,

Starscream clearly didn’t like his tone of voice, however, because the Seeker growled in displeasure. “Oh? And what makes you so certain?”

Knock Out snorted, one optic ridge arching up. “Oh, don’t get so sour.” he admonished. “I told you, I am the Chief Medic to the Decepticons. I am also, however, their only medic. I can put mechs back together from scrap metal, if I must.” he made a vague gesture with his hand. “I do not mean to sound so vain, but I am very much needed by the Decepticon forces back home.” he said airily. “I’m the only trained, licensed medic they have, after all.”

Starscream stared at him for a long moment, and Knock Out did not like the suddenly considering look in his sharp gaze. “I see.” he narrowed his eyes. “So you’re a skillful medic, then?”

The red mech paused. “I’m not as good as Ratchet,” he said carefully. “But I was in the top of the field before the War broke out.”

Starscream smirked, then, the expression showing just a hint of teeth. Knock about suddenly had a very, very bad feeling. “I see.” the Seeker repeated, sounding sickeningly pleased.

There was the sound of pede steps behind them, and two mechs stepped out from the foliage. Starscream lifted his gaze, head tilting with a dark grin. “Barricade, Sideways.” he hummed. “I see you finally made it.” He flashed teeth in an expression that bordered on a sneer. “I’d like you two to meet Knock Out,” He gestured at the increasingly tense medic. “Our newest medic.” He finished with a vicious grin.

Knock Out tensed, his armor plating clamping closed and tight. Oh, he’d been right. He didn’t like this. “Excuse me?” he hissed.

He was ignored. The two new mechs glanced at each other, then looked at him, clearly unimpressed. “He’s a medic? He’s very…bright. Is he a ‘Bot? The silver one asked, sounding dubious.

Starscream hummed. “No, Knock Out here is a certified Deception medic. We’ve been unable to fix any injured warriors properly ever since Prime took out Scalpel. Our new friend here is from…somewhere else.” he smirked. “But he should fill Scalpels’s pedes quite well.”

The black and white mech shrugged. “Works for me. He’s real colorful alright, but he looks too sharp for an Autobot. And Autobots’s don’t have red optics, either.” he sounded bemused.

Knock Out, by this point, had enough if being ignored. His hand transformed into his saw, and the blade whirled to life. “I think,” he snarled. “You will find that I am not quite so willing to go along with you, Starscream. I’ll be found by my own eventually, so I suggest you and your little friends frag off and leave me be.” he hissed.

There was the sound of smaller transformations, and all three mechs were pointing weapons at him. “Weapon away, doctor.” Starscream said, sickeningly sweet. “You are outnumbered, and if you offline one of us the other two will have you subdued easily enough.”

Knock Out snarled furiously, his engine all but roaring with his rage, but he knew the Seeker was right. He did as he was told, and the two mechs behind him stepped up, one on either side, to grip his arms and force them behind his back. He glared at the Seeker, gaze promising pain.

Starscream only stepped closer, reaching out to tap the medic’s chin with a finger. “I think, Knock Out,” He said with a dark grin. “That you will find Lord Megatron reluctant to simply allow you to be stolen away now that we have you. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if he orders Soundwave and perhaps even Shockwave to develop a way to ensure you cannot be tracked and retrieved by your friends.” He leaned in close, lips twisting in a mocking sneer. “You belong to us now, little medic.”

Knock Out was tense, his processor racing. This was bad. If that was true, then he doubted he’d be able to ever return home. Unless he could get away now, that is. But he likely wouldn’t be able to. He was the smallest mech here. All three of the duller Decepticons were taller and bulkier than he was. He wouldn’t be able to fight all of them. The medic growled, low and angry, and leaned forward against the hold the other two had on him. It caused their claws to dig into and scratch the paint of his arms, but for once he didn’t care. He got as close to Starscream’s face as he could, eyes holding dark promise.

“You had better pray to Primus that you never end up on my medical berth, Starscream.” He said, voice low. “Because while I may fix you, I will also ensure that your stay in my medical bay makes the Unmaker’s Pits seem like the Well of All Sparks.”

There was a rough laugh behind him, and then he was being yanked away from the still Seeker. “Come on, Doc. Time to get moving.” The silver mech grinned.

He was guided firmly through the forest, until they came to an empty road. He obeyed the cold order to transform from the black and white mech, and then they two larger bots followed suit and boxed him in. Making sure to keep the red medic trapped between them, they drove back towards the Decepticon base, the newest acquisition of the Deceptions firmly in tow.

Back at the clearing where Knock Out had appeared, Starscream remained frozen for a moment longer. Suddenly, he felt like he might have made his decision just a little too hastily, and he remembered the creative threats and curses the smaller bit had spat out. If Knock Out was actually capable of even half the things he had threatened in that little spiel, and Starscream got the unpleasant feeling he was, then he very, very much did in fact hope he never had to go to the medic for repairs. Though, given his luck as of late…he had a feeling he’d be seeing the doctor sooner than he thought.

Frag.

#request fic #silkling request fics #tfp knockout #bayverse starscream #knockout #Starscream #TFP #transformers prime #transformers bayverse #bayformers #transformers crossover #Starscream makes a mistake #angry knock out is scary #Starscream has regrets #knock out is gonna kill all of them out of spite #just you watch #maccadam

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inscribed-in-asteroids · 3 years

Text

AN: Took a while but here’s chapter six! Make sure to reblog and like, or leave comments and kudos on AO3, which is still the best place to read it.

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak and Entrapta, feat. Glimmer, Bow, Aurora and Eon (OCs)

Rating: M (for smut)

Repairing Harm Done

Hordak walks through the center of their new home away from home. Entrapta and he share their enjoyment of space, and going on adventures with her has been some of the greatest years of his life; however, Beast Island has been transformed into a multicultural landscape, where anyone could come here if they wanted, and stay here if they chose. While Odessa has been away with her friends, they opted to expand the lodgings here to accommodate growing numbers. Talon and he weren’t the only ones with children, and even without offspring, his siblings were finding life partners, and to add on top of that, visitors from nearby planets come to Etheria as well and, sometimes, like it so much they wish to remain.

Upon this realization, they made an organization to discuss blueprints, schedules and funding for such a project. The funding was no issue: Glimmer and Bow were more than happy to aid them, and have visited the island several times now to see what else was needed. It wasn’t necessarily money they needed, either, as everything on Beast Island was based on a trade system and very loosely; they have utilized the technology on the island well, and created elaborate new machines for daily living. Glimmer and Bow, simply put, love being involved. They offer their expertise, Bow on his own inventions and Glimmer with her magic, but they were enthusiastic to be present at all.

He notes his brothers above him in the trees, connecting large trunks with man-made bridges, where a community of apartments will be launched high above them. The groves are to be interconnected this way, allowing for more freedom of development and making use of every inch of the island, eventually establishing long pathways that will join all shores of the island. This will be the new dwelling place for many of the citizens on Beast Island, while the area he’s moving through will serve as the marketplace, with recreational centers, hospitals, schools and restaurants lined throughout the ground floor. They have been constructing it for a while, but high demand has allowed for a speedier process to take place. Underground it will be primarily used for laboratories, as he and Odessa have the largest ones. It’s also their excavation site for First Ones tech, which they still continue to find more than twenty years later, the deeper into the earth they go; it’ll also serve as their mausoleum, for when those days come.

Animals chirp in the branches, shadows moving along his frame. Looking up, he meets the eyes of his brothers hammering boards into place, and they wave down at him. Being in a good mood, he waves back—

A sharp pang goes up his shoulder. Wincing in surprise, Hordak holds his hand up for a moment. Confused, he shakes off the sensation and continues toward the direction of his residence. Opening the door, Hordak steps inside.

“Entrapta? I’ve returned,” Hordak announces.

No answer.

She must be out. Maybe he’ll go check up on Emily and Imp. The latter has been growing, which came as a surprise to everyone. No one believed Imp could actually get bigger. It’s about the time Imp needs to have tests run to check if he’s still healthy as his body develops, Hordak muses, beginning to climb up the steps—

His legs suddenly lock, and they buckle, causing him to sprawl on the floor. His palms and knees slam into the hard stone, sending waves of pain up his frame. Another shortly follows, stabbing through his body. And it’s never one type of stab—it’s sharp, a knife slashing through; or painfully dull, akin to being jabbed with a worn, flat spear. It may not cut, but it’s relentless. And he can’t ever tell which is worse.

Trying to stand, he finds himself unable to. He pushes up with his hands, and the pain stings up his nerves, all the way to his neck.

Hordak lets out a breath of shock, of anger, of fear.

No.

No no no no no no no—

He looks down at his hands, and the color recedes—the blue drains, melting from elbow down, streaks forming along his wrist, and he can feel them weaken at the shoulder.

Hordak yells out loud, hunched over from the agony, watching as his forearms split in two without warning right down the middle until they’re merely the width of bone within the muscles thinning blood flow slowing unable to move or feel or sense or know why—

Hordak lets out a cry of shock, jolting himself up. Breathing hard, he turns to his right. Moonlight cuts through the dark of his bedroom, the blinds never being tightly sealed enough for his liking. But for once, he’s relieved to see it.

His head falls into his hands, and he breathes in. Breathes out. He withdraws to look at them. His forearms show no signs of disease, stark in the dim room. His shoulders move as they should, and he rotates them to be sure. He claws the air with his fingers, two quick movements. Then he lets them go toward his palm, slowly, pinky first as the rest follow, moving in synchronicity. He repeats this motion four more times, and none of them hurt.

Entrapta shifts beside him, her arm reaching out for his body. Automatic. When she finds only the pillow, Entrapta opens her eyes. She props herself up on an elbow, reaching out to touch her husband.

“Hordak? Are you okay?”

Blinking, Hordak turns to look at her. Her hair is loose about her body, draping across her shoulders in long strands. She doesn’t wear clothes to bed, finding it more comfortable. She followed his example on that one. After decades of being in pain, he didn’t want to be constricted as he slept. It reminded him too much of how often he had to be bound in place by something or another to keep from falling apart. His body was attached by sinew and muscle, like anyone else, but it never felt like that. It always felt like one small gesture would render him incapacitated, and his shoulders would fall from their sockets.

Entrapta sits up, touching the small of his back, “Did you have a bad dream?”

Hordak sighs, “I… did.”

Entrapta brushes the side of his face, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hordak reaches up to take her hand in his, “It… It was the usual dream.”

Sidling next to him, Entrapta lays her head on his shoulder, “I know. It’s scary.”

He lets out a breath, unable to disagree. Adora had fixed him, permanently, in that other lifetime. Horde Prime wouldn’t allow something defective in his midst, so his body had been healed at the expense of his mind’s free will. But when Adora expelled Prime out, he was released from the confines of both mental and physical anguish.

He knows this.

His body has not known that pain in many, many years.

But there are days when he’s walking, sitting, breathing, and his thoughts turn to anxiety. Anxiety about the day, the moment, when his body will fail him again. He exercises every day, relishing in the activity he had been denied. The strength and power and agility that he long forgot about and wishes to keep. He makes sure to have that routine set out for himself, to have those thoughts at bay, to stop worrying him. He recalls how nervous he’d been when Odessa had been born—to have his daughter in his arms, and he would panic about the pain coming back and he can’t grab her in time before she collapses onto the floor and she dies. In a second, just like that.

Pulling his knees up, Hordak stretches his arms out onto them, giving a heavy sigh.

Entrapta rotates a bit, brushing his hair out.

“Entrapta?”

“Yes?”

“Can you check?”

Without further question, Entrapta moves forward, inspecting his back first. She notes the perfect coloration of his body, from neck to fingertip. Drawing aside the covers, she makes similar mental notes from his hips down to his feet. She looks up at him, smiling, “You’ve never looked better!”

Hordak sighs, relieved.

Entrapta lays her cheek on his forearm, “And I do mean that.”

He meets her eyes, and she wiggles her eyebrows.

Hordak laughs, allowing the anxiety to leave him, “You’re a pervert.”

Entrapta’s grin widens, “Can you blame me?”

Hordak leans forward to kiss her forehead. And she tilts her head back so their mouths can touch. Her hand caresses the side of his cheek, and he relaxes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispers, after a good while.

“Don’t worry about it,” Entrapta says. She pushes him onto his back, brushing her thumb along his mouth. “You’re not alone, you know.”

Hordak nods, staring up at the ceiling. Entrapta lays next to him, and she taps her chest.

Without a word, he turns, burying his face into her collarbone. Warm and inviting.

Her hands play with his hair, humming quietly. Stroking her fingertips down his neck, careful of the port located there. Entrapta doesn’t stop until he’s taking measured breaths, long and deep; once he does, only then does she fall back asleep.

Hordak steps out into the bright outdoors. Everything is in place. From the new construction in the trees, to the bustling shoppers around him, and, below, he knows Imp and Emily are taking ownership of Odessa’s lab while she’s away, as they tend to when she’s absent. Her friends are missed as well, and he will admit to himself, it’s good for her to have them.

Tristan’s general apathy tends to keep him anchored, but it lifts away as soon as he knows she’s back home, becoming more involved and energetic. Hydrangea’s eagerness to keep peace always stays in place, but she defers to Odessa’s knowledge and skill more often than with anyone else. Hordak knows that there could be no better allies to his daughter than those two.

They’ve been her friends since childhood, and they gravitated toward one another in a manner he found interesting. Despite being born a clone, he knows who he is, and he tends to keep to himself, save for Entrapta’s presence. His brothers tend to be more gregarious, which baffled him at first on how willing they were to interact with Etherians, and he surmised that, even among replicas, he stands out as incredibly reclusive. There are a few who took to his more stern and introverted nature, of course, he isn’t unique to averting social events, but he continues to have the shortest temper, if pushed enough, and is withdrawn. Talon is one of those individuals to match it, as he tends to be around his wife alone, but he doesn’t mind the spotlight, and that’s their difference.

Hordak’s gotten better at being around others, but he finds it exhausting after a while. Entrapta says that’s okay, and she wouldn’t change that about him and has outright stated to prefer it. Large groups are only ‘fun’ to watch, not be part of.

Odessa, meanwhile, enjoyed company, and Tristan was the first person she brought home. Hydrangea and Odessa liked each other very much, which delighted Entrapta and Scorpia; however, Tristan’s addition caught them by surprise. Mermista wasn’t the warmest woman when it came to who associated with her son. Hordak knows that his actions from the past were to blame, but she hasn’t done anything to damage his child’s relationship with her companion, so he says nothing.

Hydrangea’s mother, Perfuma, is no different, though she tends to have a lenient grip. Which he knows is due to her bohemian attitude, rather than an acceptance of Odessa. She wouldn’t stifle her child, as she has asserted that children should be allowed to do as they please and grow up how they will. It’s not a sentiment he disagrees with—he gave Odessa all the freedom she wanted. Entrapta was the one to spoil her, and he took on the disciplinarian role, for when it needed to be done, but overall, he and his wife encouraged Odessa’s desire to do what she wanted. Sometimes, her strong personality could be overpowering for others, but she’s not a bad person.

Despite what others may think.

“How are you doing, hon?” Entrapta asks, getting up to his level.

“I’m doing fine,” he responds. “Did you need something from me?”

“No,” Entrapta smiles. “You always ask that.”

“Ask what?”

“If people need something from you.”

He pauses in his tracks, “Do I?”

“You usually ask that when I’m looking at you, or wondering how you are,” Entrapta states. “And when I say people, I mean just me. You don’t do it with others.”

Hordak looks at the ground, silent.

“That’s not a problem, Hordak! It’s an observation,” Entrapta assures him.

He doesn’t question it further, for now.

“Oh, hi, guys!” Entrapta says.

Hordak faces behind him, finding Glimmer and Bow waving at him. For a flash of a second, he’s stricken with concern, but remembers that they’re supposed to be here today. That must be why they were in his dream, and it has nothing to do with premonitions of impending doom.

“Hey! Hope we’re not late,” Bow says.

“You’re right on time!” Entrapta replies.

Glimmer smiles, “Good! I hope you don’t mind—we brought Aurora today.”

Hordak looks past them, their daughter standing near the portal. Utterly disinterested. Without thinking, he says to Glimmer, “Was it wise to bring her?”

She looks at him, surprised, before waving her hand and laughing, “Oh, Hordak, she’s fine! She’s a big girl. Aurora, come here please!”

Aurora’s expression belies her unwillingness to be present, a polite smile on her face.

He doesn’t want to be rude— Well, that’s not true, he wants to be rude. It just isn’t prudent. Aurora isn’t a person who tends to be engrossed in what’s going outside of her social circle.

Glimmer looks up at Hordak, “I brought her because as future queen, she needs to participate in what’s happening throughout Etheria. You and I are working on this together, so I figured she would benefit from learning how things work with other kingdoms outside of a council meeting!”

Hordak nods in understanding. Makes sense.

Entrapta looks at Aurora, “Hello!”

“Thank you for welcoming me,” Aurora curtsies.

“What’s first on the agenda?” Bow asks.

Entrapta laughs, “We’ll go up into the trees first! We’ve designed a mode of transportation that takes us all to the top!”

Hordak silently walks behind the group. Entrapta leads them to a lift that operates when people enter into the rectangular container, made of nearby materials, predominantly the wood and bark of trees, as they’re the sturdiest thing at the moment. It’s in its rudimentary stage, Entrapta explains, and hopefully it will be changed into solid metal soon, since they didn’t want to waste resources at once. They had to see if it worked first, and they needed to design a glass case to hold it. All of them are elevated toward the top, allowing them a view of everything below.

Glimmer looks over the side of the box, “Wow, where did you come up with the idea?”

“Remember Horde Prime’s ship? He had this sort of thing aboard. We figured it would help get people around easier,” Entrapta says.

“So, you took the contraption of someone deplorable and used it for yourself?” Aurora asks.

“Yep!” Entrapta says.

Glimmer stares at her child, and Bow’s brows rise an inch.

Hordak’s arms remain folded, glaring at the back of Aurora’s head. Not liking her tone.

She doesn’t approve of it. And while he may not like owing Prime anything, it isn’t conducive to advancement as a group to ignore advantages simply because it came from a heinous individual. Good people have bad ideas, and bad people have good ideas, it depends on how it’s used.

“I don’t see how this is sensible of your time,” Aurora says.

Entrapta laughs, “Not everyone can teleport like you and your mom! We have people who can’t jump and climb the way we can.”

Aurora gives a delicate sniff, unimpressed with the explanation.

Glimmer claps her hands together, “Well, I think it’s a phenomenal idea. Prime was a monster, but his ship was incredible.”

“Mama—” Aurora begins.

Bow points at the distant grove, “Oh, look, pookas! Aurora, these were the animals that I met with Adora while looking for Entrapta.”

“The very things that would’ve eaten you all, and my grandpa, alive. You don’t say,” Aurora dryly answers.

“They’re friendly now!” Entrapta corrects, hair morphing into a hand with a forefinger pointed up.

Aurora grimaces when a pooka chitters at her, stepping away.

Hordak comes forward, unable to deal with it any longer, “Perhaps, it would be better for Aurora if she went and explored on her own. There is a plethora of activity in the market, and the main thing we would all be discussing is infrastructure.”

Bow turns to him, “Oh, I don’t think it’s necessary for her to leave.”

Glimmer nods, his suggestion more than welcome, “Actually, he might be right. Sweetie, why don’t you go down and check things out?”

“Thank you, I will,” Aurora says, giving another polite smile. With that, she teleports to the ground.

Entrapta yells over the side, “Byyyeeee!”

Bow and Glimmer share a long glance at one another. Aurora is a pleasant young woman, and now at eighteen, she should be engaging with more outside of Bright Moon. Neither Glimmer or Bow could imagine not wanting to go out of their comfort zone, whether it’s irritating or boring. But Aurora had never been quite as easy with ventures toward the unfamiliar.

Aurora is a creature of habit and routine, so she tends to stick with people that she knows, which is why they gave Marlena and Clawdeen the day off, both to allow Aurora to expand her horizons on her own, while giving their goddaughters well-deserved rest. Adora and Catra serve, too, as Aurora’s respective godparents, for they had all promised to be the guardians of each other’s children. And it’s why they decided, when Aurora asked if she could visit her extended family on the outskirts of the Whispering Woods, they pushed her to join them on this trip to Beast Island.

Aurora’s behavior since arrival was troubling Glimmer; she’s sure it wasn’t obvious, but her daughter radiated displeasure. Aurora is normally so genteel, with impeccable manners, which were inherited from Angella, and nurtured more by Bow and his relatives. Glimmer, even as she gets older, could never get rid of her fire to engage with every little aspect of life as much as she could. There was so much to do and see and experience, and she likes to believe that Aurora’s the same, even with her personality being softer than her own: mellow, caring, even shy. She knows her daughter is a good person.

Everyone always says so.

Bow and Entrapta have gone ahead, chatting animatedly about inventions and the latest in revolutionary designs. Addressing Hordak, Glimmer murmurs, “I’m sorry about Aurora.”

Hordak looks at her, “I don’t see the need for an apology. She doesn’t have to hide her disdain.”

Glimmer pokes him lightly in the arm, teasing, “Why? Because you’re the same?”

“Exactly,” Hordak replies, giving a light chuckle.

Sighing, she holds up her face with her hand, “Still, I don’t know why she’s upset today. I know kids don’t like to be with their parents after a certain age, and want to be with their friends—I was definitely that way—but I thought maybe she would have fun, you know? Engaging with the people, the mix of culture. Beast Island is so grand now!”

“I’m glad to hear you approve of what we’ve accomplished thus far,” Hordak says.

“That lift contraption is useful, but nothing will ever overshadow the day we got indoor plumbing in the palace.”

Hordak smiles, letting himself relax in the easy conversation.

Aurora walks through the throng of individuals bustling around. She didn’t expect so… many clones. She knows this is one preferred habitation, along with the kingdom of Dryl, and they are sporadic in other parts of Etheria. But to have so many of them present is a sight to behold.

She doesn’t approach any of the shops, but watches closely. Etherians, too, are wandering from stall to stall, store to store, and she ponders why any of these citizens would want to leave their kingdoms. Do their leaders not provide enough for them that they feel the need to come to a place still in development? She has heard of Beast Island’s many, many changes from childhood to adulthood, but she doesn’t see the appeal of coming to a location that isn’t as established as the rest of Etheria. New Chelicerata is an exception, since restoring a ruined kingdom isn’t a simple task, and that was in no part thanks to the Horde destroying the land and water.

To add on top of that, Aurora notes the strange carts being driven around the area. Compact metal transportation vehicles that are hovering above the ground, or whizzing through the canopy. An invention from Entrapta, no doubt. She tends to be the mind behind the majority of the designs. Those cannot possibly be safe.

Aurora treads lightly along the ground, a little dash of levitation magic that she’s been practicing. A gaggle of children, both Etherian and mixed, run past her, and she sidesteps out of the way. None of them are paying attention to where they’re running, almost doing the same to a couple of people. She quietly shames their parents for not teaching them respect better.

“Hey! You all have to slow down!”

She recognizes the voice, stopping in her tracks.

“Aww, but we wanna run!” chime youthful voices of reckless abandon.

Her eyes shift back and forth from either side, not risking looking behind herself, wondering if she can slip into a nearby building.

“You want to run? Go that way into the woods and return after a while. Whoever’s fastest wins and gets bragging rights.”

“What if one of us gets lost?”

For a moment, she wonders if she could master the invisibility spell this very second—

“Your parents didn’t tell you, but that’s the price of being fools running around without a care: you didn’t get to learn map reading. It’s a curse, so it’s inevitable you’ll die in the jungle.”

The children laugh, “What? No way!”

As the conversation turns to protest, Aurora darts behind a wall, letting out a breath. Crisis averted.

“You know, I heard that if you run like mad back to your homes, and don’t get lost, the curse is lifted! But you can only try when the moon’s half full.”

A gasp comes from one of the children, “Oh my gosh! It’s half full tonight!”

“I guess you kids better practice for this evening!”

Aurora peers around the corner, listening to the children fall for the outlandish lies, while unable to see anyone.

She’s startled when the next sound is that of quick steps coming her direction, darting past her—

Instinctively, she teleports, narrowly avoiding collision with a child. She closes her eyes and sighs.

Why can’t she go home?

“Aurora? What are you doing here?”

She tenses.

She didn’t plan where she’d wind up.

Slowly, Aurora tilts back her head, giving her signature smile, “Eon. I didn’t expect to see you.”

Peering down, Eon quirks a single brow, “You didn’t expect to see me where my family is? Do you not know how visitation works?”

Aurora withdraws, realizing with embarrassment how her head had been resting on his chest. He stands there, nonchalant, several stacks of flour levitating above his palm. He wears Mystacoran attire, deep, noble colors of purple with the usual white or gold accents replaced with his signature black.

Standing out as much as her, if she’ll admit anything. She attends any event wearing dresses, colored soft pink with whites trimming her sleeves and the hem of her skirt. She smoothes out her outfit, looking at the fabric, “I know how visitation works. Normally, you’re locked up in your room.” She side-eyes him. “Doing nothing to better yourself.”

Eon gives a cocky grin, “At least I don’t fake being busy to drown out the monotony enveloping my life.”

Decorum be damned, Aurora’s expression turns mocking, “I happen to like monotony. Schedules keep things together.”

“Another way of declaring you’re uptight,” Eon retorts, sauntering past her.

Aurora emits a light scoff, teleporting beside him, “I am not uptight! I appear that way to the lethargic. It wouldn’t hurt you to make an effort.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Eon replies, spinning on the ball of his foot and giving a small bow with his head. “I forgot that commoners like myself need your example to show us how we could improve ourselves.”

Aurora tosses back her hair, “That’s part of being a princess—leading by example.”

Eon rolls his eyes, continuing his path, “Of course. I wouldn’t want to contradict you.”

“But I would contradict you,” Aurora replies. “I don’t understand why you’re carrying the sacks like that.”

“Like what?”

“Magic isn’t something to do menial tasks with. Did your muscles atrophy from being bedridden?”

“I happen to enjoy using my magic for all my needs,” Eon says. “If it makes things easier, why not do it?”

Aurora shakes her head.

“So, what are you on the island for? Did your family finally admit you were found among the beetles, and that’s why you have those wings?”

“Are you insinuating I’m a pest?” she questions, annoyed, folding her arms.

“Beetles happen to serve a very good purpose,” Eon tells her. “I wouldn’t imply such malicious concepts about you.”

Aurora gives him a pointed glare, “If you must know, I happen to be tagging along with my parents. They wanted to check on how construction is going for your people.”

“Ah. That’s nice,” he says, sincere.

“For you, maybe.”

Eon resumes being distant, “Well, I thank you for showing you care. Your presence graces us.”

“I suppose this will do as I’m waiting for them to be done,” she replies, looking around with annoyance.

Eon stops in front of his destination, setting the cargo carefully on the ground. He waves at an uncle, who nods his thanks before continuing to help a customer.

“Why don’t you take it inside?” Aurora asks.

“They know where it is.”

“It’s nicer to put it inside,” Aurora insists.

Eon grunts in annoyance. Levitating them back up, he goes around the corner. He halts, turning to her, hiking a thumb in his new direction, “Are you coming?”

Blinking, Aurora glances behind him. “This job doesn’t require two people.”

Eon leaves the sacks floating, pivoting around, “If you’re going to make demands of me, the least you can do is watch me do it.”

“But—”

He gestures to the building, “Would you rather loiter outside this public establishment?”

Aurora concedes, following him to the back door. She supposes it’s better than being out in the open.

Hordak lets his mind wander as his companions take rein of the conversation.

The nightmare threw him off more than he’d care to admit. He has had this sort of dream before, however, he was shaken to his core with this one. It was the most vivid he had ever experienced, and an aspect of slumber he’d care to not go through again.

Bow and Glimmer head to a group of his brothers who are in the midst of adding beams together.

He took it upon himself to take a break in a home that was under development. It needs a little more work left, but it’s otherwise complete and ready for furnishing. No one will bother him here.

Entrapta looks into the house, noticing his posture. He’s staring out a window that overlooks the trees, the drop going straight down, hands behind his back. His thinking position. She swings over to where he stands, closing the door behind her, “Are you still holding up?”

Hordak’s brow twitches. He doesn’t tell her that it’s a poor choice of words, because he knows he’s a little more sensitive to this matter than usual.

But Entrapta touches his shoulder, “Oh, I’m sorry! I meant to ask if you’re fine.”

“That is not something you need to concern yourself with. They’re mere words.”

“Words that are insensitive,” Entrapta replies. He doesn’t give a reply. She sits on her hair, gazing right at him. Unmoving.

Hordak’s eyes flick over to her for a second. He continues to stare straight ahead. “Entrapta, you needn’t apologize or feel responsible.”

“I believe you when you say that,” Entrapta says, not removing her eyes from his features. Suddenly, she gives a bashful smile, “I just care about you.”

Heart twinging, Hordak stiffens. He knows that her concern is sincere, and he appreciates it. He raises a hand to her cheek, brushing it, “I know.”

Entrapta flushes, his gaze intense. She can’t help but look down then, soft giggles leaving her lips. His finger traces the shell of her ear, and a shudder snakes along her spine. Body growing warm from the attention. He always knew how to make her feel special. After Prime’s defeat, Hordak had layers of emotion to sift through. He had been angry for many years, and she knows there’s parts of that residual rage underneath the calm. But one aspect of his nature that blossomed was a sensitivity that left her speechless. Hordak doesn’t believe it, but he can be very romantic by simply being honest with her.

“Hordak,” Entrapta whispers, touching his hand.

He tilts his head, “Yes?”

“You know I love you,” she says.

“Yes, I do,” Hordak replies, surprised. “And I love you too.”

Entrapta gives a breathy laugh, turning her face into his palm, hiding. She peers up at him with one eye, “Really?”

“More than you could comprehend,” Hordak tells the truth.

“Aww!” she coos, pressing his hand into her cheek, slightly muffled as she buries her face into his palm again.

A light blush tints his face, and he gives a soft laugh, “Entrapta, what’s this about? Are you upset that you cannot help me with my problem?”

“A little,” Entrapta holds his hand in hers, kissing the inside of his wrist. “I don’t know what to do sometimes, and I don’t know if me being around helps at all.”

“You’re a great help,” he assures her, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Don’t doubt your affect on me.”

Entrapta grins, “I know some of the ways I affect you, silly!”

Hordak steps closer, smile widening along his lips, teeth flashing. His voice lowers, “Do you?”

“I like to think so,” Entrapta teases, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, fingers moving into his hair.

Her lips touch his, and he pulls her close. Her body curves against his, and even after decades of being near her, he’s always amazed at how she feels. Hand angled behind her head, his other one shifts down her back, sliding down her thigh.

Entrapta moans into his mouth, and she realizes that she’s been wanting to do this all day. His breathing grows ragged, moans interspersed with her name, sounds that she never gets tired of, because he only makes them with her.

Hordak pushes her against the wall, and he feels her hair slacken through her frame. Her legs wrap around his waist, allowing herself to be held up by his hands. Entrapta gives a soft groan, pulling him close. Her mouth caresses his neck, causing his body to shiver. Her hands glide down his back, grazing over exposed skin.

His hand snakes up her frame, and angles between her legs. Against the fabric, he begins to rub her clit, and Entrapta gasps in welcome surprise. Grinding against his fingers, she gives a small bite to his ear lobe, hot breath tickling his skin.

Hordak presses harder with his fingers, and he knows she’s growing damp. He captures her mouth with his, swallowing a moan she emits, flushed and excited. She grins against his chin, giving a small chuckle.

Encouraged, Hordak stops petting her. He looks at her, “Entrapta, remove your clothes.”

“Ooooh!” Entrapta does as he says, discarding everything but her shirt.

With ease, he lifts her back up, pushing her securely upon the wall and placing her legs over his shoulders. He has no hesitation as he leans in, breathing in, and glides his tongue up slick folds, rubbing over the clit with the end of his tongue.

Entrapta gasps, closing her eyes in pleasure. His tongue moves slowly, taking his time. It moves through the sides, around, teasing the clit, but never going in. Entrapta’s hands caress his hair, brushing through dark blue locks. His moans vibrate into her skin, mouth burning hot on burning flesh.

Hordak’s tongue suddenly darts in, and Entrapta’s back arches, mouth parting open. Groaning deep in her throat, Entrapta’s fingers grip his hair harder. Hordak pushes her legs further aside, nails digging into tender skin. He pulls away, giving her a brief glance, as his teeth graze along the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

“Hordak…” Entrapta whispers.

“Hmm?” he hums, mouth covering her clit, sucking hard.

Her moan escapes in a staccato, trembling. Biting her lower lip, Entrapta forgets what she’s supposed to ask. Lost in the sensation of his mouth on her clit, tongue dragging along swollen lips. His fingers squeeze the sensitive flesh of her backside, his ears twitching when she says his name. Soon, she’s soaked, unable to think or speak, overcome by physical touch. His arms, once the most obvious area of his defect, don’t waver from the weight, keeping her steady without qualm.

She would love him no matter his appearance, but she’s happy that he has the body he lost before. It brought him so much pain and agony, leaving him enraged and bitter. Entrapta would watch him suffer every day in the Fright Zone, even with her modifications. He felt inadequate, pathetic and alone. She would never think of him this way—he was the most brilliant mind and kindest heart she’d ever met, valuing her for who she was. Loving her despite her own imperfections. She never gave a thought to her physical appearance. What she always worried about was how her mind, her personality, her feelings would be perceived.

He accepted all of it.

And she wants to help him overcome whatever fears remain in him. That the imperfections of his body wouldn’t ever be the only thing of him she’d accept—it would be the doubts, the worries, the anger. He was her friend and husband. He, and he alone, would always be enough.

The heat in her stomach spreads throughout her body. Growing feverish, sweat shining on her skin, her toes curl into his back. Hordak’s ministrations are relentless, breaths muffled as his tongue moves back in, deeper than before, making circular motions within her body.

Shaking with incredible force, it bowls Entrapta forward, clamping her hand over her mouth. Eyes shut closed, brows knitting together, she trembles from the orgasm rocking through her every nerve and muscle. Slowly, her eyelids open, finding him staring up at her.

“Wow…”

Hordak smiles, pleased at such a reaction.

As he wipes up his chin, Entrapta brushes aside his hair, tugging strands over his temple. “Oh... I remembered what I was going to ask…”

“Yes?”

“I was going… to ask… if you think anyone will notice us gone…”

“Perhaps. But I don’t believe there’s a problem, so long as we begin going back now.”

Entrapta gives a gentle pat to his shoulders, and he sets her down. Beginning to dress, she grins, “I think this house is ruined.”

“Nonsense,” Hordak returns, waving a hand. “We need only open a window.”

Cackling wildly, Entrapta leaps up into his arms, nuzzling his neck, “You’re so bad!”

Hordak kisses her cheek, “I try.”

“I can be bad too,” Entrapta says, leering down at his groin.

“I don’t think we have the time,” Hordak replies, arm wrapping around her waist. “As favorable as that outcome would be.”

“Awww… You don’t want to make an attempt?”

“I believe, unfortunately, we have been gone long enough to arouse suspicion.”

“That’s an understatement,” Entrapta replies, wiggling her eyebrows, hand stroking over his clothes. “We definitely can’t hide that.”

A boyish grin and light blush changes his normally stoic demeanor. The expression staggers her mind to a halt, mystifying her on the rare moments it occurs. He’s so pretty...

“Entrapta?” he asks, smile still in place.

Finally recalling what needs to be done, Entrapta moves toward the door, grinning, “I’ll go on ahead, okay? You take your time!”

He nods, and she blows him a kiss that he, on reflex, pretends to catch.

Squealing at his playful attitude, Entrapta bounces out the door.

Hordak hears her voice grow distant, and he notes the faint replies from their friends. Hordak looks back out the window, catching his reflection in the glass. He looks down at his arm, touching it where he can remember missing bone and sinew. He takes in a breath, feeling the air move through his nose, into his chest. The power in his body undeniable.

It’s an odd feeling. Being afraid of nothing.

Aurora follows Eon throughout the market. He, apparently, was needed today. His magic lent significant help to his people, restoring broken objects, fixing machinery, and taking deliveries to several places. She won’t admit it, but it was a welcome relief from simply milling about by herself. Granted, these are tasks servants would be doing, but it made her feel normal, like she was accomplishing objectives at Bright Moon.

Eon looks down at her, “Don’t you have other places to be?”

“If I did, I would’ve left,” Aurora replies.

“Are you bored?”

“No, not at all,” she shakes her head. A little surprised she means it, too.

Eon takes her word for it. He hadn’t expected her to trail after him the entire time, and he would catch her standing by, occasionally offering unwanted critique, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. Early on, he certainly did. But the day has been long and he’s hoping to rest soon. She always does what she wants.

“Are you almost done?” Aurora asks.

“Yes,” he replies. “This is my last spot.”

Aurora looks at the sparse appearance, not even a sign put outside. Eon opens the door, singing its soft chime, and Aurora steps in after him. She’s struck to find rows of jewelry arranged along the four walls, painted navy blue, with cases planted into the middle of the floor. Though empty, they are meant for future displays.

Eon heads over to the case closest to the back door, tapping a bell resting on top.

Aurora joins him, “Is anyone present?”

“Should be,” Eon replies, turning around to face the front. He puts his hands in his pockets. “It’s not an issue if no one is—I can come back later.”

Aurora peers at the glass case, looking at dazzling necklaces, bracelets and rings aligned on vermilion velvet stands. She didn’t expect a store of this magnitude on Beast Island. The quality of the items are beautiful, with delicate designs.

Eon watches her from the corner of his eye. Her expression is intrigued, perusing the case with calm interest. He closes his eyes, waiting for the merchant to arrive. He listens to the faint tread of Aurora’s feet on the ground, the soft tap of her fingers on the surface of glass. He lets his mind wander in peace, glad to have a moment to himself.

Aurora eventually returns to his side, “Are you sure they’re here?”

“Yes,” he answers, not opening his eyes. “If you prefer, you can go find your parents.”

Aurora turns around, skirt slightly shifting about her feet. She stares up at Eon, debating whether to take him up on the suggestion or not. Her parents might be done, but if they’re not, she wouldn’t be able to leave again as smoothly as before. Staring at each side of the room, she says, “This is rude.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This wouldn’t happen in Bright Moon.”

Eon gives an exasperated sigh, “No, of course not. Nothing bad ever happens in Bright Moon.”

She ignores it or doesn’t hear. Aurora boasts, crossing her arms, “Right! Glad you see it my way.”

“Your Highness,” Eon scoffs, turning to face her. “If everyone could see things your way, we’d have a greater need for service animals.”

She blinks, “Why is that?”

“Everyone would be blind,” Eon answers.

Aurora says, tone clipped, “Oh, what would you know?”

“A lot more than you,” Eon replies, feeling vigor return.

“I doubt you possibly could!” Aurora’s head tilts at an arrogant angle. “The only thing you’ve proven today is that you make an excellent mule.”

Feigning injury, Eon clutches his chest, “Ah! You hurt me. But I could’ve sworn that you were fine with loyal, hard-working creatures. Unless that only matters when it’s useful to you.”

Aurora crosses her arms, huffing quietly.

Eon has known Aurora his entire life. Aurora has proven time and again that she has an elitism that tends to push her away from most people. Her parents are open-minded, cheerful individuals, and together they tend to liven any situation. Aurora can be charming, but she lacks sincerity. While not brash, her keeping an absurd distance from the folks around them during his errands proved that she was around him because he was the one thing she knew, rather than any intention toward actual civility.

Aurora inspects her shoulder, finding a loose thread. She points at it, and it dissolves in the air.

“I thought magic wasn’t a toy,” he says, taunting.

“This isn’t the same,” she snaps.

Before Eon can retort, the door opens behind them. The two turn around and find a woman standing there. Full-figured, with brown hair, hazel eyes and pale skin, the merchant is dressed in Bright Moon garb. Silver arm bands go up to mid-forearm, and she removes a light blue cape to hang on a coat rack.

“Eon, hello! I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. My meeting ran late.”

“No worries. I thought as much,” Eon replies.

The woman stares at Aurora for a moment, stunned, then smiles, “Your Highness! Welcome to my shop.”

Returning the warm greeting, Aurora nods at her, “Hello, I’m pleased to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Minette, Your Highness. If I may ask, what are you doing on Beast Island?”

“Royal duties,” Aurora gives a dainty laugh. “It’s been lovely!”

“I’m glad to hear that!” Minette says, walking over to a desk.

Eon bends down, giving Aurora a deadpan stare.

Aurora shoos him back, returning it with a glare.

“So!” Minette begins, causing the two to stand upright before she can notice. “Eon, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“What is it?”

With an excited skip in her step, Minette returns to the chair behind the larger collection of jewelry, “I needed a model for some of my jewelry, and using you would be really helpful!”

“Really? That’s it?” he asks, a bit surprised. “I don’t need to patch a hole in your roof or magic up boxes?”

“Sorry! I understand if you’d prefer to do those things instead,” Minette jokes.

Eon takes his seat, a little relieved that this is the easiest job he’s had today. Aurora sits in a chair nearby, crossing her right ankle under her left, hands in her lap.

“Your Highness, you can scoot closer,” suggests Minette.

Eon gives Aurora a brief glance.

“No, thank you, I’m comfortable where I am,” Aurora says.

“Nonsense! You can try anything on too!”

Aurora is about to decline when Eon rises to his feet and stands behind his seat. He indicates to it with a quick motion of his head, and Aurora elects to accept it. He pushes the chair under her, before levitating the one she’d been in next to it.

Minette smiles, bringing out her first batch, “How is Nyxia?”

“She’s doing well,” he informs her. “She’s likely in a meeting herself.”

“Your mother isn’t usually doing business with other people, correct?”

Eon peruses the jewelry that she places out on the table. Picking up a silver-banded ring, a crimson gem laid in its intricate center, he says, “I suppose she isn’t. But she will occasionally meet up with someone. I think she had to discuss matters with the council on Mystacore.”

“No doubt causing a stir of some sort,” Aurora adds, slipping a white bracelet onto a delicate wrist.

Eon glances at her, “You would know how to do that, wouldn’t you?”

Aurora gives a demure grin, “Whatever do you mean?”

“Playing coy only works on the dim, Aurora," he tells her with a smirk. "But I don’t blame you for being outside of familiar company that you think it’d work on me.”

“Ha ha.”

Minette watches with curious fascination, beaming at them, “You two must be good friends.”

Aurora and Eon turn to her at the statement.

“Am I wrong?” Minette asks, unsure now.

Aurora gives an awkward smile, a little odd on her lips, “Oh, it’s not that! We’ve known one another for years.”

“For how long, if I may ask?”

“A long, long time,” Eon replies, trying on a bracelet as well, shining black. “My mother knows her aunt.”

“Ohh, I see! I wasn’t aware that you knew the royal family, Eon.”

“Not many do,” he answers.

“How do you know Eon?” Aurora returns the question to the other woman.

“He lived near me at Bright Moon,” Minette explains. “I was a resident of the complexes there.”

“Really?” Aurora asks, shocked. “Why did you move here?”

“I always liked to engage in the unusual,” Minette tells her. A happy smile grows on her face, “It was delightful having Eon move in next door. I had become acquainted with his family when they would visit, and they informed me that my designs might strike a chord with a different crowd too, so I decided to set up shop outside of Bright Moon. I’m going to live here permanently, but I’ll be keeping my place over there to be in touch with my family.”

“Oh, I see…”

Minette notes the slight change in Aurora’s disposition. She sets down a narrow container on the table, “Do not misunderstand, Your Highness! Eon and I had been neighbors for a good few years, and he talked to me about the changes occurring on Beast Island. It seemed like a good opportunity to try my business out here too and build a second location. I grew up in Bright Moon, of course, but a change of pace now and again doesn’t hurt, right? I love my home, but knowing that Beast Island had potential was exciting!”

Eon gives Aurora a brief glance, “Surely, you understand what she means.”

Aurora goes quiet, not wanting to look at him. The two enter a chit chat that doesn’t involve her, to which she finds relief. She doesn’t fully… understand Minette’s motivations. He, unfortunately, is correct. An overachiever herself, Aurora can comprehend pushing toward her goals. But her ties to her home are so valuable, that she can’t help but feel a little slighted that a subject of hers decided that it was better to live here, in an underdeveloped metropolis. She can’t disconnect that success is tied to her kingdom and all its facets. It figures that Eon would be capable of convincing someone that, an idea they’d never considered before, might be what they want. He was always good at that.

It has been… ages since they’ve been in each other’s presence. They don’t interact often, but when they do it can be rather... tense. Tense is how she describes her relationship with Eon. His personality is both sardonic and frigid, which can lead to frustrating discussions. He has been more than pleasant thus far—even with his tendency to argue with her. She attempts to be cordial when she can, but she finds his quips to cut to the quick bothersome.

Then he does things like hold out chairs for her, or open doors and allow her to enter first, and she’s a little confused how someone can hold her with contempt and yet high enough esteem to do favors.

Maddening is also how it can be expressed being around Eon.

Aurora’s curiosity rises when Minette pulls out another box, dark and smooth, with a simple crescent moon latch on the front.

“These are my latest earrings!” Minette says, opening it. An array of different sets are revealed, but Aurora’s eyes hone in on a simple pair: pink tear-drop shaped earrings, not looking like anything special, but they have a soft sheen to their color that’s appealing.

“Your Highness, you seem taken with these,” Minette pulls them out. “Would you care to try them on?”

“Oh! Um, yes, thank you,” Aurora holds them in her hands, delicately pinning each one through her earlobes. Minette places a mirror in front of her, and Aurora discovers that she not only finds them pleasing, but she’s enchanted by it. They dangle as she moves her head, and she smiles. Genuine and delighted. “These are beautiful.”

“Thank you!” Minette turns to Eon. “And what about you?”

Eon stares at Aurora, and he pulls himself out of his reverie before Aurora can turn to face him. He looks down at the velvety interior, checking the selection. He does find his eyes trained on a similar pair, but in lovely lavender rather than the rosy pink she chose, their diameter wider a bit at the tip before becoming more rounded at the bottom by comparison as well. He picks it up, staring at it for a moment.

“Try them on, try them on!” encourages Minette.

Eon does as she says, and he checks the mirror too. He gives a light chuckle, the side of his mouth tilting up, “You do know how to win a man over.”

Minette claps her hands excitedly, “Good! Do you two like them enough to get them?”

Aurora nods, beaming, “Yes, absolutely!”

“Yes, I definitely want them,” Eon begins. He reaches for his pocket, “How much is this, Minette?”

“Eon, you silly boy,” the older woman giggles. “Consider them a gift from me to the both of you, hm?”

Aurora waves a hand, “Oh, that’s sweet of you, but you should be paid for your work!”

Eon nods in agreement, taken aback, “It doesn’t feel right to have them handed over. I can pay for Aurora’s set as well.”

Aurora, a little flattered despite herself, coos, “Aww, really?”

“Yes, really,” he answers.

Minette wags a finger, “Ah-ah-ah! I won’t hear of it. It really is my way of saying thanks to Eon for helping out today and times past; and Your Highness, I’d be honored if you wore them!”

Grinning, Eon shrugs, reclining in his seat, “Well, who am I to turn down a free present?”

“Thank you very much, Minette,” Aurora says. She looks at the mirror again, enjoying herself for the first time today.

Glimmer stands next to Entrapta, looking over a couple of blueprints that the engineer created with a team of clones. The day has passed with little event, and Glimmer was glad about that. She addresses Entrapta, “How is Odessa, by the way? Will she be home soon?”

Entrapta nods, widening her smile, “Yes! She will be home in a month.”

“Ooh, that’s exciting!” Glimmer says. “I bet you’ve missed her.”

“I knooooow!” Entrapta flips in place through the air. “I told her if she found anything interesting to bring it back!”

“Where did she go again?”

“She went to visit our family in Inicos. It’s a long journey, but the return trip is much shorter.”

Glimmer nods, then glances at Hordak. She leans in, whispering, “Do you think Hordak is excited?”

Entrapta picks up the cue, and whispers back, “Yes! Hordak doesn’t show it, but he misses our baby too.”

“That’s so cute!” Glimmer says.

“I know!”

From where he stands, Hordak’s ears twitch a little, looking over his shoulder at the women. They simply wave at him, and he resumes conversation with Bow.

Glimmer turns her attention toward the darkening sky. It’ll be about time to head back to the castle. She’s been enjoying herself since she’s arrived. Even with all the experience she has now, she cannot help but feel unsettled when she’s in the palace for too long, and it has been an overdue time in regards to going out. Beast Island may not be what individuals think of for relaxation and enjoyment, but without all the technology trying to kill you, it’s fun. Bow can attest to that.

The sound of the elevator is familiar by now that none of them turn to it. But a moment later, Glimmer hears, “Hi, Mama!”

She looks over Entrapta’s shoulder, and she rises to greet her daughter, “Aurora! Hi, honey. Did you have a good time?”

The princess gives a delicate shrug of her shoulders, “I suppose.”

“Are those earrings?” Glimmer asks, pointing to her ears. “You didn’t have them on before.”

Aurora touches one, “Oh, yes! Do you like them?”

“I adore them! They’re such a compliment to your face—” begins Glimmer, when her eyes slide over to the left. She lets out a loud gasp, “Eon!”

Eon continues his strides, giving a salute with his hand, “Hello.”

Glimmer, despite being dwarfed by the younger man, teleports over the remaining four feet and crushes him to her. “Oh my gosh, how’ve you been?”

“Not broken,” he remarks.

“Oh, I know you’re fine!” Glimmer laughs, releasing him. She holds his wrists in her hands, appraising him. “By the moon, you’ve gotten tall.”

Eon brushes his hair from his face, grinning down at her, “Thank you, it’s genetics.”

Entrapta bounces over, giving him an affectionate pat on the back, “And your strict diet!”

“That too,” he agrees. “I’d kill to have a slice of cake.”

“Were you with Aurora just now?” Bow asks, walking over to them with Hordak.

“She accompanied me all day,” Eon informs the couples. “She performed good samaritan duties.”

Glimmer can’t help her astonishment. She looks at Aurora, “Really?”

“He happened to be walking by, that’s all,” Aurora explains. “He worked, I watched.”

Bow holds his daughter by the shoulder, pulling her to him, giving her a happy shake, “You learned a thing or two though, didn’t you?”

“Sure, Papa.”

Eon leans down to Glimmer, “You know, she actually got dirt on her.”

“For once, huh?” Glimmer jests back.

Flushing, Aurora crosses her arms, “Mama, please…”

Hordak turns to Bow, “Will you three be returning to Bright Moon now?”

Bow nods, “Since Aurora is here, and it’s getting late, we likely should.”

Glimmer turns to the clone family, “Would any of you be interested in coming back and having dinner? The cooks don’t mind that!”

Entrapta shakes her head, “As much as I’d like to ask for tiny food from your chefs, Hordak and I have a previous engagement to attend to, so we’ll have to say no!”

Hordak nods at them, “Perhaps another time.”

“Got it!” Glimmer says, looking up at Eon. “What about you? You can have that slice of cake with us!”

“I got something to finish up here, but thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Eon, please, it’s Glimmer!”

“Sorry, Glimmer.”

Bow adds, “You should come by the next time you’re around!”

“Thank you,” Eon says, glancing at Aurora. “I’ll consider it some time.”

After a few more pleasantries, Eon bids farewell first. Hordak and Entrapta accompany the family to the portal about halfway before they veer off to their own place.

Glimmer stares up at her husband, “This was a great outing, wasn’t it?”

Bow stretches his arms toward the sky, “You bet! It’s good to get out of the stuffy meetings now and then.”

Aurora purses her lips, “I think we could’ve gone home sooner.”

Glimmer looks at her daughter, “Didn’t you have fun with Eon?”

“I had as much fun as one could while watching someone do menial labor,” Aurora replies.

“It’s good to get out regardless,” Bow says.

“I did always like that boy,” Glimmer tells them.

Aurora sighs, not understanding how he can win her parents over. He can be charming, to be sure, and he surprised her today by how useful he was to others. Even thoughtful. But he doesn’t have anything else going for him. She finds it to be a lucky thing that he enjoys being distant from her too.

Today was a fluke.

After all, he is a clone’s son.

Entrapta holds Hordak to her chest, brushing his hair as he falls asleep, “Did you have fun earlier today?”

“In the house or with our friends?”

“Both!”

Hordak smiles at her. His fingers slide up to touch her face, “I did enjoy myself.”

Entrapta leans forward, kissing the bridge of his nose. She puts their foreheads together, “Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?”

“You can return the favor to me later,” Hordak says. “I’m comfortable.”

Entrapta continues petting his scalp, finding that she is also in a cozy position, and maybe they will just have more fun tomorrow. She yawns, voice getting drowsy, “Are you happy Odessa is coming soon?”

“Yes, I am,” he replies. “There’s much to discuss with her.”

“There is…”

Hordak’s eyes drift to his wife’s collarbone. Breathing in the scent of her skin, Hordak pulls her closer. His thoughts begin to pick up in the quiet of the room. Churning. Once his mind finds something to think about, he can have as much a difficult time letting it be as Entrapta could. And their daughter was, for better or worse, the same.

He asks, with unusual hesitation, “Is Odessa keeping something from me? She has a strong wanderlust, and she enjoys visiting family but... she doesn’t feel like herself. When she left, it seemed as if she was unsure of how to approach me. That she didn’t want to inform me of any event she experienced. Am I imagining it?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Entrapta?”

The question receives light snores as a response.

Sighing, Hordak kisses the column of her throat before settling into her chest, unable to stop thinking of his dream from earlier. The sense of unease he has balled in his chest.

He is curious what this odyssey would entail for his daughter and her friends.

And he is worried what the outcome may be.

#hordak #entrapta #entrapdak #odessa #fanfic: The Ripple Effect #shera #spop

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uniqorrn · 3 years

Text

John Murphy Imagine

Location: The Dropship

Summary: After Clarke accused Murphy of killing Wells, he was beaten up by the other camp members and almost hung by his best friend, Bellamy Blake. After this, you find yourself preparing some different medicines and treatments for his wounds. Being the camps personal doctor you are one of the only ones that knows how to heal and treat wounds. However, you had never really spoken with Murphy, and he had never spoken to you but only a handful of times. But, you can't control the attraction the two of you grow for each other.

Pairing(s): Murphy x reader

Warnings: blood, angst, violence, language, mentions hanging, fluff, kinda smutty? not really.

Words: 1,734

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"Murphy! What did you do to Wells?" Your head shot up into the direction of the sudden shout, your eyes watching as Clarke stormed out of the tent she had been in previously. Bellamy and a few others following shortly after her. She looked furious but also hurt. You furrowed your brows as you watched her, growing progressively angrier the closer she got to Murphy. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your leg beginning to bounce up and down where you sat. You didn't really know Murphy that well, as the two of you never really spoken to each other. You knew nothing of his past or what kind of person he was truly like. You only saw what he wanted everyone to see, that tough-guy persona he put on every day here at the camp. However, you were smarter than that and knew that the windows to the soul were the eyes and everyone had a past you just didn't know his yet. "What the hell are you talking about?" He spat, eyes glaring into her as she reached behind her and around to her pocket. Pulling out a very familiar knife. "We found this with two of Wells' fingers where his body was." She held up a knife, a bend at the end of it, signaling that it was his knife. "What and you think I did it?" He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You were the one who threatened to kill him!" Gasps and hushed whispered were heard from the group that had formed around Clarke and Murphy. The quiet whispers were turning into shouts of protests, each person growing angrier with Murphy. "I'm saying that you killed Wells." "Yeah, he tried to killed Jasper too!" Octavia joined in, creating several more gasps and whispers throughout the crowd. You stayed where you were; your leg began bouncing up and down anxiously. A few more words were said and sudden shouting was heard throughout the camp. Suddenly, Murphy was dragged off somewhere, people shouting and throwing their fists up into the air as they vanished somewhere in the camp. You quickly followed behind them, your heart beat speeding up the closer you got to the shouting. When you got there, your eyes widened at the sight before you. You stood there frozen to the ground, as you watched Bellamy push the creature out from underneath Murphy's feet, the noose wrapping around his neck tightly as he struggled for air. You can imagine the shock on your face when you saw what was going on. You were on the sensitive side—you didn't like things that were very violent. You didn't like fighting, blood, killing, anything related to violence wasn't your thing. Most people picked on you for it, or made comments about how you won't survive here on earth if you don't learn to fight and defend yourself. Going into the medical field was a surprise, since you didn't like to look at blood. However, your heart was stronger than your dislikes and fears. You wanted to help people feel better. You wanted to help save people's lives. That's why Abby picked you to go down to the ground. So someone could watch over the 100 that were sent to a planet they weren't even sure was livable. "Stop! I killed Wells! It wasn't him.." A small girl shouted, making her way into the small circle, bringing you out of your dazed state. You watched Clarke cut the ropes, and Murphy falling to the ground before you tired and walked away. Suddenly, feeling sick from the situation that just happened, you entered your tent, sitting yourself down on the edge of your makeshift cot. You tried to bring your breathing back to normal, placing your hands in your head to rub at your forehead in an attempt to get rid of the headache that had formed. You stayed like that for awhile, sitting on your cat as you just stared at your shoes. It was quiet and there was no one to bother you. However, that was short-lived when Clarke entered your tent. "Y/n, can we talk?" You looked up at her with tired eyes and gave her a short but stern nod. You stood up, pulling your loose jacket over your shoulder as you shifted your weight onto your right side. "To make this short, I need you to come treat Murphy's injuries before they get infected. I would do it myself, but I wouldn't know where to start." You stared at her for a good minute, wondering why someone like her---that wanted to create peace would cause such a situation to occur--. It irritated you, to say the least. "That's why I'm here isn't it?" You cocked a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just give me a few minutes to grab my things." You added turning on your heels to look through your supplies. "I'll send him in." You ignored her as you grabbed little containers of different powders and herbs, rags and bowls of water, along with any other supply you might need for treating his injuries. "I don't need someone to look at my wounds!" You rolled your eyes at his words, placing down the last container of herbs on your small makeshift table. He entered your tent, throwing back the tent flaps rather roughly. You gestured to your makeshift cot, grabbing your bowl of water and rags first. "You can sit there." Your voice was quiet and soft as you spoke like honey. He sat down with no complaints, placing his hands on his knees. You walked in front of him and grabbed his chin to tilt his head up. Your kind eyes examined the wounds on his face, studying each cut, bruise, and gash on his face. You then moved to his neck, your eyes filling with sadness at the bruised lines that formed on his neck. Your fingers reached out to them slowly touching the skin lightly with your finger tips. Murphy flinched back, sucking in a breath at the contact. You pulled your hand back, mumbling a small sorry as you reached for your wet rag. You gently wiped the blood off his face, careful not to press too hard on the bruises already forming. "Why are you helping me?" He asked as you wiped the blood off of his nose. "it's my job to help heal the injured." You rinsed the bloody rag out in the bowl of water next to you before turning back to wipe the blood from his lips. Your left hand cupped his face gently, letting your thumb rub over his slightly chapped lips as you cleaned the small cut on his bottom lip. "But, no one else would." He whispered, referring to what happened merely an hour earlier. His eyes looked down to the ground, staring at his boots as you placed the rag in the bowl. You stood up, staring at him for a moment before trading the bloody water bowl for a small container of herbs. You stood back in front of him, tilting his head back up so you could look at him. "Because, unlike most I actually care about some people.." You whispered back, rubbing a smooth paste against the cuts on his face before covering it with a bandage. After his face was patched up, you moved to his neck, you looked up to him for approval before reaching out this time. He slowly nodded, granting you permission to touch the sensitive skin there. You rubbed a different paste on his neck, gently moving your fingers along the surface so you wouldn't hurt him. "This will help the bruising heal faster." You said when you pulled back, offering him a small smile. You met his gaze, swallowing thickly as a blush rose up your neck and to your cheeks. You looked away, placing your empty medicine tray on the table next to you. Murphy continued to gaze at you as you cleaned up, wondering why you were showing such kindness, even though you didn't really know each other. He saw a kindness in your eyes that no one's ever given him before. It did something to him.. It made him feel tingly. It was crazy how a simple gaze could make him feel so different. You grabbed one last bandage to cover the small cut he had on his neck. You gently applied it, your breath fanning across his skin softly, which caused a small shiver to crawl up Murphy's spine. When you pulled back, you didn't realize how close your faces were, your foreheads were almost touching and you could feel his breath fanning against your lips. His eyes flickered down to your lips, then to your eyes. Your breathing became heavy as he pushed his lips onto yours in a soft, innocent kiss. Your lips molded together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. Your hands wrapped around his neck, playing with the hairs at the base of it. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance to your mouth, which you gladly granted. His tongue explored your mouth, wrestling with yours in a battle of dominance. When you pulled away for air, you were both gasping. You leaned your forehead against his as he placed soft pecks against your slightly swollen and bruised lips. You didn't say anything to each other and just enjoyed the silence that fell around you. You moved to sit on his lap, pushing him back onto your cot as you hovered over him, placing another sweet kiss to his lips.

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Ticket Crimes - Oneshot

Rating: T Words: 9,752 Characters: All Category: Gen Summary: To welcome his new crew members about the USS Foley, Starfleet Captain Janus Gaines schedules shore leave on the pleasure planet of Ya'Lotus. Janus and Virgil run into an old acquaintance who seems to have ulterior motives; Roman and Remus attempt to infiltrate a drug trafficking ring; Patton and Logan narrowly avoid death on a history tour. Content Warnings: Mild violence/violent intent, alcohol use/mild intoxication, guns and phasers (no shots fired), mentions of drugs and drug trafficking (no drug use depicted) Note: You do not need to be familiar with Star trek to read this. In fact, it's probably better that you're not, because I took a LOT of liberties with canon

Doctor Patton Kelsey's boot heels clicked along the metal floor of the USS Foley as he made his way out of Sickbay. Despite the corridors' unusual emptiness, he kept to the right side out of habit, dragging his fingers along the wall as he went. He counted the doors, mouthing the numbers to help him keep track, until he came across the door he was looking for.

There was nothing usual about Ensign Virgil Salem's door except for the fact that it rarely ever opened. Virgil emerged for his shifts and for scheduled meals and made himself scarce the rest of the time.

Patton had studied Virgil's chart extensively but found no psychological defect that would render him unfit to serve in Starfleet. Surmising that Virgil was shy, Patton privately declared himself responsible for looking after the young recruit. The fact that they had joined the crew at the same time only served to strengthen this notion.

Patton raised his fist and knocked gently on the door, knowing full well that Virgil was inside. "Ensign Salem?" No response. "Virgil? Kiddo? Our group is about ready to beam down."

"Do I really have to go to that?" Virgil asked, his voice muffled behind the door.

"You don't want to?" Patton asked. "It's a party for us!"

"I would have been fine with a bottle of Saurian brandy, but nobody bothered to ask for my opinion, did they?"

Patton smiled a little and leaned against the doorframe. "Look, kiddo, you'd better just come with me before Captain Gaines calls you over the intercom."

"Shore leave is supposed to be optional," Virgil shot back, but Patton could tell that his resolve was slipping away. Virgil took a while to warm up to things, but he could usually be convinced.

"Not when the whole reason we're here is to celebrate you!"

"And you," Virgil said, and he was much closer to the door now.

Patton stepped back and waited for the door to slide open. It did a moment later, and Virgil appeared still tugging on his gold tunic over the standard issue black undershirt. His dark brown hair, slightly longer than regulation permitted, stuck up in the back where he had been resting his head against his pillows. Patton absentmindedly smoothed it down, though he managed not to lick his hand to do so.

Virgil let him lead him down the hall toward the Transporter Room. "You know I'm not actually your kid, right?"

"But we look so much alike!" Patton smiled sunnily at him. Patton was sturdy and soft where Virgil was rail-thin, and his honey blonde hair and blue eyes contrasted with Virgil's own dark hair and darker eyes.

"Sure, pops." Virgil shook his head, but there was a fondness to it. "I look like your shadow."

He stuttered his steps as they approached the Transporter Room so Patton would enter before him. Virgil respected Captain Janus Gaines, but he was also keenly aware of their difference in rank whenever they shared space. While Captain Gaines played fast and loose with regulations and encouraged his crew to do the same, Virgil never forgot what those regulations were. They had been drilled into his head at the Academy and haunted him like a ghost no matter how casually the Captain treated him.

"Took you long enough," Janus drawled. "I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"That was one time," Virgil said before he could stop himself. Not that it mattered; Janus had only ever been amused by Virgil's backtalk.

The rest of the party to beam down were milling about like guests at a mixer, largely ignoring Virgil and Patton. Janus stood out among them not only for his nonchalance, but for his unusual appearance. He made no secret of rejecting his half-Vulcan heritage and regularly spirited away Lieutenant Commander Remus Aime to help him bleach his hair and eyebrows. This resulted in unhealthy-looking white-blond hair and stark black roots. To make up for this transgression, he kept his hair at an acceptable regulation length, one that revealed his mismatched ears. The left was pointed exactly as a Vulcan's ears would be, but the right was rounded like a human's. Contributing to the asymmetry were his mismatched eyes: the left was a piercing blue while the right was warm and brown.

"We're ready now!" Patton said. He often focused on the bridge of the Captain's nose to avoid staring openly at him, and he did so now with a sunny but vacant smile gracing his lips.

"Places, everyone," Janus said, cutting off the murmured conversation between the remaining party members.

They all stepped onto the platforms, Virgil with his stomach turning with nerves, Patton staring dead ahead, still smiling.

It was over in a blink.

Janus stepped forward, turning around so he could address his party. "Gentlemen," he said, raising his arms for maximum melodrama, "welcome to Ya'Lotus."

"Uh, yeah, so what is this place?" Virgil asked, stepping off his platform.

He was interrupted by Lieutenant Roman Aime, who had made no secret of his disregard for Virgil since day one. "Weren't you paying attention the first two times we explained it to you?"

Janus rolled his eyes, annoyed at having lost control of the conversation, but made no attempt to regain it. "Logan?"

The android nodded at him, stepping forward and edging Roman out of Virgil's space. "Lotus Island, located on the planet of Ya'Lotus, is a popular shore leave destination due to its vast array of amenities and unique ticket-based economy."

Virgil, who had not been paying attention in the slightest the first two times this was explained to him, frowned. "Ticket-based?"

"Like Earth money," Remus Aime interjected.

"Yeah, yeah," said Roman.

"Ooh, like the county fair!" Patton said.

Virgil wheeled around to face him. "Is that an Earth thing? I'm from Alpha Proxima II."

"Well," said Janus, regaining everyone's attention by clapping his hands once. "Thank you, Ensign Salem, for that fascinating little jaunt into your personal history. But seeing as we're here to have fun, why don't you just stick close to me until you figure everything out, hm?"

"Yes, sir," Virgil said, squinting at Janus. He, like many others, was never sure where he stood with the half-Vulcan, and was unsure what to make of him because of it.

"Joy," said Janus. Addressing the rest of the landing party, he said, "Virgil and I are off to the Tier III Lounge. Is anyone else coming?"

"Logan said he wanted to do the self-guided history tour," said Patton, nudging the android in the ribs.

Logan nodded, causing his ash blond hair to dance along the line of his jaw. His gray eyes differed from organic beings' only in that they reflected no light, and he turned this unsettling gaze upon Patton, who tried not to flinch. "That is correct."

"An island full of debauchery and you're going on a history tour?" Remus demanded, grabbing a fistful of Patton's shirt. Despite the height disparity (Patton being the tallest member of the party and Remus being the shortest), Patton bit his lip and leaned back as much as the young Romulan's grip allowed. With his extravagant face tattoos and devilish bearing, Lieutenant Commander Remus Aime was no stranger to getting his way through intimidation tactics.

"You get free salt water taffy," Patton said, glancing around to see who might assist him.

It was Remus' twin brother who came to his aid, yanking Remus back by the hair. "Knock it off."

"I am your superior officer!" Remus said, releasing Patton and turning to face his brother.

"Oh, I do apologize, Lieutenant Commander Hair Dye," Roman said. To Janus, who was toying with his bleached locks with an exaggerated carefree expression, Roman said, "We'll go with you."

"No way!" Remus said, freeing dark hair from his brother's grasp. "I don't want to go to some stuffy lounge."

"We'll find our own fun on the way," Roman said.

"Again with the melodrama." Janus sighed and looked over at Virgil, who was slouching with his hands jammed in his pockets. "Follow me. If we lose them, we lose them."

Janus turned on his heel, an impressive feat given he was supplementing his already substantial height with three-inch heels, and left the receiving Transporter Room with Virgil in tow. Always loath to be left out, Roman followed suit, trailing Remus, Patton, and Logan behind him.

The first stop was a massive receiving terminal where they were all made to spin a wheel to receive their first round of tickets.

"How, exactly, does this work?" Virgil asked, folding his tickets into a small stack.

"If you really cared to know, you should have paid attention the first two times Logan explained it to you," Janus said, stuffing his own tickets up his sleeve like an Earth magician. "You're more than welcome to join him and Doctor Kelsey on the history tour if you think that would be a better way to spend your time than a high-end liquor tasting."

"You know," Virgil said, "I think I'll stick with you."

"That's what I thought."

A fair distance behind them trailed the Romulan twins Vrih and Vaebri i-Elehu tr'Aime, better known but their preferred names. Given that they hailed from a particularly superstitious region of the planet Romulus, the twins had dubbed themselves "Roman" and "Remus'' respectively to avoid the bad luck of giving away their full names.

"Captain Quick Step is trying to ditch us," complained Remus, his boot heels clicking against the concrete. Patton and Logan had already peeled off, leaving the brothers to tag along after Janus and Virgil on their own.

"Don't let him," Roman urged, nudging Remus to hurry up.

Lotus Island was a hectic place, bustling with all races of aliens. Music rang out loud over strategically-placed speakers and workers called out for the crowd to try their luck at a variety of carnival games from multiple cultures. Sequestered away in gravity-defying skyscrapers were gambling halls, and further inland towered the tracks of massive roller coasters.

Remus dodged an inebriated Orion and nearly tripped, grabbing onto Roman's tunic to stay upright. "He's dodging and weaving, that bastard!"

"You shouldn't have worn heels," Roman chided, grabbing Remus by the wrist and yanking him forward.

"You're wearing heels, too."

"But I can actually walk in them."

Far ahead of them and gaining ground, Janus was employing Earth-based power walking techniques. Virgil stuck close behind him at a jog, toying with his tickets, privately amazed at the unfamiliar sensation of actual paper between his fingers.

Virgil, despite his rigorous Academy training, was somewhat out of breath. Janus was not, and even if he was, would not have allowed Virgil to see him gasping for breath. He had determined long ago to take the best of his Vulcan heritage and the best of his human heritage, suppressing his weak points far beneath the surface where no one could ever see them. Despite his fondness for Remus, Janus Gaines was simply not a man who allowed himself emotional attachments and weaknesses, and this had very little to do with his early childhood training on Vulcan.

"Any particular reason you're running me like a racehorse?" Virgil asked.

"Like you've ever seen a racehorse," Janus replied.

"Okay, don't answer the question."

Despite their rapid pace, Janus managed to turn and leer at Virgil, micro-expressing as only a Vulcan could. "Because it's funny."

Virgil didn't see what was so funny about ditching crewmates, but (wisely) kept that to himself. "Why don't we catch a lift, then?" He gestured to one of the many ride services available, surreys and bicycles, rickshaws and moving sidewalks.

"We're almost there," Janus said, motioning to a blue-black building ahead of them. The rounded windows were blacked out, leaving Virgil to wonder at what was inside.

It was a regular lounge, as he soon found out, quiet and upscale. The interior was dark and just a touch too cool for Virgil and Janus' liking. Virgil crossed his arms as he followed Janus to the bar, but was soon distracted by a familiar hissing and clicking from the corner. "Is that a pinball machine?"

Janus looked at him like he'd just said something phenomenally stupid, mostly to hide the fact that he had only a vague idea of what a pinball machine was. "You can worry about that or you can let me buy you a drink."

"Fine," said Virgil, who had yet to master the subtle and esoteric art of decoding Janus' communication style. He clambered onto a barstool and picked at the piping on his sleeves that denoted his rank while Janus ordered something that the universal translator couldn't translate into English.

The sensation of eyes on him made Virgil shudder. He ran a hand through his unruly hair and glanced down the bar only to make eye contact with a pair of green eyes. They belonged to a Vulcan Virgil had never seen before. Unsure of what to do, Virgil froze, leaving the Vulcan to break the eye contact. He looked Janus up and down, then up again, his gaze lingering on his bleached hair.

"Dude," said Virgil, once he had recovered from the off-putting sensation of having been cased and rejected, "I think that guy likes you."

Janus leaned forward and peered down the bar before pulling back in an attempt to hide behind Virgil. "Shit."

Then came the voice, bassy, yet undeniably Vulcan in its even monotone. "Chu'lak? I thought that was you."

"Fuck," said Janus, already smiling, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He slipped off the barstool and landed cleanly on his toes so the click of his heels didn't disturb the lounge's quietude. "Sihok."

Sihok saluted both Janus and Virgil, though his attention was mostly on Janus. "Scheduled shore leave?"

"A welcome party," Janus said, holding out his hand for a shake.

Sihok eyed it with what Virgil regarded incorrectly as apathy and Janus recognized as disgust and a trace of amusement. After a fraction of a section of hesitation, he shook Janus' hand. "And this is the new recruit?" he asked, indicating Virgil with a small nod.

"Ensign Virgil Salem," Janus said.

Virgil, who had been trained in cross-cultural contact, gave the proper Vulcan salute with a trembling hand. Despite being unable to decipher Sihok's body language, he could sense the tension between Sihok and Janus as keenly as he could the difference between scotch and bourbon. Somewhere behind them, Virgil registered the click of their drinks being set down.

"Ensign Salem," said Sihok. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Virgil said, trying not to fidget.

"It is gratifying to know that you've held on to your manners despite your proximity to Chu'lak and his… half-measures."

Virgil's eyes went wide and he quickly averted his gaze. But to Virgil's surprise, Janus, rather than dressing Sihok down, gave a cold chuckle and put a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "It's Janus. Captain Janus Gaines."

"You always did have trouble conforming," Sihok said.

"Yes," said Janus, "Mathematically speaking, I thought I would go for half acceptance. How do I measure up?"

Seeing that his companions were otherwise occupied in their strange battle of insults, Virgil rotated slightly to retrieve his drink from the bar behind him. He had a feeling he was going to need it if Sihok stuck around for much longer.

Sihok lifted one eyebrow ever so slightly. "They call you The Mad Vulcan."

"Well, now you have my attention." Janus turned and retrieved his own drink. "Shall we get a booth?" He knew perfectly well that Sihok was getting at something, and the mystery of the subject matter had him more curious than he would care to admit. He was reasonably sure he had managed to hide this from Sihok, having expressed anger and amusement as a sort of misdirection.

Virgil said, "Is this a worm?" He held his drink up to the light, examining the fizzing red liquid within to try to get a better look at the thing floating in it. "Like mezcal?" From the look Janus gave him, he judged that the universal translator hadn't been able to find a good Vulcan equivalent of the word. "Never mind. Booth?"

"But first." Janus held up his glass for Virgil to toast. "Congratulations, Ensign Salem. Welcome to the Foley."

"I didn't want to go to that stupid lounge, anyway," Remus said, crossing his arms. In a fit of pique, he grabbed Roman's braid, which ended just shy of his lower back, and gave it a yank.

"Oh, don't pick a fight with me just because you're grumpy," Roman said, flicking Remus' temple. "There's a million other things to do; I'm sure we can find something more fun than stalking the Captain and the new kid."

"Drugs?" said Remus, brightening considerably.

"I meant like a roller coaster or something, but if you want to go find an upper, I guess that's--"

"Let's go!" Remus started walking away.

"Seriously?" Roman said. "I was kidding! An island full of stuff to do and you want to get high?"

"Re-lax, Vrih. Janus will have a fit if I bring drugs onto the Foley, inside or outside of me. This is more of a personal challenge." Remus continued on his merry way, weaving behind buildings and sticking to areas so nondescript that Roman would have stayed away from them out of pure instinct.

"C'mon, Vaebri, I'm sure the heavily-regulated pleasure planet doesn't have a scary criminal underbelly for you to infiltrate. We're wasting time."

"We're almost there," said Remus.

"What do you mean we're almost there? Almost where? You've never even been here before."

"Do you ever shut up?"

Roman crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, but continued to follow Remus as he strode away from everything that made Lotus Island appealing. They ventured past a few 'Keep Out' signs written in Federation Standard and Vulcan into a gray jungle of humming machinery all locked inside tamper-resistant metal cages. Remus darted up to one particular machine and wasted no time jamming his face up against the grating.

"I'm gonna leave," Roman threatened, his arms still tightly crossed over his chest.

Remus was only half-listening, having just uncovered something he found far more interesting than gambling or thrill rides. "This powers an elevator!"

"Ooh," said Roman, barely giving the gray machinery a glance, "an elevator. Not like the Foley has turbolifts or anything."

"Someone wasn't paying attention to Logan's little spiel."

"Uh, yeah, Ensign Salem."

"No, no. You know what's under the island?"

"Water?"

Remus rolled his eyes and gave Roman's braid another tug. "You've been spending too much time with the Captain.

"Will you knock that off?" Roman demanded, kicking Remus in the shin.

"It's the staff's living quarters!" Remus said, growing bored with the argument.

"Oh," said Roman. "So we're definitely sneaking down there to take a look around?"

"Way ahead of you," Remus said, already fiddling with the control panel.

Behind them came the distinctive hiss of turbolift doors opening, followed by conversation. Roman and Remus, in a moment of synchronization, both turned on their heels and stood at attention. As Romulan twins, they were both fully aware of the attention they tended to attract once strangers figured out they weren't Vulcans. But the pair of humans, both wearing hot pink uniforms denoting them as staff members of Ya'Lotus, didn't so much as glance up as they carried on toward the Midway.

The twins exchanged a glance, then Remus dived for the closing doors with Roman hot on his tail.

"Nice," said Roman, already examining the panel of buttons.

Remus pressed one at random and the elevator began to drop, taking them far beneath the surface of Lotus Island. When the doors opened again, the twins were met with the sight of pale blue walls and concrete floors. It was eerily silent.

Roman stepped out hesitantly, looking around for any possible passers-by, but there was no one. He motioned for Remus to come out after him. While Remus held the higher rank, arbitrarily bestowed by Janus, Roman was the older (and bossier) twin and had yet to relinquish the sense of authority he had gained from a childhood of leading Remus around Romulus and, later, Decos Prime.

"What language is that?" Remus asked, nodding at the phrases painted on the walls.

Roman studied it for a moment. "Federation Standard. Sickbay is to the left, plus the Medical Staff Break Room. Living Quarters to the right."

"Break room," said Remus, already heading toward it. Roman fell into step beside him, so perfectly synchronized that the click of their heels on the concrete sounded like that of only one person. It was a trick they had perfected in childhood that had served them well in previous instances of trespassing.

"It's kinda freaky down here," Roman muttered. "Where is everybody?"

Remus shrugged. "Sleeping? Working?" He wasn't too bothered. Remus was of the mind that getting caught was half the fun of misbehaving.

"And what do you want with Sickbay, anyway?" No sooner had the words left Roman's lips did realization click into place. "Are you still on drugs?" he hissed, barely resisting the urge to grab Remus by the shirt and drag him back to the elevator.

"No, I'm not on drugs," Remus whispered back, displaying a picture-perfect shit-eating grin. "That's the problem." Upon spotting the door to the break room, he fell out of step with Roman and lunged forward to peek inside.

Roman was savvy enough to stop walking when he noticed Remus breaking away. He watched, half annoyed and half embracing the inevitable, as Remus froze in the doorway with wide eyes. With his facial tattoos, his unruly hair, and his mustache (which he had to shave before every inspection), Remus did not pass for Vulcan half as well as Roman did, even with his long hair.

Still, Remus straightened and crossed his arms behind his back, falling into a passable impression of Vulcan stoicism. "Good morning."

In the hall, Roman frantically flashed the Vulcan salute, trying to get Remus to notice.

"Officer," said a voice from within.

"Lieutenant Commander," said Remus, wiggling his fingers playfully at Roman behind his back.

"Did he send you?" asked another voice.

Remus' facade fractured for a moment, his lips twitching with excitement. He clenched one hand into a fist and shook it at Roman as much as his current positioning would allow. Roman rolled his eyes, confident now that Remus could see him.

"Yes." Remus had to fight to hold still as he stared down the two Caitians lounging at a table in the center of the room. They both had PADDs and communicators in front of them, both had half-empty mugs of a substance Remus couldn't identify.

One of the Caitians, whose name tag identified her as M'Birr, tilted her head at Remus, pupils going wide. "Shaa. What if he's lying?"

Remus rocked forward onto his toes, and he flashed several nonsense hand gestures at Roman behind his back in excitement. It was time to bring out one of Janus' favorite lines, albeit with less sarcasm than the Captain usually employed. "Vulcans do not lie."

"Yeah," said Shaa, her pupils also wide, "I have heard that. Beside, the Big Guy would have vetted him before sending him to us."

Bored with the waffling, Remus decided to take a risk. He had no way of knowing what or who the Caitians were referring to, or even if there was any mischief afoot. But Remus had a nose for trouble and he could see Roman getting bored in the hall. So he adjusted his posture and fixed M'Birr with his best impression of a calculating Vulcan stare. "I was instructed to obtain a sample of the product."

It was all he could do not to squirm in delight when M'Birr sighed and said, "He could have at least given you a Staff shirt. How am I supposed to sneak a member of Starfleet into Sickbay?"

"Incidentally," said Remus, still wiggling his fingers at Roman, who was pantomiming shock in his peripheral vision, "I wasn't told the name of the product."

"Like it matters," said M'Birr. "They're calling it 'kin.' How much did he tell you to move?"

Before Remus could answer, one of the communicators on the table chirped. "Voight here."

"Shaa."

"Starfleet's onto us."

Shaa side-eyed Remus, who took pains to hold completely still. "How can you be sure?"

"We've got two hitting all the stops on the trail. Not buying. Just looking. They went straight from the Help Desk to the Founder's Statue."

Remus and Roman sighed in tandem, both knowing full well it had to be Patton and Logan making their rounds on the self-guided tour.

"Not with us," Remus mouthed, looking M'Birr in the eye.

She exchanged a glance with Shaa, who shrugged briefly and addressed the communicator again. "What's the plan?"

"Dispatch. We can't let them off the planet."

"On our way." The two Caitians stood and moved toward the doorway where Remus was still standing. "Sorry, Lieutenant Commander, but we've got trouble."

Unable to help himself, Remus said, "You're just gonna leave me down here?"

"I'd think a Vulcan would know better than to cause trouble," M'Birr said pointedly. "Excuse me." She pushed past Remus, followed closely by Shaa. "And who's this?"

"Backup," said Roman, trying not to react to the sight of the two cat-like aliens before him.

M'Birr stared at him, calculating, but Shaa nudged her and said softly, "We don't have time for this."

"See yourselves out," said M'Birr. She and Shaa took off for the elevators, leaving Roman and Remus to stand awkwardly until they were out of sight.

"Drugs!" said Remus, stamping his heels on the floor and shimmying. "What did I tell you?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Roman, annoyed despite himself that Remus had gotten his way. "Can we go save our friends from getting murdered now?"

"Sure," said Remus, heading back toward the elevator, "if they haven't already died of boredom yet."

After receiving their specially-programmed PADDs for the self-guided tour (along with two bags of saltwater taffy), Patton and Logan had set off for the first stop on the tour.

"Ooh," said Patton, who was attempting to read, walk, and eat taffy at the same time. "There's trivia."

Logan grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him out of the way of a group of Andorians. "I believe that all the knowledge we gain here today could be referred to as 'trivia,' Doctor Kelsey."

"No, no." Patton shoved a candy wrapper in his pocket so he could use both hands to show Logan the PADD. "There's a trivia contest at the end! We should pay extra close attention."

"Noted," said Logan. "I will make an effort to keep the information in my memory banks."

"Oh, by the way." Patton navigated back to the map of Lotus Island. "You can call me Patton, you know."

"If you're sure," said Logan. "I am aware of the human concept of 'politeness' and did not wish to overstep if you were being polite when you introduced yourself."

"Nope! You really can call me Patton," Patton said cheerfully, holding up the PADD and rotating it, trying to get his bearings. "Where's Virgil when you need him?"

(Virgil was, at the moment, weighing up the benefits of crawling under the table and abandoning Janus and Sihok to their Vulcan mind games)

"Allow me to assist." Logan removed his own borrowed PADD from under his arm. "Next up is the, ah, 'Fun Wheel.'"

"That thing?" Patton asked, pointing to the massive Ferris wheel ahead of them. At their current proximity, the hulking metal contraption dominated the horizon.

"Yes," said Logan, biting back a sarcastic comment. The Captain responded well to sarcasm and Logan's communication style had evolved accordingly, but time and experience had shown that most people found Janus' sarcasm off-putting. And Logan had seen him don the mask of diplomacy, which received much better reception. So Logan decided he would be diplomatic in the hopes that it would make Patton feel at-ease. Logan did not want to be the crewmember responsible for scaring off their new CMO.

They made for the Ferris wheel, Patton still with his nose buried in the PADD. "You get more taffy for correctly answering trivia questions!"

"What could we possibly do with more taffy?" Logan asked.

"Share it with the others!"

They reached the viewing platform of the defunct Fun Wheel and both held up their PADDs to read the description.

What the PADDs did not tell them was that less than 30 guests attended the self-guided tour per Earth year and those guests that did were rarely members of Starfleet. The PADDs had also not been programmed with the knowledge that every single stop on the tour was a tradeoff point for distributors of a new drug known colloquially as 'kin,' as the scientific name was several syllables long, untranslatable from Golic Vulcan, and contained a multitude of niche phonemes.

"Do you smell that?" Logan asked, searching his memory banks for several pieces of data at once.

Patton sniffed and looked around in confusion. "The ocean?" Most of Ya'Lotus consisted of a saltwater ocean that contained no indigenous life. The sea breeze was fresh and cool and smelled, to Patton's human nose, unremarkable.

Logan shook his head. "There is a strong chemical smell emanating from the lower cabin of the Ferris wheel. I believe it may be opioid in nature."

"Opioid?" Patton sniffed and again could only smell rust and sweet ocean air. "You can get all that just from the smell?"

Logan nodded and approached the low metal fence, leaning over it to try to get a closer look at the cabin. It was caged off and covered with a fine mesh that blocked even his keen android eyesight. He cycled through his senses, again landing on smell as his best means of solving the puzzle before him. Beneath the smell of iron and grease, there was a definite tang of something other, something distinctly sedative. He wasn't specialized to identify chemicals like this, and the sensation of answers dancing just out of reach in his databank was enough to elicit an emotional reaction. He looked at Patton and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fuck."

"Whoa!" said Patton, tucking the PADD under his arm. "What's wrong?"

"Forgive me, Doct-- Patton. I am expressing frustration because I would like to know the source of the smell."

Patton leaned in over the guardrail. "Maybe it's just an industrial agent you're smelling? I can't think of any reason why opioid drugs would be anywhere near a Ferris wheel. Not here, anyway. Not on this planet."

"You're right," Logan said. "I will let it go." To emphasize this, he let go of the railing and stepped back. "Are you finished reading?"

"Yeah," said Patton, also backing up. "Let's move on."

And they turned and walked away from the first hidden kin manufacturing still on the tour.

By this point, Janus was fairly sure Sihok was getting at something, though he was circling around the point like a seabird waiting for the kill. It was a tactic Janus could respect, though it was decidedly un-Vulcan. Virgil, meanwhile, signaled for another round of drinks with his fingers. He too had an idea that Sihok was getting at something, and that Janus was as well. While he was admittedly inexperienced with Vulcan body language, he was reasonably sure that Janus hadn't figured it out yet. With boredom and alcohol combining in his mind, Virgil sat back and decided to try to figure it out before Janus did. Sure, he was just an Ensign, but he wasn't stupid.

At the moment, Sihok and Janus (whom Sihok insistently referred to by his Vulcan name, Chu'lak) were talking lightly about their careers.

"I thought," said Janus, drawing one fingertip around the rim of his glass, "you were studying xenobiochemistry."

"I was."

"So how did you end up here of all places?" He gestured to the room at large. Virgil, tracking the movement with his eyes, caught sight of the pinball machine and gazed longingly at it before remembering himself. "As I recall, you had a natural talent for the sciences. If you'll forgive my saying so, working security at a glorified casino seems a bit beneath you."

Sihok's expression did not change that Virgil could see, but he marked that Janus was smirking just a bit.

Sihok nodded. "I discovered in the course of my schooling that xenobiochemistry better suits me as a hobby. And, if you will permit a lapse in logic, I find the the atmosphere of Ya'Lotus most agreeable."

"You dig the vibe," Virgil blurted before he could stop himself. Janus and Sihok both stared at him and before his eyes, the expressions he had mistaken for disapproval read simply as confused. A small spark of triumph ignited in him; he was learning to understand Vulcan mannerisms.

"That didn't translate," Janus said.

"I thought you spoke Federation Standard," Virgil said.

"That was not Federation Standard."

Virgil's cheeks began to burn. "Ah, never mind. You were saying?"

"I think," said Sihok, "there is a certain beauty in mathematics. Do you agree?"

"Sure," said Janus. "But why do I get the feeling that you're not referring to fractals?"

Virgil fished a maraschino cherry out of his drink and began to bat it around the table with his fingertips.

"There is an objective beauty in symmetry," Sihok said vaguely. "No one could argue that. But it's asymmetry that has my interest. Chu'lak, answer a question for me."

"Yes?"

"Where are you staying tonight?"

Virgil stilled, his eyes flicking to Janus. He had no doubt that the question had translated oddly, that Sihok wasn't seriously propositioning Janus. But Janus had been given an opportunity to tease, and even from his limited experience aboard the Foley, Virgil knew that Janus rarely passed up an opportunity to make fun.

"I hadn't decided yet," Janus said with an arch smile, staring at Sihok under his lashes. "The Foley, I suppose, or someplace lavish if I ever make it to the casino."

Virgil resumed playing with the cherry, knowing on some level that he was behaving unprofessionally. He was just drunk enough to not care, the alcohol softening the sharp edges of his anxieties.

"Why?" Sihok asked.

"Why?" Janus repeated.

"You have everything you need on the Foley, don't you? And the free accommodations here are sufficient to sustain life? Why strive for more?"

Janus made no effort to hide his confusion. His patience was wearing thin. He had been intrigued at first by Sihok's vague enterprise, but his insistent refusal to get the point left Janus struggling for diplomacy. "I didn't think you cared for philosophy, Sihok. You've changed."

"Think it over," Sihok said.

The maraschino cherry rolled across the table. Virgil grabbed for it, having flicked it a little harder than intended, but missed, and watched in a hazy mixture of horror and amusement as it rolled off the edge of the table, hit Janus in the knee, and bounced to the floor.

"Sorry," Virgil mumbled, already ducking to grab it. Movement under the table caught his eye; Sihok adjusted his grip on something. Forgetting the cherry, Virgil eyed it curiously. It looked very like the rolls of Lifesavers that Alpha Proxima II would import from Earth, little pieces of culture to keep the colonists connected to their heritage. Virgil had preferred dark chocolate bars and later, coffee and brandy, but his mother had been quite fond of the sharp taste of spearmint Lifesavers. Whatever Sihok had a grip on was wrapped in a translucent white paper that allowed Virgil to see the colorful discs within. Not wanting to linger too long, Virgil resurfaced with the cherry and set it down on a cocktail napkin. "Sorry," he said again.

"Didn't you say you wanted to try the pinball machine?" Janus asked. He was already formulating an exit strategy, but it had never been his intention to hold Virgil hostage. Sihok was taking his time getting to his point, and this was supposed to be a welcome party for Virgil. "Here." He scooted out of the booth and stood.

"Thank you," Virgil said. He walked slowly, listening as Janus apologized and Sihok began to wax philosophical once more about the beauty of asymmetry in mathematics.

A few rounds on the Starfleet-themed pinball machine only left Virgil frustrated and half-sober, overstimulated. He didn't understand why Janus didn't just make an excuse and go. They had both been drawn in by Sihok's vague manner, but Virgil knew that his continued refusal to get to the point must have been driving Janus crazy.

The music changed to something reminiscent of heavy metal, blast beats ringing loud in Virgil's ears. He practically felt in his face: the shredding guitars, the way all the conversations became louder to compensate, the beeps of the pinball machine. Virgil had been declared mentally fit to serve in Starfleet, having proven he could push through bouts of anxiety and even thrive in high-pressure situations. But subjecting himself to the torment of this noisy bar was unpleasant and wholly unnecessary, so he turned and followed signs for the bathroom.

Once inside, he leaned back against one of the cool metal walls, heedless of the potential for infection. He had been vaccinated for just about everything under the sun upon joining Starfleet and he doubted any pathogen on Lotus Island could make it through his defenses.

The door opened and shut and a human stepped in, eyed Virgil up and down. "You look like you could use a chill pill."

It was old vernacular, slang Virgil had picked up at the Academy, because no one on Alpha Proxima II talked like that. He was quiet for a moment, wondering if this stranger was merely using a turn of phrase or if they were, in fact, stupid enough to offer drugs to a member of Starfleet. He decided on the former. "Am I that obvious?"

"You're about to chew a hole in your lip," the stranger said. "Look, you're already bleeding."

Virgil had long grown used to the taste of iron on the tip of his tongue. "It's just a little loud out there."

"I've got meds that can help with that," the stranger said.

Virgil blinked and reassessed: they really were that dumb. "I'm Starfleet," he said incredulously, glancing down at his yellow tunic in case he had somehow taken it off and forgotten about it.

"So what, you're not allowed to cut loose a little? You're on vacation."

Virgil scoffed and let the back of his head rest on the wall, marveling at the audacity of this strange human.

To buy himself time, he walked over to the sink and began to wash his hands. A plan was beginning to form in Virgil's head, neurons firing and making connections. He steeled himself and turned back to the stranger. "How much?"

"So, and just so I'm crystal clear on this," Remus said, stomping along beside Roman with his unstyled mohawk ruffled by the breeze, "our heroic plan to rescue Patton and Logan is to take the guided tour?"

"Oh, shut up." Roman backed away from the Help Desk and shoved the PADD at Remus. "Ugh, I don't understand maps at all. Where's Virgil when you need him?"

(Answer: Making a drug deal in the bathroom of the Tier III Lounge).

Remus studied the PADD. Roman had already set the translation to Romulan, but it was crude and hard to navigate. "Man of metals?" he asked, squinting.

"Oh, nevermind." Roman snatched the PADD back and began to walk. "It's the Founder's Statue. It's made of titanium and platinum. Get it?"

"Well, that's a terrible translation," Remus grumbled.

"Maybe you should learn Federation Standard," Roman nagged. This was far from the first argument they'd had about it and he already knew that Remus would refuse point-blank, masking his frustration and insecurity behind stubbornness. Remus had none of his brother's knack for languages, and while he was a talented engineer, he'd always struggled with his classes far more than Roman had.

"Maybe the Federation should start using Romulan," Remus shot back, and changed the subject before Roman could escalate the argument. "You never answered my question. What's the plan?"

"We need to catch up with either Patton and Logan or, uh… the Caitians."

"Shaa," Remus said with unnecessary smugness, pleased to have something on Roman, "and M'Birr."

"Sure."

They were both out of breath by the time they reached the Founder's Statue, both privately regretting the decision to wear heeled boots. The marginal boost to their height still left them the shortest members of the crew, a fact for which Janus loved to tease them.

"Onward to the next one," Roman said, looking around and seeing no one. He held up the PADD, and Remus peered over his shoulder.

"Rotation wheel," Remus read in Romulan. He looked up at the towering Ferris wheel in the near distance. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard to find."

"It's called a Ferris wheel," Roman complained. "It's a proper noun. Why would they try to translate that?"

Remus paused so he could stamp his foot. "Focus."

"Yeah, yeah." Roman tucked the PADD under his arm.

They caught sight of the two Caitians just after the Ferris wheel and pulled back to avoid being spotted.

"They have guns!" Remus said, a touch too loud even for his own liking. "Real guns! Not phasers!"

"Speaking of…" Roman sighed and touched his hip where his phaser and communicator would sit. Weapons were not allowed anywhere on Ya'Lotus and communication was restricted to their own official channels. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Vulcan nerve pinch?" Remus reached over and grabbed Roman's neck.

Roman stared at him, unamused. "Right, so we'll just try to stay out of a fight. Maybe if we can get around them, we can catch Logan and Patton and, uh… Well, get the Captain, I guess."

"Running off to get Daddy at the first sign of trouble," Remus sighed. "This is why I got promoted and you didn't."

"Yes, that's why. Not because you were the only one stupid enough to risk bleaching the Captain's eyebrows for him."

"Only chemical burned him one time!" Remus said proudly. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"Oh." Roman consulted the PADD. "Banana stand."

"What's a--"

"Walk and talk."

Remus shook Roman's hand off his shoulder. "What's that?"

"It's a kind of Earth fruit. I'm sure they have them here, since the founder of Ya'Lotus was human."

"Boring," said Remus. "Race you!" He took off running, moving awkwardly in his heeled boots. Roman sighed, looked around, and grabbed a tandem bike. It was not the most dignified form of transportation on the island, but it was one he happened to be familiar with. He and Remus both had a bit of a fascination with human history: Remus specializing in weaponry and warfare and Roman preferring to study courtship rituals. He mounted the bike with only a little difficulty, found his balance, and pedaled after Remus

"C'mon, get on."

"Oh!" said Remus happily, not even bothered by the direct order. "It's like a motorcycle with pedals!"

"How have you heard of a motorcycle but not a banana?"

"Will you focus?" Remus flicked Roman's shoulder blade. "You are now officially the Navigator and Helmsman of the Federation vessel Gemini."

"Subtle." Roman would have rolled his eyes, but between trying to steer and keep an eye on the PADD, didn't want to risk it. "What does that make you?"

"The Captain, obviously," Remus said. Roman put his head down as they pedaled by Shaa and M'Birr, but Remus whooped and flashed them a rude hand sign.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" Roman wheezed, a little winded from having to haul both his and Remus' weight. "Fucking pedal!"

"Don't talk to your captain like that," Remus said, giving the pedals a few half-hearted turns.

"Could you at least take this a little seriously? Our crewmates are in danger!"

"Oh," said Remus, kicking his feet out, "guns aren't that dangerous. Not compared to phasers."

Roman just huffed and didn't answer. He steered them to the banana stand without incident and, upon seeing Patton and Logan about to leave, dived off the bike to reach them. Ignoring Remus' annoyed cries behind him, he sprinted over to his wayward crewmates. "Hey!"

"Roman," said Logan, glancing over at Patton in surprise. "You appear to be in distress."

"We gotta get out of here," Roman said in Romulan. Despite the universal translator, he usually switched to Federation Standard out of politeness when speaking with Logan and their human crewmates (though Patton's native language was Welsh), but he was too stressed at the moment to try to switch gears.

Behind him, Remus cursed and examined his left palm, which he had thrown out to break his fall when the bike had tipped. "I'm gonna kill you."

"Kill me later!" Roman shouted back. "We gotta go!" He wrapped his arms around Patton and Logan's waists and started to steer them toward the crowded boardwalk. "Remus!"

"I'm bleeding!" Remus said, scampering to meet them.

"You are?" Patton stopped and turned, ignoring Roman's cursing. "Is it bad?"

"Kiss it better?" Remus asked, batting his lashes.

Roman dragged his hands down his face. "Do you want to get in a gunfight with-- Oh, don't answer that. Of course you do."

"Forgive me, Lieutenant, did you say gunfight?" Logan asked, extricating himself from Roman's slackening grip.

"We don't have time for this!" Roman stamped his foot to try to get Remus' attention, but he was too busy playing up his injury for Patton. He only had a few minor scrapes across his palm, a few dots of green blood here and there.

"Roman, I must insist that you explain," Logan said. "I understand that you are agitated, but if you simply explain the situation, I'm sure we can--"

"We don't have time!" Roman interrupted. "Is it not enough to know that we're in danger?" He turned to his brother, desperation shining in his eyes. "Back me up on this."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you tried to murder your superior officer," Remus said as Patton continued to pick bits of gravel out of his palm.

Along the path, Roman caught sight of the Caitians. Their pace was quick but not frantic as they scanned the horizon for their target, hands on their guns. Roman whispered an untranslatable swear word and made a decision.

Abandoning his crewmates, he straightened, crossed his arms behind his back, and strode forward to meet M'Birr and Shaa.

"Greetings" he said, trying not to let his voice tremble.

"You again?" said Shaa, crossing her arms. "Where's your partner?"

Roman swallowed. "After some discussion, we agreed it would be logical to interfere on your behalf."

"How so?" M'Birr asked. She frowned at Roman, her eyes scanning him.

"We acted under the belief that Starfleet officers would be more likely to trust other Starfleet officers. As you can see, we were correct. We have gained their trust and ascertained that they are not aware of the operation." Shaa tilted her head, and Roman felt compelled to add, "Vulcans do not lie."

"If you're really Vulcans," M'Birr said, still eyeing him with wide-pupiled green eyes. "And not, say, Romulans."

Roman forced his face to remain impassive. "That is an easy mistake to make, particularly if one is not familiar--"

"Oh, shut up." M'Birr drew her gun. "We can take care of all four of you."

Roman's pulse and breathing quickened, his vision narrowing to a very small spot, centering on the matte black of M'Birr's handgun. It was bulkier than a phaser and, he reminded himself, less deadly. He stared at the barrel, mind formulating and discarding half-formed plans for escape. Regardless of what Remus had said, he really didn't want to get shot.

What Roman did not see in his narrow-minded panic, was Remus abandoning Patton and flanking his brother and his assailants. He also did not see Patton flanking the other side, nor did he notice Logan appropriating a golf cart from a confused family of humans.

Remus flew into Roman's field of vision and tackled M'Birr, followed shortly by Patton who dropped Shaa with a sweeping kick to the knees. Adrenaline kicked in and Roman grabbed Remus by the wrist and hauled him up, spotted the golf cart, and dived for it. Patton beat them there and swung around to the passenger seat.

"Go, go, go!" they all shrieked, and Logan obediently stepped on the accelerator. The golf cart began to roll forward at a leisurely pace.

"Oh, are you kidding me?" Roman demanded.

"It's okay!" Remus said. He had turned so he could peer out the back, and was happy to see Shaa and M'Birr still struggling on the ground. "Dang, Patton, I think you broke Shaa's leg."

"Don't say that!" Patton wrapped his arms around himself and instead turned his attention to Roman. "What was that all about, anyway?"

Roman explained, punctuated by interjections from Remus. This concluded with Remus sitting back in his seat with a huff. "I can't believe nobody got shot."

"Should we have confiscated their guns?" Patton wondered out loud.

"Hopefully security will deal with them," Logan said. "Does anyone know where the Tier III Lounge is, by the way? I've been making evasive maneuvers, and now I am unsure--"

"So we're lost," Remus interrupted. "Possibly with more assassins after us, if the kitties called for backup."

Roman rested his forehead against the back of Patton's seat. "I hope the Captain is having a better day than we are."

Despite the lack of immediate danger, Janus was having a much worse day than the whole of his crew, save perhaps Virgil, who was still negotiating his drug deal in the bathroom.

"So you see," Sihok was saying, his drink nearly untouched, "an asymmetrical system is beautiful not only for those at the top, but for those at the bottom by instilling hope in them that they might someday reach the top."

"Capitalism," said Janus, bored. "You just described capitalism."

"Perhaps I did," Sihok said, and displayed the Vulcan equivalent of a guarded smile.

Janus masked his utter confusion behind raucous laughter. "Sihok, what exactly are you implying?"

"Nothing at all," said Sihok primly. "I was merely displaying my admiration for the artful execution of a certain style of economics."

That was when Virgil emerged from the bathroom clutching a roll of tablets, the drug known as 'kin.' It was identical to the one Sihok was holding, and the implications of this turned his stomach. Sihok was head of security for the whole of Ya'Lotus, and the way he had spoken to Janus had implied that he was after something, though Virgil had no idea what it could be.

Virgil hurried over to the table, heart racing in anticipation of what he was about to do. He had information that Janus might need and he couldn't speak it out loud. After hearing he had been assigned to the Foley, he had made a point to study the biology and abilities of Vulcans, though he had no idea what telepathic abilities Janus might have inherited as a human-Vulcan hybrid, and a genetic anomaly at that. Virgil was taking a risk, one that might draw the Captain's ire or make him look foolish, which was as dire a consequence to Virgil as death.

He approached the booth and, before Janus could get up, gently rested his hand on Janus' shoulder.

Janus froze. Sihok marked this, and Virgil noticed him notice. Dread trickled down his spine like cold water. "Excuse me, Captain," he said weakly.

"Bored already?" Janus asked. He directed an amused look at Sihok and said, "The human attention span," in a tone of patient exhaustion, then got up to let Virgil in.

Virgil was careful not to brush up against Sihok's legs, but he could tell that Sihok was staring as he scooted back up against the wall. Despite Janus' lack of reaction, he had a sneaking suspicion that his plan had worked too well and that not only Janus, but Sihok as well had picked up on the information he had transmitted.

They all lingered for a moment in a silent standoff. It was Janus who broke the silence, laughing again and rolling his eyes. "I have to say, Sihok, I'm a little disappointed. And offended, if I'm being honest." He took the roll of kin from Virgil and set it on the table. "You're pushing a capitalist drug empire on a pleasure planet. What was the master plan? To establish a capitalist regime within the Federation with you at the top? How un-Vulcan."

Sihok ignored the slight. "I had intended to offer you a partnership. Are you declining?"

"Was that not obvious?" Janus asked, abandoning the last of his pretense at Vulcan restraint. "Not only am I declining, I'm calling you an idiot. Sihok, you are an idiot and a disgrace to the planet Vulcan, and I don't mean that as a compliment. I suppose now you're going to kill us before we can report you to Starfleet?"

"Yes," said Sihok.

"How?" asked Janus. "We're sitting down. Do you want to arm wrestle us to death?" Sihok took a breath to speak and Janus cut him off, "Don't even think about your phaser. Sure, you could get one of us, at which point the other would disarm you."

"Well," said Sihok, "it seems we have reached an impasse."

Virgil took another risk. "May I?" he asked, nodding at Sihok's drink. "You haven't touched it and if I'm going down today, I'm going down drinking."

"Control your crewman," Sihok said to Janus, deadly serious.

Virgil took the drink. "Thanks." He held onto the tumbler, using the numbing ache of chilled glass against his palm to ground himself.

"So," said Janus, disregarding Virgil, "an impasse."

"About that," said Sihok. "Your Ensign is new to Starfleet; you said so earlier." He drew his phaser and aimed it at Janus. "I do not believe he has the capacity to disarm me, especially as he has been drinking and his reaction time will be slowed."

Thinking that now was as good a time as any, Virgil touched Janus' leg and splashed his drink in Sihok's face. They both scrambled out of the booth and sprinted out the door. They paused for a moment to get their bearings, and that was when a golf cart plowed into Virgil at a speed equivalent to 10 miles per hour.

Logan hit the brake and reversed so as not to run over Virgil's legs. "Forgive me, Ensign Salem. Are you alright?"

Roman, who hadn't picked his head up from the back of Patton's seat, began to lightly tap his forehead against the metal support bar. "Please tell me you didn't just kill our Helmsman when we need him most."

Virgil scrambled to his feet, too full of adrenaline to register any serious pain. "We gotta get out of here."

"You too, huh?" Remus said. He patted the seat next to him and addressed Janus. "Climb aboard."

Janus hopped on and was forced to sit on Remus' lap. Unruffled, he barked, "Ensign Salem, evasive maneuvers. Now."

Virgil hopped into the driver's seat, which Logan had recently vacated, waited for Logan to clamber onto the back of the golf cart, and slammed down the accelerator. "Where to?"

"Evasive maneuvers, Ensign Salem. Let's lose our pursuers before we worry about a destination."

"Yes, sir." Virgil pulled around the back of the Tier III Lounge just as a dripping-wet Sihok emerged, phaser drawn. The chase that ensued was unremarkable, as the golf cart began to pick up speed while emitting a worrisome whining noise.

"I made some adjustments to the engine while we were moving," Remus said proudly.

"That's impossible," Janus answered.

"I said that, too," Logan said.

Virgil continued to steer them in concentric circles around Lotus Island, self-assessing now that he was calmer. He could already feel the dull ache of impending bruises on his hip and elbow, but the damage seemed minimal.

"So," said Roman, "who are you evading?"

"Oh," said Janus, feigning boredom, "just a would-be capitalist drug lord Vulcan hellbent on murdering us. You?"

Roman put the pieces together. "Said Vulcan's lackeys, also hellbent on murdering us."

"Oh!" said Patton and Logan simultaneously, albeit for very different reasons: Patton to express dismay and concern, Logan realizing why he had smelled opioids earlier.

"You're welcome, by the way," Remus said, addressing Patton since he was easier to reach. "Those Caitians were after you and Logan."

"Thanks," Patton said weakly. "You know, I'm not feeling very relaxed."

Janus looked around and, seeing no trace of either murderous Caitians or murderous Vulcans, leaned forward to address Virgil. "Set a course for the Transporter Building, departures terminal. Let's get the Hell out of here."

After making some arrangements on the viewing deck, Janus arranged for Virgil and Patton to be summoned from their rooms, where they had both gone to decompress. Virgil and Remus had first been strongarmed into going to Sickbay, where Patton looked them over and pronounced them fit for duty.

Remus was showing off his bandaged hand to Janus and regaling him with a greatly embellished tale of how he had received the injury when the doors slid open and Virgil and Patton appeared.

Patton came in first, Virgil lingering behind him. "Aw!" he said, looking around at the array of alcohol and finger foods arranged picnic-style on the floor. "What's this?"

"It's your welcome party," Janus explained. "Since Ya'Lotus didn't quite work out. Come sit."

Patton sat down next to Logan, leaving Virgil to occupy the empty space next to Janus. Janus offered him half a smile. "You did well today, Virgil. You may even have saved my life." He paused, then added, "Although I probably still could have disarmed Sihok before he got the shot off. Regardless." He poured Virgil a glass of bourbon. "Thank you, Ensign Salem. You did well."

"Yay, Virgil!" Patton said happily.

After ensuring that everyone had drinks, Janus regained command of everyone's attention and raised his glass. "A toast to honor our new crewmates. Virgil Salem, Patton Kelsey." He looked at them in turn. "Welcome aboard the Foley."

#spicywrites #spicywrites ticket crimes #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #platonic dlampr

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mylittleredgirl · 4 years

Text

Spending a lot of time trying to untangle Maquis plot confusion instead of just writing my Maquis fic but so far I’ve collected such collected topics as:

I knew Chakotay wasn’t from Dorvan V despite fanon consensus but I didn’t remember why I knew that until I just watched “Journey’s End” -- that planet was settled only ~21 years before “Caretaker” (and Chakotay left for the academy at age 15, so he wouldn’t even have lived there very long, if at all). In “Tattoo” Chakotay says his people colonized their world a few hundred years ago. The Dorvan V tribe left earth >200 years ago, but they spent the intervening years as space nomads -- and if they’d opted to make Chakotay a member of that tribe, that would’ve been a resonant backstory for a show about space nomads looking for home.

Really unclear if the Maquis are Federation citizens or not. The Dorvan V colonists have to renounce their Federation citizenship in order to be allowed to stay in Cardassian territory, and Picard specifically tells them that any requests for help from the Federation will not be answered as a result. However, this seems like a unique case. In subsequent episodes, the Maquis are specifically called Federation citizens (by Admiral Necheyev in DS9′s “The Maquis” and by Picard in TNG’s “Preemptive Strike”). Based on something Kalita says about medical supplies in “Preemptive Strike” and the presence of a Starfleet liaison in the zone in “The Maquis”, it seems that the Federation is providing some limited supplies and support to the Federation colonies in the zone. (Stardate-wise, all these episodes take place in 2370.)

A year later, in DS9′s “For the Cause”, Eddington says that if Kasidy is a Maquis “she’s no longer a Federation citizen.” Sisko doesn’t correct him, but it seems unlikely to me that the Federation’s response to criminal activity would be to revoke citizenship (especially without due process), so I assume this comes from the other side -- that by 2372 the Maquis have taken a public stance of declaring themselves no longer citizens of the Federation.

The question of civilian Maquis colonies is interesting. At the time Voyager leaves the Alpha Quadrant, it seems like the Maquis are a loosely organized militia with many of their members living in civilian Federation colonies with other occupations. The location that Ro infiltrates is called a “Maquis encampment.” The numbers seem to grow pretty fast. When B’Elanna hears the news that the Maquis have been destroyed, she says “there are thousands of us.” (Her info would have been accurate to “Caretaker” era - 2371.)

By the time we get to the later Eddington era (2373), there are full on Maquis colonies with a total population in the hundreds of thousands. I assume this means that some (or all) civilian Federation colonies in the zone are now identifying as Maquis. At one point, Eddington says that before being wiped out by the Dominion, the Maquis colonies were planning to declare themselves an independent nation.

The destruction of the Maquis is just... horrifying. I hadn’t watched the last Maquis episode “Blaze of Glory” in a while, so I was going off the Voyager reports and assumed that the members of the paramilitary Maquis org had been wiped out -- but on DS9, Dukat’s message in “By Inferno’s Light” declares there won’t be a single Maquis colony left in the DMZ, and they just told us the previous episode that there are hundreds of thousands of people on Maquis colonies. In “Blaze of Glory”, we learn that there were 3 days of graphic reports coming in of the destruction happening in real time. I would hope those reports were coming from Federation ships trying to help evacuate the civilian population in the DMZ, but with Starfleet making a stand at DS9 during that exact time period and them not even throwing us a line of dialogue about relief missions, that’s just me hoping.

I’m willing to just call this one a mistake: the date Chakotay gives for his resignation from Starfleet in that one with fake Starfleet Academy “In the Flesh” is in early 2368, a few years before the DMZ -- or the Maquis -- are formed. The armistice and ongoing treaty negotiations with Cardassia is a drawn-out process for the last 3 seasons of TNG, so it’s possible?? that Chakotay left Starfleet out of protest early on, and only later joined the Maquis (or helped create it), but I’m pretty sure somewhere it’s stated that he left specifically for the Maquis, or at least, to defend a colony which had been given to the Cardassians in the treaty (which doesn’t happen until 2370, though it’s certainly possible that the Cardassians were harassing colonists before then without jurisdiction). His name isn’t given, but Ro Laren is pretty clearly setting up Chakotay’s character when she talks about a respected Lieutenant Commander who instructed her in tactical training (in 2370) who was sympathetic to the Maquis and then resigned to join them... so I tend to go with that as making more sense, despite the date tossed in there later.

#the maquis #star trek #do i need any of this information to get characters to hook up with leather pants on? probably not

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honourablejester · 3 years

Text

Since I’m apparently on the subject of bioluminescent mermaids again, I went back and dug up some worldbuilding notes for the story I originally had the idea for, and which basically never actually got written. It was essentially going to be a sci-fi/horror/noir set on a maritime planet (Lemuria), starring an eldritch abyssal mermaid nightclub performer and her nightclub-owner human partner (in all senses), dealing with industrial sabotage and race relations in a submarine city run by geothermal power.

If you want to see what my worldbuilding notes for stories often look like, this is (sometimes) it. Sometimes. Actually, this is quite organised for me. Normally I just wing it on the day.

Lemuria Notes

Contents:

Planet Lemuria (geography, inhabitants, language)

Major Nations/Peoples of Lemuria

Interplanetary Issues (Galactic Ruling/Judiciary Bodies)

Actual Story Idea

Planet Lemuria:

Lemuria has a very slow rotation around its own axis, especially compared to its solar orbit, with one full Lemurian day lasting two thirds of a Lemurian year. Planetary nights last for four months at the equators. The planet is primarily oceanic at this phase in its geological history, with two small continents still in existence, both largely on the same ('continental') side of the planet, and a series of many occupied island chains in the vast oceans on the other ('oceanic') side of the planet. Lemuria is home to a significant human colonial population on these landmasses, being gradually settled over the past 300 galactic years.

Lemuria is also home to what are called the demimondaine, which is a (human) collective term for the two or three loosely connected species of semi-humanoid aquatic beings (‘mermaids’) who are the original and continuing inhabitants of the planet. Demimondaine are broadly divided into three main types: surface or island demimondaine (warm-blooded, amphibious, very humanoid surface or upper water column demimondaine), ocean or deep water demimondaine (cold-blooded, amphibious, semi-humanoid mid-column demimondaine from the deeper oceans away from the islands and continents), and abyssal demimondaine (semi-humanoid, biomorphous, non-amphibious demimondaine from the sea floor and abyssal plains/trenches). The demimondaine form several major nation states on the planet, and have a (mostly) friendly and cooperative relationship with the human colonies, having granted permission for human settlement on their planet three hundred galactic years ago.

A note on languages and names: as most of the demimondaine languages are unpronounceable and largely unintelligible to humans, owing to the difference in vocal construction, most of the names given in this document are the human names for places and beings. Communication between humans and demimondaine is largely text-based, as demimondaine have several glyph-based writing systems (most language groups have one or two) that are translatable to human systems. Electronic text-based translation is the standard, though there are also several pidgin sign-languages in use, particularly in trade cities like Jasconius, Zaratan and Ys, and in the Island Union, since hand-shape is largely similar between species.

(Further note on all of this: I am bullshitting to the max, having no scientific background on any of it at all)

Nations/Settlements of Note:

Zealandia: the largest continent and surface nation, located in the southerly continental oceans and generally enjoying a very warm and humid tropical climate. Lemurine, its capital city, is the administrative colonial capital of Lemuria. The continent hosts 54% of all colonial residents and off-planet visitors to Lemuria. Zealandia is the main surface agricultural production area, and it boasts a significantly different and human-orientated diet to much of the rest of Lemuria. Baralku, the primary Lemuria-to-orbit spaceport, is located just south of Lemurine City.

Kerguelen: the smaller continent, located to the north west of Zealandia on the continental side of the planet. Kerguelen has a colder climate than Zealandia, and is primarily home to forestry and ore mining, with a small agricultural zone. It is the other main colonial settlement and nation state, along with the Island Union on the oceanic side of the planet. Kusu is the capital for this landmass.

The Island Union: a nation state comprised of several of the largest island chains in the central and southern oceanic seas, controlling much of the territory west of Deep Mu and east of Zealandia on the oceanic side of the planet. The Island Union has the most integrated mixed human and demimondaine population on Lemuria, with both species represented in its ruling body. It also has the widest range of both human and demimondaine languages in current use.

Kibu Island/Spaceport: the main Lemuria-to-orbit spaceport and atmospheric transport hub on the oceanic side of the planet, Kibu spaceport and arcology complex is built on a large semi-artificial atol island chain in the equatorial ocean, with the main spaceport tower complex on Kibukuth island.

Bohol: one of the main island chains in the southern oceans of Lemuria, it's the third largest land-based and colonial settlement on Lemuria, and the largest single non-Jasconian demimondaine surface settlement. Considered the capital and administrative center of the Island Union, and a significant point of contact between humans and demimondaine.

Jasconius: a large demimondaine floating city complex and independent city-state, inhabited primarily by deep ocean and surface demimondaine. Jasconius famously circumnavigates the planet on a slow, continuous basis to keep itself on the daylight side of Lemuria, with regular excursions to the following dawn-twilight zone. It's always morning in Jasconius. The city's heart is sixteen hundred Lemurian years old (equivalent of twelve hundred galactic standard years), making it the oldest continually-occupied demimondaine settlement on Lemuria's surface, a very popular tourist destination, and a primary human-demimondaine trading city.

Zaratan: a smaller floating city complex, located exclusively on the oceanic side of the planet, Zaratan is essentially a floating market city that travels along trade routes in the Island Union and several outlying micronations in more northerly waters. Largely inhabited by island demimondaine, and also considered an independent city-state, though it has strong trade and political ties with the Island Union.

Deep Mu: Largest and most powerful of the two known deep nations, located in the vast western abyssal plains between the Zealandia continent and the Island Union, Deep Mu is home almost exclusively to abyssal demimondaine who rarely come to the surface. Its capital is unknown to the surface, but there are rumours of a vast cave complex in the wall of the Zealandian continental shelf that serves as the main Muean city. Owing to large geothermal activity at several points on the sea floor, Deep Mu is the producer of around 60% of Zealandia's energy supply, which is a serious political bone of contention between Deep Mu and the surface.

Ys: an independant deep ocean city habitat and power station located just on the edge of the Zealandian continental shelf, Ys is the primary connection point between Lemurine and Deep Mu, and a major trading hub for deep water demimondaine in the continental oceans. It's one of the few places where humans, deep water and abyssal demimondaine intermingle.

Vaalbara: the other known deep nation, located in the colder northern waters to the east of Kerguelen. Vaalbara has two main cities, an abyssal city deep in the Cipactli Trench on the eastern edge of the territory, and the deep water city of Sedna on the Imap Umassoursa submarine plateau about four hundred miles off the coast of Kerguelen. Vaalbara is to an extent isolationist in relation to humans. The abyssal city again has almost no contact with humans, although Sedna does have a limited trade relationship with Kerguelen, mostly conducted via coastal settlements on Kerguelen itself. Surface fleets from Sedna also have some contact with Zaratan on the extreme north-westerly loop of Zaratan's circuit, and Jasconius makes a stopover above the city itself roughly every year-and-a-half when taking its northern circumnavigation route.

Interplanetary Issues:

Galactic Systems Alliance (GSA or the Alliance) - Interstellar Governing Body of which Lemuria is a member state.

Alliance Planetary Justice Commission (APJC) - Alliance justice body which investigates and regulates primarily intra-planetary/intra-system interspecies incidents from a supposedly neutral outside perspective. May be called in by system authorities and/or sent in by the GSA if reports are made to them of gross injustices in defiance of galactic law.

Story Idea:

Yes, all this was basically random worldbuilding for a single story, which wound up not being written, though bits of it still live in my brain. The original idea was for a mermaid vampire story, which morphed into a maritime sci-fi/noir/spy story in what became the city of Ys. It featured APJC agents being sent to investigate terrorist/industrial sabotage threats aimed at the Mu-Lemurine geothermal power conduits, and ending up getting involved with Yssian protectors in the form of an abyssal nightclub singer/secret agent/femme fatale and her human nightclub owner/handler/detective partner.

Serene, the abyssal singer, is strongly inspired by the black dragonfish and similar creatures on Earth, and is basically a shapeshifting black bioluminescent nightmare with glass-like bones and needle teeth who hunts in pitch darkness using self-generated infra-red light, on the grounds that if you're trying to sabotage a deep-water geo-thermal industrial complex, this is exactly the kind of nightmare you really, really don't want coming after you. She also uses the bioluminescence to perform underwater glass tank lightshows at the club ('Last Light', incidentally, for a variety of fun reasons) as a cover, as suggested by her human partner Eshe (who is also black, but in a human blazing-sun-and-light sort of way, as opposed to alien product-of-a-lightless-abyss type way). It takes the poor Apjacks a while (and some minor friendly fire) to get used to working with the Yssian ladies, but by the time the case has headed towards threatening citywide structural collapse and interspecies war levels, they've caught on well enough.

That was the idea, anyway, before I basically got distracted spending two days researching mythical island names, real and mythical sunken continents/cities and random sea deity/monster names in order to do some rather random worldbuilding, and then the story just sat there for five years doing nothing. (Yes, most of the place names are one of the above, with a couple of afterlives and ancient supercontinents thrown in - it does make in-universe sense as well, though, since they're all human names for places on an alien marine planet where native placenames are largely unpronounceable). Behold, one of the dangers of worldbuilding. Heh. Sometimes, you do too much worldbuilding, you never write the actual story.

It's an awful lot of fun, though ...

#worldbuilding #original fiction #science fiction #mermaids #detective noir #bioluminescent mermaids are always excellent #dangers of worldbuilding #namely: you do it too much and never write the story #but hey

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xanketori · 4 years

Text

Immortal

Wrote another thing based on this idea I had. Content warning for death, dead/dying bodies (both human and animal). Kinda morbid, descriptive stuff.

They say if you impress the gods, they will grant you the wishes of your dreams. Anything you can imagine, they will give. Power and wealth and fame, all within your grasp. Godhood, if you wanted.

But how does one impress the gods?

It isn’t impossible. You know that for sure. You’ve seen the proof.

You know their names. Heracles. Ariadne. Ganymede. Asclepius. Even Dionysus himself. They had been mortals once, just like you, prey to the course of nature, to the treacherous jaws of death.

And now they live forever.

You want to live forever, too.

It started out small. A fleeting thought making a pit stop in your consciousness before moving on to oblivion. You dismissed it as an idealistic dream, one to never see the light. You do not need the powers of the gods, you had said, whenever anyone asked. Humans can thrive just fine without them.

But the thought worms its way into your brain again when you stand waist-deep in front of your flooded home, your family’s dead bodies floating in the freezing water.

Their bloated, pale bodies follow you, ghosts that will haunt you forever.

And all you can do is stare, the last images of them burning in your mind.

You travel inland and try to forget.

When it appears next, you are kneeling in the sand, fire burning everywhere around you. A war plagues your land and all you can hear are the screams of death.

Smoke and ash fill the air and Something moves near you. You squint into the fog, tensing up, trying to determine friend from foe.

It is a person, their face marred with horrible burns and scars. They crawl on the floor, their lower half torn in pieces, blood seeping from their wounds and forming a warning trail in red behind them. They make eye contact with you and you freeze, your hand on your knife.

You do not recognize them.

Maybe you should.

Their voice is raspy as they reach a withered hand out to you, begging you to save them. Splatters of red drip from their mouth and you take a step back, involuntarily, your knife shaking in your head. You can smell it, the putrid stench of decaying flesh and the horrors of war.

You turn and run.

You do not want to die today.

It is months later, when you’ve settled far into the forest, with nothing but the trees and birds to keep you company, does the thought finally anchor itself within you.

You had thought you were free from the others--from the pain and suffering inflicted by mankind on itself.

But as the sun begins to set, you can smell it again, the smell of something rotting, of something wrong. The animals chitter noisily, uneasily, their ears flicking and heads adjusting, eyes blinking as they try to pinpoint the source but find none.

It takes days, but it cannot be stopped.

One by one, the animals near you start to die, their faces contorted in agony, their skin falling. Teeth rattle in loose gums and the heavy sounds of thudding bodies fill your every waking moment.

Even animals are not free from pain, you realize.

You make a resolve. You will not die. Not now, not ever. You will not be like the others, succumbing to the same torture.

You begin your quest in earnest.

The gods are not easy to find. They have never been easy to find. But you refuse to give up.

You travel the world far and wide, collecting hints and clues. Along the way, you help others whenever you can. Heroism will be rewarded, you think.

But the years pass, with not even a whisper of the answers you seek.

You scour the lowest valleys and dive into the depths of the deepest waters. You search the coldest tundras and climb the highest mountains, your breath coming out in gasps. You fight monsters and men alike, your strength growing at every turn, your reputation reaching the heights of legend.

And still--nothing.

One day, you hear rumors of a cave, supposedly housing the hearth of a minor, long-forgotten god.

The others jest and jeer, mocking you when you ask of it.

“Even if there is a god,” they say, “what powers could they possibly have? They have been lost to time, forgotten by all even among their brethren.”

The god may be dead, even.

You do not care. A chance, as small as it may be, is a chance you will still take. There is only one thing you fear. It is not disappointment.

You wrangle the location of the cave out of the others, and when the sun rises the next day, you hike towards it.

It is a dark cave, carved deep into the earth. You can see no end, the path twisting and turning, narrowing until you are on your knees.

You crawl forward. The air becomes stale, and your fire flickers, devouring the very air you breathe. You put it out and resume in darkness.

It feels like hours. Maybe days. You continue to crawl, your knees and elbows bleeding but refusing to stop. There is only one thing behind you--the scythe.

You will not take that.

You have no choice but to continue.

Finally, at long last, the path widens, and light somehow flickers in.

You blink, dazed.

In front of you is a small cavern, lit by glowing crystals. Something is in there, something expansive and omniscient.

You had sought the gods above.

But now you have found the gods below.

You cry.

Slow eyes blink at you, large and unyielding. They stare at you, studying you with such an unnerving gaze that you know with certainty that they can see everything. You are a small mouse within their grasp. You wipe your tears away in embarrassment.

“Are you...one of the gods?”

“I’ve been called that. A god.” A widespread grin reveals itself, flashing rows of sharp teeth. The crystals glimmer on the walls. “You can call me what you want.”

“You’re immortal? And you can grant wishes?”

“I’m not some pathetic genie,” the god scoffed. “But yes, I can do that.”

You stand up, dusting yourself off as much as you can, trying to make yourself presentable.

The eyes watch you.

“Will you grant me a wish, then?”

There is a low hum. “If that is what you want.”

“It is.” You are eager. You have been waiting for this moment your entire life.

“Very well. What do you want, little human?”

“Immortality.”

The word is released from your mouth like a spring, gushing out of you like water from a broken dam.

“Immortality? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you say. “I want to live forever, to never die or suffer or feel pain. I want to be like the gods, existing forever and ever.”

The crystals seem to glow brighter. “I will grant you your wish.”

There is a bright flash and you close your eyes against it, holding your hands out to block the brilliance as much as you can.

When you open your eyes again, you are back in front of the cave.

You test yourself, taking your knife and making a small cut.

You feel no pain.

Your dreams have been fulfilled.

Time passes and you find yourself with too much of it on your hands.

You travel the world, choosing to trek on foot rather than by vehicle. You visit all the remote villages, and see all the famous and dangerous sights. You venture where no one else dares, for you have nothing to lose.

And yet, even after so many years, you still have so much to see. The planet is huge, and you are glad you are immortal. You spend days laying on grass, watching the clouds go by. You spend months on humanitarian projects, rescuing lost children and building homes. You spend years living life the way you want to, without a single care in the world. Time does not run out for you after all.

The years tick by. You age more every day. Wrinkles start to form, and you think, I have reached my limit. I will stop aging soon, forever stuck in the middle ages. Or, maybe you will be like Gandalf, stopping somewhere further down the line.

It matters little to you. You will not die.

One day, you wake up, feeling weak. You are nearing your nineties and lately you have found it hard to breathe, to walk, to eat. You know you cannot be dying--you are immortal.

The problem plagues you, gnawing at your mind, wearing your sanity away.

You try to carry on as normal, but you find yourself unable to even get out of bed.

Your loved ones find you like that, weighed down on the bed, tears streaming down your face. Their concerned voices clammer around you but you can’t seem to hear the words they say.

They take you to the doctor, who gives you a series of checkups before settling you onto one of the patient beds.

The doctor’s eyes are solemn, watching you, the way the god did all those years ago.

Your verdict is handed to you.

Your body is dying.

You lay in bed, with only the beeping monitor for company. The minutes trickle by, slowly, the way sand in an hourglass does.

All you can do is watch, too weak to even move anymore.

Your loved ones stop by to visit you, but even that starts to fade away, until one day, the monitor stops completely.

The doctor comes in to check on you, and pronounces you dead.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell them you are still alive, but no words come. Your eyes see but they are no longer absorbing light.

Your family comes to see you one last time, a tearful, mournful affair.

You want to shout at them, to remind them that you are immortal, that you cannot die…

And yet...

It is eerily silent.

They place your body in a nice, fancy coffin, one purchased with the gold and wealth you had amassed over the years.

You laugh at the irony of it all, but there is no sound.

They bury you deep beneath the ground, covering you in layers of dirt, leaving you alone in the darkness.

You find yourself screaming into the abyss.

Time continues on.

Your body rots away, until there is nothing but bones, a skeleton in the dark.

And that, too, fades away. Your bones disintegrate, and yet you are still here.

Centuries pass, and one day light shines through.

A metal claw reveals itself, digging up the dirt one by one. Humans with hard plastic hats on their heads peer at you, muttering to themselves about the measurements of the land.

For the first time in a long time, you can see the sky again.

It’s a lovely light blue, dotted with dense clouds and streaks of yellow sunlight. You can hear the birds chirping and feel the breeze going by, though you have no physical body to sense with.

When the dirt is cleared, you can see, for the first time, just how many centuries have passed.

Where once was woodlands, now there is a foreign city in its place, filled with massive towers and bustling streets. You hear new sounds and smell new scents, and there is the chatter of a million voices.

You have been buried into the next age, concealed in silence as the generations went by.

The sun sets and then rises again. A new day.

You are still alive. Still conscious.

And you will be, for many more centuries to come. A presence, rooted to the spot. Conscious and sentient but unable to do anything.

Immortal.

This was the deal you made.

You should have been careful with your words.

#sometimes i just think about these things...#xan writes #xan's nonsense #tw death #tw dead bodies #ask to tag #02/15/21

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gothgirlmahi · 5 years

Text

All That’s Best (Prologue)

Dark!Steve x Reader

New Dark!Steve series I’ve been working on. Mostly planned out so there should be a few new chapters soon especially since I’m cooped up in the house.

Masterlist

Summary: Steve saves you from a HYDRA base, but who’s going to save you from him? Warnings: Noncon, violence, Steve is crazy and will get crazier.

“Exterior is clear. I think some of them probably went underground,” Tony voice came in through the earpiece.

“Working on the inside. Nat, you find anything?” Steve asked.0

“Nope,” she said, “I think someone might have tipped them off that we were coming.”

“Or they saw Iron Man coming for the base and scattered like roaches,” Sam said. He wasn’t wrong. The Avengers hadn’t taken the most stealthy approach in this mission, but there wasn’t much reason to. They knew the base didn’t have that many people in it and anywhere they could run from this vantage point would get them caught. Even the underground tunnels had to lead somewhere nearby so every escape route was practically a dead end.

Steve crept through the corridor silently, watching for any potential threats. Even with silent footfalls, the halls echoed and creaked of their own accord. As he turned a corner, he noticed a doorway up ahead, with a bit of light emanating from it. Getting closer he saw a handprint of fresh blood staining the wall.

He hurried his gait and peaked through the door, stopping at what he saw. A woman, tied to a chair, covered in blood. Your head popped up when you heard him enter the room.

“Help,” you begged silently. Your head sported a bloody wound, oozing steadily through your hair and down your neck. Your body was covered with other signs of struggle, ripped clothes and fast forming bruises.

“I found someone,�� Steve said into the mic, “give me a minute.”

He approached you carefully.

“Are you okay?” he asked and felt stupid. Of course you weren’t okay. You were going to bleed to death if he didn’t get you out of there.

“They did this to me. I was just...I don’t know what’s going on. Please help me.” Steve ran to untie you and you nearly collapsed in his arms. The metallic smell of your blood hit the air and it smeared against his suit as he held you. Steve grabbed you firmly but gently and headed towards to quinjet.

“Injured civilian. Bringing her out now. She needs immediate medical attention.”

“Why was she there?” Tony asked.

“Maybe I’ll ask her when she’s not about to pass out.”

“Fair enough.”

“The place is empty,” Nat said. Steve could hear her on the other end of the hallway he was running through. That must mean they had cleared the whole base.

Steve looked down and sighed. You were quickly losing consciousness as he sprinted to the plane. When he was in, Banner looked you over and asked Steve to set you down.

Clint and Natasha ran in next, followed soon by Sam and Wanda.

“You guys head back, Rhodey and I are gonna stay and make sure everybody’s gone,” Tony said.

Natasha jumped in the pilot’s seat and began to fly.

Steve looked at you and frowned. You looked so pitiful, barely conscious and so confused about what was going on. Your head wound was horrendous and he had to wonder what exactly you were hit with. Banner inspected the wound for a bit and started applying pressure.

“I don’t think she’s gonna die, but the sooner we get back the better.”

“ETA fifteen minutes.”

They had been staying at a temporary location while they staked out the HYDRA base. There was medical personnel on site and people that could help you. Banner had given you something to stabilize your condition and it sent you right to sleep. Steve sighed, looking at you. It was a shame that someone like you was treated like that.

You were too...perfect. Everything about you, the curve of your lips, the melodic tones of your voice even as you cried for help. Like an angel. He didn’t have time to think on it too long as they were quickly approaching their landing point. As soon as they hit the ground, he would have you seen to in the med bay. Then he could see about getting you home to wherever you were from.

You were in the hospital for a few days. Recovering. The team was still trying to wrap up any loose ends which kept them near the base and near the hospital you were in. Steve came to visit you everyday, bringing flowers or candy or any other thing you mentioned. He found out that you lived in New York. You were supposed to be released soon so he told you not to waste an airplane ticket when you could catch a ride back with the team.

Talking to you made him only hate HYDRA more. They were really the scum of the earth. They had taken you, a young woman with no family and no one to take care of her. No one to look for her when she went missing. Someone who wouldn’t be missed. Your parents had died when you were a teenager which left you mostly fending for yourself. Then HYDRA struck.

Now that you were out of the hospital and back in New York, Steve was conflicted. He couldn’t just let you go home alone. It wouldn’t be right. The streets were too dangerous and you were possibly injured or even traumatized from your experience. He would make sure you got home safe and check in later. Follow you and watch until you got securely in your apartment. Just so you had someone on the planet actually checking on you.It was his job to protect people and make them feel safe. And you had been so grateful when you woke up in the hospital. You thanked him at least eight times and cried and hugged him. Your hugs were warm, loving, welcoming to him. He wouldn’t mind another one. He wouldn’t mind a lot of things coming from you.

It didn’t help that you were so pretty. More than just easy on the eyes. Gorgeous really. Like a personally commissioned sculpture, the ideal of beauty. Aphrodite in human form.Steve had become infatuated with you and he knew it wasn’t to a normal degree. He started following you more often until it became an everyday thing. There wasn’t any woman who ever managed to hold his interest like this, not even Peggy. Maybe it was the dependence you had on him. He had fended off a few unsavory encounters you had never been wiser to. Stayed in the shadows to protect you. Peggy had never needed him in that way. She was always well enough to see to her own safety but the idea of you needing him set him off in a mission to protect you. Because he loved you.

He had been following you for weeks now. Watching as you went to work, came home, went about your routine. You were his obsession. Thoughts of you filled his waking and sleeping mind. But there was a problem. He knew he couldn’t be there all the time. Couldn’t protect you 24/7. Even though he saw himself as your personal hero, he was still Captain America and had to attend to his business. What would he do when the team needed him? He was starting to consider his options.

It was a shame really. And your apartment wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of safety. Once he watched a man sneak in the key card locked door behind one of your careless neighbors. He hadn’t heard of anything bad happening after the incident but the act filled him with dread. What if he hadn’t been there to watch? What if that man had ill intentions for you? His poor, helpless sweetheart. You had already been made a victim once and he didn’t want to see it happen again. Things had to change.

He asked you out on a whim although he was sure you’d say yes. When he wasn’t secretly following you, he did call you to catch up occasionally. You were always so eager to talk to him, to tell him about your day and to listen to him detail his own. When he called you, you sounded excited. His plans were to take you to a new gallery that had opened up and go from there. Both of you could appreciate good art so he knew it would be a perfect date. Maybe dinner and a movie after. God, he wanted to give you everything.

The date came and went without a hitch. You both enjoyed the gallery and talked about it at length as he drove you to the movies. cracking jokes and having a good time along the way. You saw some generic action flick but Steve wasn’t so interested in that. He was interested in you. Interested in your smile, interested in that tight black dress you were wearing, the swell of your breasts, and whatever was awaiting him between your gorgeous thighs...

...No.

He could wait.

He would wait. He had to.

Dinner went similarly, talking about the movie and the art you saw. You were so animated when you talked, it was absolutely enthralling. The way you described things, the jokes you told, Steve was sure you couldn’t get anymore perfect. And he was sure he was in love with you.

And that was when he knew exactly what he had to do.

..............

Masterlist // Chapter One

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark fic #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #dark marvel #dark steve x reader

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freedmfighter · 3 years

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dossier — JET.

FULL NAME. jet MEANING. named after the gemstone, it is known as a highly prized magical and protective stone, meant to guide those on their journeys and protect against evil. NICKNAME. n/a GENDER. cis male. ETHNICITY. earth kingdom HEIGHT. 5′11″ AGE. 16/17 ( verse dependent ). ZODIAC. aries ( passionate, motivated, and confident leader / impulsive, temperamental, daring ; element : fire. ; ruling planet : mars. ) SPOKEN LANGUAGES. verse-dependent ; multilingual .

physical characteristics !

HAIR COLOR. dark brown, almost black in some shades EYE COLOR. a dark hazel, perceived as brown unless in the right light they have hunts of a forest green SKIN TONE. warm brown BODY TYPE. between ectomorph and mesomorph ; has the body of a martial artist ACCENT. / VOICE. confident, somewhat drawling , someone who when speaking everyone listens to despite what volume he’s using. DOMINANT HAND. ambidextrous POSTURE. slightly hunched but because everyones so fucking short, in all fairness. THE WAY HE CHOOSES TO SIT IS ON HIM, THOUGH. he has a relatively loose and confident stance, often putting his hand on his hip SCARS. beneath his clothes, he is actually branded with several areas of scar tissue from sword fights and burn marks -- significantly ones that wrap around his ankle when he couldn’t climb a tree fast enough and on his shoulders and upper-arms. he also has scars ( undetermined location ) from having to be self-taught with his lethally sharp hooked swords. TATTOOS. eventually he does in modern verse via stick-and-poke... MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). his eyebrows are seemingly always in an arched state, he’s significantly taller than a lot of his company, and he has very fluffy/shaggy dark hair. he also usually is chewing on wheatgrass.

background !

HOMETOWN. a small earth kingdom village somewhere near gaipan MANNER OF BIRTH. natural. FIRST WORDS. undetermined ; debating on “ma” ( which daiyu was really happy about ) or “jet” ( which was a response to them saying ‘your name is jet’ , and him echoing that. ) alternatively, it’d be funny if it was something he wasn’t supposed to repeat, like a curse word. SIBLINGS. n/a, but he thinks of the freedom fighters as his siblings. PARENTS. daiyu ( birth-mother, deceased ). qingling ( non-biological mother, deceased ). PARENT INVOLVEMENT. raised by two mothers until the age of eight years old when they were murdered ; his biological father wasn’t really in the picture, but I’m still weighing between whether he was merely a donor or someone daiyu was in a relationship with but went off and was killed in war, and qingling stepped in the picture to originally help but in the process they fell in love with each other ; up until his parents deaths, they were extremely loving and protective of him, attempting to balance between letting him have fun and educating him in very blunt means on the horrors unraveling around them. jet loved both of them equally, and mourned them intensely. in how he raises the freedom fighters and orphans he takes in, he mirrors a lot of their mannerisms and keeps their legacy alive in that way. ( hot take: they would be very proud of who he became, though greatly saddened by the cause for it. )

OCCUPATION. social activist, public speaker, and founder of post-war orphanages and shelters. CURRENT RESIDENCE. changes depending on his travels, but he likes to stay in the earth kingdom FINANCIAL STATUS. born in a respectable “middle-class” home turned destitute CRIMINAL RECORD. theft, aggravated assault with a weapon, attempted murder, acts of terrorism, murder ( though out of self-defense or legal in war-setting facing hostilities ) VICES. anger, arrogance, swearing, wrath

relationships !

CLOSE FRIENDS. all his freedom fights <3 , eventually he likes to consider aang a close friend with hopes for the rest of the group. RELATIONSHIP STATUS. single. SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. demi/biromantic. LOVE LANGUAGE. physical touch & acts of service.& words of affirmation RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. jet is fairly unexperienced regarding romantic relationships as his priorities have been directed towards survival and familial bonds ; as a resort of this, he often makes exceptions towards romantic interests by bridging the familiar with the new, picking partners that can reflect what traits he praises himself for: goal-oriented, seeking justice, talented, can hold their own, and come with flaws. he is very affectionate when having romantic attraction and tries to find ways to hold their hand or face or shoulders. he does have jealous tendencies based off fear of loss, but over-all those of romantic interest are those he has deep admiration for and trusts them. he will only be protective if he feels like he needs to step in, which in case he doesn’t hesitate. seeing as he’s NEW to relationships, he will go about having conversations about what they like and don’t like, what they do and don’t want him to do. he’s big on communication. it should, however, be noted he has slight manipulation tendencies/tactics if he feels he has to prioritize something over the relationship.

miscellaneous !

THEME SONG. Landslide - Fleetwood Mac ( especially because of this video ) / You’ve Got to Run ( Spirit of the Wind ) - Buffy Sainte-Marie / Take Back the Power - The Interrupters HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. practicing his swordsmanship, sparing, climbing as high as he can and seeing how fast he can either get down, or helping others pass the time by inventing games. On the occasion when he wants alone-time, he spends time trying to mimic bird-calls. MENTAL ILLNESSES. severe case of post-traumatic stress syndrome ( ft. insomnia, constant attempt to re-live/re-enact trauma, violent flashbacks, constant vigilance, angry outbursts, intense distress at real or symbolic reminders of the trauma. ), possible borderline personality disorder ( seeking an explanation for such a black/white mentality , impulse, and rage that might not stem from PTSD, but unsure if i’m just projecting. ) PHYSICAL ILLNESSES. due to PTSD, his body suffers from a state of autonomic hyperarousal with hypervigilance, an enhanced startle reaction, and insomnia ; I’m still working out the lasting effects from the lake laogai incident LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. a balance, but slight leaning towards right brain for creativity and intuition. PHOBIAS. I would say he has pyrophobia, but he isn’t afraid of fire so much as the people who weaponize it ; and even then, he’s less scared of fire-nation, rather than scared of what they’re capable of. I wouldn’t put that under a phobia, as its reasonable or an attribute to his PTSD symptoms. SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. extremely high to the point he almost has a god-complex and I debate if he has narcissistic personality disorder ; he is unbothered by criticism and is extremely self-assure and confident in everything he does. VULNERABILITIES. it is very easy to manipulate jet by triggering his ptsd ; he also has lasting effects from the dai li brainwashing him to the point the phrase “the earth king has invited you to lake laogai” still triggers him, though not to the extremity aang had witnessed, as jet was capable of breaking out of it once and had a short-lived experienced with the dai li. ( HEADCANON UNDER CONSTRUCTION ) ; he is also extremely loyal to his friends and loved ones to a point he’ll do anything to keep them safe ( don’t mistake this as cooperation with the enemy, rather I will kill anything that stands in the way of their safety without hesitation )

TAGGED BY. stole from @burnbanished TAGGING. YOU?

#ⅱ. › STUDY.#ⅴ. › HEADCANON.

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duhragonball · 3 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (156/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before 66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[1 December Age 893, Earth.]

Throughout the night, Trunks had been exploring the simulated universe in the popular arcade game Super Dragon Ball Heroes. To the Earthlings of the 9th Century, it was just a video game about famous warriors and battles from history, but it was in fact a secret project backed by the Time Patrol. The game world in SDBH was a scale model of the actual universe, based upon the Scroll of Eternity itself. This provided a unique gaming experience for the unsuspecting civilians, but it also allowed Time Patrollers like Trunks to conduct research and interact with historical events without altering history. His main objective to was to learn more about his new partner, Luffa. So far, he had spoken to several Saiyans across time and space, and each answer he found seemed to raise a new question.

At the Hero Lab, where the SDBH game was programmed and maintained, Trunks pondered these questions over takeout food. Dr. Leggings had cleared off her desk for the plates and napkins. Her assistant, a girl named Anne, was fussing over the bags of food, determined to make sure everyone’s order was accounted for and properly distributed. No one asked her to do this, but she was the type who couldn’t relax otherwise. She still complained about it, but Trunks knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Nearby, Beat and Note had rolled their own chairs to face one another, and they each propped their feet up on the edge of the other's seat. He had recruited them for help on a case when they were younger, and it was strange to see them as teenagers. He wondered if there was something more than friendship developing between them, or if they themselves were aware of it, but it seemed undignified to ask, so he let it go. There were more important things to consider anyway.

"The main job's been accomplished, at least," Trunks said after he swallowed a bite of eggroll. "I know where Camelia's key planets are located, and our historians can probably fill in a more complete map of the galaxy from that era. Then we can work with Luffa to figure out the correct date and location she came from."

"You don't sound very satisfied with that, Master," Note said as she fished out a piece of shrimp from her takeout box and fed it to Beat.

"I'm not," Trunks said. "We thought Luffa might be from a distant civilization, but one in the present day. Now, it's starting to look like she's from our galaxy, but eleven centuries in the past. Maybe twelve. The Rehval that I spoke with was the third Saiyan King with that name. The one Luffa mentioned may have been his father or grandfather."

"Why is that bad, Trunks?" Beat asked. He found a piece of pork in his box and passed it from his chopsticks to Note's chopsticks. "I mean, so what if she’s from twelve centuries in the past? You guys are the Time Patrol, after all. If anyone can send her home, you can."

"It's not that we can't send her back," Beat, " Trunks said. "The problem is that I'm not so sure we should. From the start, I just assumed Luffa was from the present time, or close to it. Without realizing it, I've shown Luffa things that will happen in her distant future. To us, it's the past, but if we send her back with that knowledge, she could change the course of history."

"Would she?" Note asked. "I mean, I'm sure she's an honorable person, or Shenron wouldn't have chosen her as your ally, Master. And now that she's seen the dangers involved with time anomalies, I'm sure she'd never tell anyone what she learned about our era."

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid," said Dr. Leggings. She was chewing on a bone from her order of spare ribs, and Trunks couldn't help but appreciate a very faint resemblance she had to his father. Leggings looked a lot more like his mother, particularly with the way she wore her green hair in a ponytail. She was no warrior, but there were definite hints of Saiyan to her. He liked this. In his own timeline, Trunks was an only child, and the last of his father's people. It was comforting to spend time in places like Hero Town and Toki Toki City, where he had an extended family of sorts, no matter how distant.

"What do you mean, doctor?" Note asked.

"We've seen how even minor changes in the past can cause major changes in the present," Leggings said. "The game world makes it easy to see, because we can jump from one time period to another very quickly, and we can reset those changes as easily as refreshing a computer. It's not just a matter of winning a battle you were supposed to lose, or telling secrets that you aren't supposed to know about. Luffa might change history without even realizing she's done it."

"She's right," Trunks said. "When I first went back to the past, I tried to be careful not to make any unwanted changes. I only wanted to warn Goku about the Cyborgs and give him the medicine for the heart virus. But somehow he got sick about six months later than I expected. I still have no idea why that happened. My guess is that he was training for the Cyborgs, so he must have been in a different place than he was in my timeline, so he wasn't infected under the same circumstances."

"You think Luffa might do something differently, now that she knows what's going to happen to the Saiyans?" Beat asked.

"She might," Trunks said. "Luffa hates King Rehval, and now that I've met the guy, I can't say I blame her. If I understand correctly, there's a direct throughline connecting Rehval's policies with the class system used by my grandfather on Planet Vegeta. So she might blame Rehval for the downfall of the Saiyan race, and try to take revenge. For that matter, she knows about the Dragon Balls on Namek. She might be tempted to use them in the past, to try to make wishes to prevent some of the terrible things she's seen in the future."

"That'd be good, wouldn't it?" Beat asked.

"Not for you, it wouldn't," Note said in a scolding tone. "Son Goku is your ancestor, isn't he? If the history of the Saiyans changes too much, then they might never send Goku to Earth, and you would never be born."

"Oh, right," Beat said. "Maybe Luffa should stay in Toki Toki City, then."

"And that could have consequences too," Trunks said. "Luffa might still play a role in history, however small. Shenron may have only brought her to us because he knew the Time Patrol would eventually put her back. But there's also the matter of her power level..."

"Power?" Anne asked. She had already finished her meal and was busily cleaning up the discarded cartons and wrappers. "Don't tell me that's a problem on top of everything else!"

"Yup, I'm afraid so, Anne," Trunks said. "Luffa's done well on her missions, but she's nowhere near as powerful as what I had expected. Now that I know what time period she's from, that makes more sense. King Rehval told me he was the strongest Saiyan of his era, and he's a lot stronger than Luffa, but he wouldn't stand a chance against the kinds of enemies I've had to fight. Luffa defeated the Ginyu Force, and Rehval might have handled them more easily but that's about all I could expect from either of them."

"That's nothing you can't fix, Master!" Note said. "I'm sure you can train Luffa just as well as you trained us!"

"I appreciate your confidence, Note," Trunks said, "but Luffa's not exactly what I'd call 'teachable'. Besides, she seems to have improved dramatically on her own. Even she doesn't understand how she's doing it, but she may catch up before too long. But if she returns to her own time with all that extra strength, then that could mess up history too. And if she has to remain with us, then I'm not sure she'll be any good on future missions."

"Why not?" Beat asked. "She's sure to get stronger."

"I thought so too, but maybe I've been taking that for granted," Trunks said. "I'm used to dealing with Saiyans descended from Son Goku, or from my own family. Goku and Vegeta were extraordinary fighters, even among Saiyans, but Luffa could be... Well, there's no gentle way to put this. She might not have the same potential."

"You're not going to just fire her, are you?" Note asked.

"Of course not," Trunks said. "If we can't send her home, I'm sure we can find a place for her in the Time Patrol. But we can't risk sending her on certain missions. Towa and Mira are dangerous, and if I'm right, their raids on history's warriors are only going to get bolder. Luffa could find herself in deep waters with no one to help her. Shenron may have granted my wish, and maybe she is the best person for the job, but that doesn't mean I can gamble with her life. I need more information before she goes back into the field."

"I'm sure whatever happens, it'll all work out, Trunks," Beat said.

"You always say stuff like that," Note groaned.

"Well, I'm right, aren't I?" Beat shrugged. "Well, most of the time, anyway."

"This has been fun, but I should probably get moving," Trunks said. "I need to report my findings to the Time Patrol, and maybe the Supreme Kai of Time has a fresh lead on Towa."

"You have to leave already?" Beat asked. "But it feels like you just got here!"

"Yeah, it was beginning to feel like the old days," Note said.

"I've missed you guys too," Trunks said. He stood up and brushed loose grains of rice from his pants. "You've grown up a lot while I've been away. You too, Anne."

"I guess it's kind of childish how I keep calling you, 'Master'," Note said. "Force of habit, I suppose."

"You're welcome to call me 'Trunks' if you want, Note. But to be honest, it reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to call Gohan 'Master', back when he trained me to fight the Cyborgs. He meant a lot to me. Hearing you say it... It's a good feeling."

"I'll keep the Hero Switches ready in case you come back," Leggings said. "You'll probably need to do some follow-up work to pin down an exact time for Luffa."

"Good call," Trunks said as he slung his sword over his shoulder. "I'll probably have to bring her with me. I'll see if I can get her to make some more of that lasagna she made for us the other day."

"Lasagna?" Beat asked. But Trunks vanished before he could get an answer.

*******

[4 March, Age 850. Toki Toki City.]

Luffa felt ridiculous doing this, but she had no other ideas for how to handle the situation. She knew the way from her apartment to the Time Nest, and the Time Vault was unlocked and unguarded, but she had no idea what to do on her own. Trunks had always contacted her whenever she was needed, and he always had the Scroll ready to send her on her next mission. Without him, it seemed that the Time Vault was a useless building with a tree sticking out of the roof. And so, her only way forward was the Supreme Kai of Time, who lived in a modest capsule house in the Time Nest, next door to the Time Vault. Luffa felt awkward simply entering the house, and so she went back to her apartment and baked a cake. That wouldn't make things less awkward for her, but at least there would be something to eat during her visit.

"Luffa, Hi!" Chronoa said as she answered the knock on her door. "Ooh, what's that? It smells good."

"Uh, I got in a mood, so I made some cake," Luffa said, in a failed attempt to sound nonchalant. "And I thought I should check and see if you and Trunks had any update on the search."

"Afraid not," Chronoa said. "But perfect timing on the cake. I just put on a pot of tea. Come on in!"

The interior of Chronoa's house was littered with technological gizmos. There were entire jet engines laying around the Time Nest, and it seemed that this was because those larger objects were the only ones that wouldn't fit inside. Chronoa tossed several of them off one of the couch cushions and gestured for Luffa to take a seat.

"I'm glad you finally came over," Chronoa said. "I was worried that you might be having trouble fitting in with the Time Patrol."

"It's uh... it's not so bad," Luffa said. "My roommate is kind of weird, but we get along well enough. I've met a few people here."

"They're all a very special bunch of people," Chronoa said. "I haven't been able to get to know them all as well as I'd like to, but they've helped me out a lot. That goes for you too, Luffa."

"Listen, uh... I think I owe you an apology," Luffa said. "I was in a pretty bad place right before I ended up here, and... well, I might have taken out some of my frustrations on you and your staff."

"You've had to adjust to a lot of changes very quickly, Luffa," Chronoa said. "And we didn't exactly give you a choice about coming here. You're entitled to get frustrated with us."

"Thanks, but... I'm a mercenary," Luffa said. "Well, I used to be. My parents always taught me how important it was to maintain a professional discipline around the clients. I don't think I've lived up to my own standards."

"I don't think of the other Time Patrollers as mercenaries, Luffa," Chronoa said. "We're a team, and we're friends. At least, I'd like to think of you as a friend."

"Yeah, I guess so," Luffa said. "I... Can I ask you something?"

"Sure!"

"You're a god, aren't you? A god of time."

"That's right."

"Don't you already know how all of this turns out?"

Chronoa chuckled as she sipped her tea.

"Did I say something wrong?" Luffa asked.

"No, I get that a lot, actually," Chronoa said. "The short answer is: no, I don't know the future. Not in the way you're thinking of. I watch over time, and maintain the flow of time. When it's necessary, I correct problems in that flow. But I don't make time, or control it."

"It's just... I'm kind of anxious to get back on the trail of those demons," Luffa said. "And we've been waiting for them to make their next move, and it occurred to me that it doesn't make much sense that we have to wait. You could jump ahead to the moment when they've already made their play."

"Well, now that's something I could do," Chronoa said. I can travel to the future and find out when the next mission happens. I could even take you with me so you wouldn't have to wait."

"You can?" Luffa said.

"Oh yeah!" Chronoa said. "I can do a lot of things. But I shouldn't do it, so I won't."

"Oh."

"It's not an arbitrary rule, either," Chronoa said. "Most Supreme Kais are only permitted to travel forward through time, and only to observe future events. They can't interfere, so they have to limit their use of that power. With me, the problem is that if I skip around too much, I run the risk of upsetting the balance of my own timeline. Things have to proceed in order. That's what time is all about."

"I guess that makes sense," Luffa said. "Honestly, I had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy, or you would have already done it. But I had to ask."

"You’re right, it’s not that easy. In fact, it's part of the reason I established the Time Patrol," Chronoa said. "For millions of years, keeping watch over the flow of time was pretty simple. I just had to keep Tokitoki fed and watered, give him plenty of enrichment. But as the universe grows older, it becomes more complex. Once, there was no Supreme Kai of Time. We didn't even need one. But then we did, and now we've reached a point where I need a whole staff to help maintain things. If I could just jump back and forth in time any way I wanted, maybe I could do the whole thing alone. But it’s more satisfying this way, with all of you.”

"Why mortals? Why not get other Kais to do this work?" Luffa asked.

"Because there aren't enough of us, for one thing," Chronoa said. "We come from a place called the 'World Core'. There aren't many Core People, and few of us ever achieve the rank of Kai. Fewer still ascend to the status of Grand Kai, and even fewer make it to Supreme Kai. There used to be seven Supreme Kais in this universe, including me. These days, there's only three."

"Is three enough?" Luffa asked.

"For now, it'll have to be," Chronoa said. "Besides, I've found that mortals are very dedicated and resourceful. To say nothing of all the technology they produce..."

She reached for an end table and picked up a machine that looked vaguely like a can opener combined with an alarm clock. Luffa expected her to use the device, but instead Chronoa simply admired its surfaces.

"So what's all this stuff for, anyway?" Luffa asked, gesturing to the assortment of similar gadgets that lay in every direction.

"Nothing in particular," Chronoa said. "I just find their designs fascinating. The electronics, the cogwheels, the little blinking lights. It's helpful for contemplating the nature of time."

"If you say so," Luffa said.

"Without time, everything would happen all at once," Chronoa explained. "Birth, death, creation, destruction, none of that would mean anything without the passage of time to separate those moments. The oven you used to bake this cake. Without time, there would be no need for it. Cooking would be meaningless. You can't preheat an oven or leave a cake inside for seven hours, not when there's no hours."

"S-seven hours?" Luffa asked, but Chronoa paid no mind.

"Mixing the ingredients would be pointless, too. Even the pan you put it in, it would be unnecessary, because there could be no cause or effect. There could be no hunger, because there would be no time for you to become hungry."

"That's why you like these tools, then?" Luffa asked. "Their functions remind you of the flow of time?"

"Yes, that's one way of looking at it," Chronoa said. She picked up another object that had a handle connected to a transparent dome on wheels. Inside the dome were several colorful plastic balls, which bounced around inside as Chronoa pushed it along the floor.

"What does that thing do?" Luffa asked.

"Oh, this is just a child's toy," Chronoa said. "Same idea though."

"Okay..." Luffa decided this was as good a time as any to serve the cake. It was yellow with chocolate frosting, a recipe which suited her aesthetics, though she had no idea what flavor “yellow” was supposed to be. She wondered if “yellow” was a kind of fruit, like the oranges used to make the juice she had discovered while shopping.

"Very impressive," Chronoa said as she took a bite. "You must have turned the oven up to full power for this."

"Uh, not exactly," Luffa said nervously. She was beginning to get the impression that Chronoa had no idea how cooking worked. "Jayncho found a recipe, and they had everything I needed in the Industrial District. I've been using my downtime to get a handle on Earth cuisine."

"That's great! You know... when we figure out how to get you home, Luffa, you wouldn't have to stay there. You could come back for missions."

"Huh?"

"We have a lot of Patrollers who still live on Earth, in their own native eras. Mostly ranging from Age 850 to 1050, but there are a few exceptions, like Trunks."

"Well, that's nice and all," Luffa said, "but I don't know that it would work for me..."

"Do you have any family?"

Luffa hesitated before answering. "No," she said. "It's just me." To explain further would require her to reveal that she knew she was from the distant past, and she wasn't ready to divulge that just yet. She wasn't sure she ever would be. But somehow, sitting in Chronoa's home, sharing snacks with her while they watched the view outside her window, Luffa felt like she could trust her.

She just wouldn't trust her today. Not yet. Like Chronoa had said, these things had to happen in the proper order.

"Have you heard of ‘Providence,’ Chronoa?" Luffa asked.

"I know the term, if that's what you mean." she said with her mouth full.

"My... a friend of mine, she believed in a divine plan. I just wondered if you, or one of the other Kais, had any connection to that."

"Are you religious yourself, Luffa?"

"Not really. But I've known people who were. You wouldn't know a god with nine eyes, by any chance, would you?"

"No, I can't say that I do," Chronoa said.

"What about Beerus?"

"Oh, well that's different," Chronoa said. "You see-- Wait, what was that?"

She put her plate on the coffee table and stood up, as though looking for something beyond the walls of her house.

"What is it?" Luffa asked. Her own senses picked up nothing out of the ordinary.

"Something's wrong," Chronoa said. "We need to go to the Time Vault."

"Is it Towa and Mira?" Luffa asked.

"I'm not sure," Chronoa said, “but I think it could be."

Luffa punched her right hand with her left as she stood up from the sofa. At last, it seemed like her waiting was over.

*******

[24 December, Age 762. Planet Namek.]

The Namekian Dragon Balls were ordinary stones. Two wishes had been granted, but they petrified upon the death of their creator, Guru. When Frieza arrived to discover this predicament, he was furious. So furious, that he wasted no time in destroying the objects of his wrath. Within minutes, Krillin, Vegeta, and the Namekian child, Dende, were all dead. Piccolo, newly resurrected by the Dragon Balls, joined the battle, but far too later to do any good. Gohan was next, and then the only one left was Goku.

"Who... are you?" Frieza asked, as Goku cradled his dead son in his arms. "Never mind. I don't need to know."

Goku followed the others soon after.

*******

[4 March, Age 850. Toki Toki City.]

"It has to be Towa," Chronoa said. She had the Scroll of Eternity unfurled on the great octagonal table in the Time Vault. Luffa watched over her shoulder, while Tokitoki flapped his wings and hooted overhead.

"This looks like the same day as the Ginyu Force battle I was just in," Luffa said.

"It is," Chronoa said. "This new temporal change takes place thirty-seven minutes after you left. Towa must have decided it was the last place we would expect her to strike. I didn't think she was prepared to try her energy stealing techniques on someone as powerful as Frieza."

Luffa had never actually seen Frieza before. Until now, she had only heard about him. During her previous mission, the Ginyu Force and Vegeta had spoken of him as being present on Namek, but occupied elsewhere. Before that, she had heard about Frieza's conquest and destruction of the Saiyan homeworld from the Toki Toki City historian, Dewar. Dewar had said that Frieza was a clansman of his own species, and now that Luffa could see Frieza in the mystical images generated by the Scroll, she could see the resemblance. Mostly, Frieza had purple colorations wherever Dewar had blue, and Frieza didn't bother wearing clothes. He was a white-skinned, muscular humanoid with no hair and three-toed feet. A long, thick tail waved behind him. The purple aura from Towa's magic seemed to suit his cruel, indifferent expression.

"Looks like it's the same story as before," Luffa said. "Frieza got a power boost and he overwhelmed these guys too quickly, so I'll have to step in and balance the scales."

"It's not that simple," Chronoa warned. "Frieza is far more powerful than anyone you've faced so far."

"He can't swap bodies like Captain Ginyu, can he?" Luffa asked.

"No, but--"

"Well then, this should be a lot more straightforward," Luffa said, She held up her hands and began cracking her knuckles.

"Wait," Chronoa said. "Luffa, I really think we should hold off on this until Trunks gets back."

"What for?" Luffa asked. "I'm the one who has to go on these missions, and I'm ready right now. With any luck, those miserable demons will still be there, and I can pick up where I left off."

"You don't know what you're dealing with, Luffa," Chronoa warned. "Every time you've come back from these missions, you've been badly hurt. Fighting Frieza is one thing. If he hurts you, you can be automatically recalled to the Time Nest before you die. But if Towa decides to step in, that might not work. She's already threatened you, and there's a lot we don't know about her temporal manipulation abilities."

"Then it's time we found out," Luffa insisted. "I don't know what kind of Saiyans you have working for you in the Time Patrol, but I'm the kind that doesn't back down from a challenge. I think your pet Dragon noticed that, and maybe that's why he brought me here to help you out."

"There's more at stake here than whatever chip you have on your shoulder, Luffa," Chronoa said. "I can tell you're out to prove something. I don't know what, but I won't risk your life like this."

"And what happens if they try to alter history somewhere else while we're waiting around?" Luffa asked. "We need to address this sooner rather than later. And no matter what we do, it's going to be me who ends up going. You know I'm right, Supreme Kai of Time. I wouldn't be here if I weren't."

Chronoa regarded her for a moment, then looked back at the Scroll. "All right, we'll try it your way," she said. "But I'll be watching, and at the first sign of trouble, I'm pulling you out of there."

"Thanks," Luffa said. "I was thinking about making a grab for the Scroll, but I didn’t want to upset you. I've never fought a god before, and I didn't want to make things awkward between us.”

"Uh... sure. Well, promise me that you’ll keep that in mind if I have to bring you back from the mission early," Chronoa said. "If you can't handle Frieza, then you definitely don't need to be picking fights with me."

Luffa smiled as she picked up the Scroll, and then she was gone.

NEXT: 「F」

#dragon ball #fanfiction #lssjluffafic #luffa #trunks #chronoa #note #beat #anne #dr leggings #toki toki city #earth #namek

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risingsouls · 3 years

Text

Recruited: Chapter 15

[A little slower this chapter with a nice little time skip and basically setting up the traumatic experience that Namek is going to be for everyone involved! Fun to write though because we’re ankle deep in more canon shit, so I get to play around and figure out how Nabs is fitting into it.

Oh, and it does get a little graphic and murdery. Which isn’t surprising if you’ve seen the series.

Find the full story and other junk I’ve written over here!]

Nabooru

The next year challenged Nabooru's sheer force of will to live and not lose her composure. Made her question if the deal with Frieza between him and the Gerudo would suffer if her life ended. Never in her life had she felt so devalued and miniscule, a complete joke. Outside of an occasional job tagging along with Zarbon and Dodoria once in a great while, Frieza kept her confined to his side, performing menial and degrading tasks for him or around the ship. Her status as a warrior had become almost completely null and void until he decided those skills were worthwhile. Otherwise, outside of training which became the best part of her days despite the beatings she endured for quite some time, she deeply felt the truth of his asinine reasons for promoting her. A mere bauble meant to make his entourage more aesthetically pleasing. None of her talents mattered.

The rare occasions in which she had a moment of privacy that coincided with Nappa's reports of his and Vegeta's missions offered small reprieve from the drudgery and humiliation of the position she occupied. Even if Nappa did not trust her as he led her to suspect that day, he spoke with her as if nothing happened, pressing her for the dirt on her new cohorts and telling her stories about their adventures. The latter bittersweet in its own way; while she did considerably less killing with less missions tossed her way, she missed fighting in the field at the very least. With Zarbon, Dodoria, and her new found power, the few missions she helped them with never lasted a full day before they returned to the ship. She missed Nappa and Vegeta. She missed Raditz who she couldn't even speak with any more.

Mourning Raditz had been reserved almost solely to the shower she took after her conversation with the Saiyans. In truth, she wished she had requested she accompany him or perhaps fought the decision to let him go in the first place. But Vegeta would have refused to let her for his own selfish needs as well as pointing out that the planet should be full of weaklings and only Raditz would be needed to retrieve his brother. Which was why fighting it the other way would have made her look silly as well. She understood death circulated their job and warrior status like a starved vulture, had known such from a very young age, before Frieza, before the gradual ripping of her life and sanity at the seams. And yet her tears still poured from her eyes, blending with the steady stream of water dousing her from above, loss and survivor’s guilt too strong to deny.

Outside of that, she stole a swig of Frieza's wine in his honor the first chance she got.

Nabooru only spoke with Nappa and Vegeta twice on the fateful day they landed on Earth. The first informing her of their arrival and the second an update from Vegeta while they awaited Kakarot’s arrival after apparently being wished back from the dead somehow. She kept tabs on them throughout the seemingly successful encounter out of curiosity, Earth’s defenses falling easily to Nappa’s might. Unfortunately, Frieza and her fellow generals shared her interest after questioning why her charges used their off days to venture to Earth after their comrade’s fall. With little choice but to respond, she elaborated on the details she knew: a quick retelling of Raditz’s death and that Nappa and Vegeta wanted to avenge their comrade as well as see if the Saiyan living there or anyone else might be worth a place in the force.

Nausea and absolute dread swept over Nabooru quicker than a freak sandstorm in her homeland. The mention of how bringing the dead back to life came to light in conversation, as did the true reason Vegeta and Nappa traveled to Earth: to use something called the dragonballs to grant them any wish they wanted along with the realization that, since the Namekian on Earth refused to cooperate, they could travel to Namek to get their way. And, knowing Vegeta at least, she had no doubt he planned to use them to gain some kind of edge over Frieza.

Any hope for his success crashed and burned in the wake of catching a glimpse of Frieza’s morphing expression: from mild boredom in listening to the situation play out, to slightly widened eyes in shock, a flash of fury, to finally resting on the expertly crafted blend of amusement and indifference that preceded a barrage of questions aimed at Nabooru and her knowledge of these mystical orbs and Vegeta’s plans for them at such a rapid fire rate she barely had time to respond: did she know about them? Did she know of Vegeta's plans to gather them to make some kind of wish? What did he plan to wish for? Did the filthy little traitor really think he could get away with this? Not telling his emperor about such a grand opportunity to tighten his hold on the universe?

Nabooru only answered the first two questions--"No, this is the first I've heard of them and his plans"--as Frieza deemed it enough information to assert two facts: they would head to Namek to secure the dragonballs for his own wish and that, once Vegeta and Nappa returned, both would be effectively cut loose of his service. The vicious smile on his lips suggested it would not be in the form of a strongly worded letter of severance. Their course was immediately set for Planet Namek, and Nabooru was more than grateful when Frieza excused her for the equivalent of an evening. Panic tore through her, ravaged her mind and picked her heartbeat up to a startling pace.

She paced her quarters like a woman possessed, unable to contact Vegeta or Nappa and warn them as both scouters went offline hours ago, only feeding her panic. Chewing her thumb, she fought herself over which message to send their pods' messaging system: a warning to stay as far away from Namek as possible, as far away from Frieza and his claims to the empire as they could. To stay alive and just escape this damn life while they had the chance as Frieza meant to kill them on sight anyway. But on the other hand, she suspected they wouldn't heed such a warning, and her own pride recoiled at the idea of telling her former comrades to tuck their tails and flee after all they've been through under this regime. They deserved revenge, no matter how slim their chances had become.

The distress signal halted her threatening to create a trench in the floor of her quarters. A single signal. From Vegeta's pod. She tapped into the ship's systems and nearly choked at the readings of his vitals: the labored breathing, the dangerously low heart rate and brain activity, the loss of blood, all of which caused him to swim in and out of consciousness while connected to the emergency life support. With the coordinates days away, she ordered the fleet command to ensure he was routed to the nearest base and to have a healing tank prepared for his arrival. She asked if they had received any signals from Nappa's pod, but they claimed it had not been in motion since several hours before.

What had gone so wrong? It sounded like Nappa alone had Earth's defenses under control. How had he ended up MIA and Vegeta on the brink of death?

Once it was confirmed Vegeta was headed toward the base nearest his location, this one half a day away instead of several, only then did she allow herself to sit on the edge of her bed. Part of her wondered if she should have let him take his chances with the longer flight. But she knew he would never forgive her for it, even in death. The thought helped her decide on the message to send to his pod. One hand balled into a fist on her thigh, she tapped into the proper channel to leave her message:

"Frieza requests your presence on Planet Namek. Stay alive, Vegeta. We end this there."

Pulling her scouter from her ear, she turned it over in her hands, contemplating the future. Namek. The stage of potentially their final showdown with Frieza. Her odds of survival were slim. If Frieza didn't catch wind of her treason and kill her, Vegeta likely would once he got what he needed as he, too, viewed her as a traitor, as appalling as Zarbon, Dodoria, or any of Frieza's most devout cronies. Still, she wanted to aid him in whatever way she could with his endeavor. She doubted he would do much better with his immortality than Frieza would, his ambitions after killing the tyrant similar enough as far as she could tell, but if anyone deserved to put an end to Frieza, it was Vegeta. She wanted the emperor to pay for all that he had done to the Saiyans, to her, and all the other races he subjugated and wiped out in his quest for universal dominion. If Vegeta didn't show, she would stop Frieza herself from, at the very least, obtaining immortality.

While she could now hold her own against Zarbon and Dodoria, she knew she would only have a few days left of training with them and little time between to strengthen herself further. She needed an edge on them, even a slim one. Her mind wandered to the Saiyans' adventures on Earth, the details about how they could sense power levels without a device like a scouter and could lower their power levels to near nothing to go undetected. Both abilities the empire likely never considered thanks to the technology they had. It wasn't much, but figuring that out could aid her in the coming clash. She would just have to use the time she had to sleep to figure it out instead.

She lowered herself to the floor and crossed her legs, setting her scouter across from her. If she could raise her power level to its limits, surely she could figure out pushing it down the other way. And meditation might help her find the focus to sense others' ki. Keep her focused on what the future may hold for her.

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

Namek exuded the peaceful atmosphere the reports hastily thrown together for Frieza, his generals, and the foot soldiers brought along for the missions touted. With three suns, it never experienced night. The green sky overhead and matching seas had a calming effect, and the lush, blue grass their ship set down on could pass as high end carpeting. As they disembarked from the ship, Nabooru in step with Zarbon and Dodoria behind Frieza in his hover chair, the Gerudo was well aware that they were about to disrupt the peace these people worked to maintain.

Scouts were ordered out to scour the planet for the dragonballs or information regarding them. At Frieza's behest, Dodoria tapped the button on his scouter to scan their vicinity. "There are several clusters of readings around. One only a couple hundred meters that way," he said, pointing to the north. Nabooru could sense them, a group of varying power levels, a gratifying and dread-inducing feeling. Others dotted the periphery of her senses’ field.

"Excellent," Frieza commented. "Since they failed to offer us a warm welcome, what do you say we pay the locals a visit and teach them to respect their betters?"

Refusal weighed heavy on her tongue, but Frieza took to the sky before any of them could attempt a response. She followed with Zarbon and Dodoria, the handful of other soldiers taking up formation behind them. She tried to quell the oncoming nausea with returning to the mindset that, scarily enough, had come natural to her over the years. A soldier on duty and following orders. She thought of her people back home and protecting them. She just had a play along a little longer, until she could find an opening to hinder if not outright thwart Frieza's plans. She could not afford to consider the Namekians as any more than another enemy. She planned to avoid getting her own hands dirty as much as possible (not that standing by while her fellow generals and Frieza likely committed atrocities to these people to achieve their ends felt much better), she had little hope in being successful on that front. Thus, she prepared herself for another game of pretend. Just like playing raid and soldier as a kid. Hopefully it would be her last.

They touched down before a group of white domed buildings. The green-skinned villagers paused in their business, those working in the surrounding gardens standing to observe them better. Their ears were long and pointed and short antennae extended from the center of their heads. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to trepidation. She could already imagine them twisted in fear and pain if they couldn't provide Frieza with what he desired. It wasn't a sight she particularly wanted to see, but it would only be avoided if they played along. She didn't particularly want that either.

The Namekian that finally approached them sported wrinkles on his forehead and face and appeared far more aged than many of the others. He was tall and fairly thin. "We don't have company here often. What brings you to my village, strangers?" His eyes passed between each of them, searching their faces for a preemptive answer.

"Since you seem...rather busy with what you pass off as agriculture, I'll cut straight to the point." Frieza ignored the Namekians glower at the slight against his village and way of life. "My cohorts and I are searching for something called the dragonballs and our intel says your kind creates them. Would you be so kind as to point us in the proper direction of finding them?"

The elder Namekian's brow furrowed. "The dragonballs are sacred relics of my people. Only those deemed worthy through a series of tests--"

"Oh, no, no," Frieza interrupted with a haughty laugh. "I apologize, but my men and I have no time for such frivolity. I have immortality to secure and an empire to run. I'm on a rather tight schedule and it was difficult enough to fit this little excursion into it. It would behoove you to streamline this process and tell me what I need to know and I'll be out of your antennae before you know it."

"I apologize as well, but it is not my place to impart such knowledge to someone seeking the dragonballs for such selfish gain." His frown deepened. "Look elsewhere for your eternal life."

The emperor sighed with dramatic flair. "I should have known better than to think the denizens of a backwater planet such as this would possess enough intelligence not to cross me." He glanced over to Dodoria with the barest tilt of his head. "Dodoria here has been itching for a little action and he specializes in squashing worms like you. I'll ask again: where can we find the dragonballs?"

"Get lost. Leave this planet," the Namekian growled. Nabooru admired his guts but she knew they would prove fatal. Frieza wasn't lying about Dodoria's brutality.

"Very well. Dodoria, choose your favorite Namekian and kill them."

Frieza barely finished the order when Dodoria disappeared in a flash. He reappeared feet from the elder behind another Namekian. Pink, meaty hands grasped either side of his head and jerked before he could think to react. Neck snapped, the Namekian slumped to the ground.

"Have you changed your mind?"

The elder stared in horror at the villager whose face stared back in permanent shock and agony. "Y-you monsters!"

"I'll take that as a no. Two more Dodoria."

The next pair had a split second more warning. One tried to run only to be snagged by the neck of his robes and decapitated by Dodoria's palm slamming into the back of his head with incredible force. The second he blasted into nothing.

Nabooru bit the inside of her cheek to keep silent, fearing she would either beg Frieza to stop or implore the elder Namekian to cooperate. This was nothing new to her; she had slaughtered thousands in Frieza's employ. Why did this feel so different? Why was this harder to stomach and detach herself from?

Frieza tapped his fingers on the console of his chair, the clack of his onyx talons needling her nerves. "Still silent? Dodoria, thr--"

"No, please. No more. Spare them." He bowed his head and muttered under his breath, an apology perhaps to whoever the revered most. "I'll tell you what you need to know."

"Excellent." With a wave of his hand, he beckoned Dodoria back to his side. The general harrumphed but returned to Frieza's side, attack dog leashed once more. "Please. Continue."

The Namekian grit his teeth, and Nabooru noted his gaze slide to the fallen villagers, a glimpse of sadness and shame flashing in his eyes. "There are seven in total and they grant the wish of those who gather them. The Elders like myself are tasked with guarding them, one for each of us."

Frieza's cold chuckle sent a chill up her spine that spread throughout her body. "What luck. Then you have one here?"

"I-I, yes. There is one here."

"Very good. As thanks for your aid," Frieza's index finger rose parallel to the ground and extended toward the elder, "your death will be a quick one."

Nabooru barely saw the shot of pink energy leave the black-tipped digit and pierce the Namekian's chest. He stumbled and fell forward. Violet blood soaked the grass beneath him and spread slowly outward. Silence loomed heavy over Namekian and Frieza Force alike, though the tone between the two parties differed drastically: shocked terror for the former and cool indifference for the latter. In it, she could only think of the fact that they would likely repeat this six more times. Six more refusals from the proud people. Countless deaths to follow. Even if she did not lift a finger, her inaction to stop any of it placed the guilt just as heavily on her if she were to kill them herself.

The Gerudo. She had to think of them. Her home and the golden desert sands. Her friends, her mother, even her staunchest rivals. Had to remember that she only needed to bide her time a little longer before she could see them again and leave this life behind her.

"Search the village," Frieza commanded the soldiers at last. The wicked grin that alighted his lips made Nabooru inwardly flinch, dreading what further violence he would inflict upon these people. "Leave none left alive. These Namekians will serve as a wonderful example to their kin about what happens when you refuse to cooperate with me."

It was difficult to watch, and she did her best not to without harboring suspicion or doubt in her capabilities and willingness to serve. None of them possessed the strength or no how to fight back. They were slaughtered with ruthless abandon by the force soldiers until the last one fell to the grass in a heap. While the soldiers searched, she checked in on Vegeta's healing progress. The doctor responded swiftly: the Saiyan left hours ago in a rush. His coordinates suggested he was indeed heading to Namek.

Her hand fell back to her side as a shout from one of the larger structures arose. A soldier emerged with an orange ball the size of his head, two red stars on its surface. The first of seven dragonballs.

#fic: recruited #tw: blood #tw: violence

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