#charge nova drabble

[nyandereneko]

Unlikely Outcomes

Word Count: 630

Summary: “That was a consequence they were both willing to shoulder, if nothing else because it was the only way they knew to survive.”

Author’s Note: This is just a more reflective leaning little warm up drabble, I’m thinking of doing these more often and posting them more frequently than some of my longer pieces or ongoing fics so I at least have some content to share in the interim of the big updates. (And to tide me over until I can get in the groove of regularly posting such big updates again!) Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

The air was thick with sweat and dust as a spine chilling hush settled over the battlefield. The sun’s rays made a weak attempt to breech the dense clouds that billowed forth from the burnt debris and violently disturbed earth. One of the forms that led the charge sunk warm and heavy into a young woman’s arms as she swaddled him in her desperate embrace. He could have been cold and limp instead, a withering husk devoid of the brilliant soul that warmed his golden veins, melting precious metal into viscous blood. Some believed that same blood flowed through the very land itself, nurturing the stones with its soothing, enduring vitality.

But there would be no vitality left to offer the starving earth if his reserves were sapped, if the meager dregs of his sovereign essence faded from this world. That was a future, a possibility, a consequence she could not abide; it was a tragedy she was determined to avoid at any cost. Even if that cost included herself, although he would have been quick to argue against her self-sacrificial rhetoric. Ironic coming from him, especially considering the present circumstances. They were each other’s worst enemies in that neither of them cared about anything more than one another. And while that may have sounded plenty pleasant on paper, nothing is scarier than hinging your life on someone else’s.

That was a consequence they were both willing to shoulder, if nothing else because it was the only way they knew to survive.

“What were you thinking, diving into the fray so recklessly…what are you going to do the next time I’m not here to save you?” Nova’s voice was soft, withdrawn as she fidgeted with his long, disheveled strands. Running his traditionally silky, luminescent locks through her shaking fingers like a loom, the dullness of their texture and shine likewise dimmed the fading flicker in her heart. She’d done all she could with the energy at her disposal, but if either of them wanted to make a full recovery, they were going to have to entrust themselves to more comprehensive treatments. If she ever lost him, she didn’t know how she’d carry on. Didn’t he realize how much it hurt her to see him like this, how much it pained her to see him treating his own life, a life she cherished more than anything else, even her own, with such thoughtless indifference?

“I don’t see the point in dwelling on them,” the Archon coughed, a trace of gold dripping from the corner of his lip. “Unlikely outcomes, I mean. And you not being by my side when I need you is one of those…unless you think there’s a reason I should be worried about that kind of thing?”

Nova remained silent for a moment, pressing a palm to his chest as she monitored his rhythms. The slightly staggered rise and fall of his chest, the slowly stabilizing, steady beat of his gilded heart against her clammy flesh, they were all signs that enabled her to breath a sigh of relief. She concentrated on the soothing pulse of her Vision as she directed another feeble flow of healing energy through his system, starting at the heart and coursing through to the end of each capillary; every part of him was precious, irreplaceable, irrefutably sacred in her eyes. She lived to protect, uplift, and revere this Archon just as her own…but the blessings she received in return weren’t comparable in the slightest.

If there was ever any question of where Nova’s true loyalties resided, she wasn’t the one posing it. She didn’t need to, because there was no hesitation, no doubt in her mind as to the single correct answer she believed in with all her heart.

[tired-and-swordless]

Writing Drabble stuff: Mirror Image

The smile you give him is practiced and with an ease, you never thought you could accomplish before Nova trained you. And Ricardo Ortega falls for it hook, line, and sinker. However, you have a feeling it’s more because he’s seeing someone else when he looks at you. You and Nova are so scarily similar in appearance that it makes you wonder about your own parentage. 

Maybe it’s not too far off, calling each other siblings the way you have. 

“Sorry didn’t mean to interrupt your uh,” he tilts his head, “Shadow boxing?”

You laugh, “Sure if that’s what you want to call it.” You know you’ve still got a ways to go before you’re anywhere near Nova’s level. Or Charge’s for the matter.

“I’m Ricardo,” he holds out a hand and you take it. Firm grip, charming smile. No wonder Nova feel head over heels. It’s too bad you’re all too aware of this man's games, otherwise, you might be tempted to flirt right back. You know though that would just hurt the only person you give a shit about.

You smile back. More formal, maybe a hint more annoyed. “Sunny.” Not your original name but let's be honest it’s safer than Ace. 

Ace who is dead and gone and a shriveled husk. Bet too high without looking at what he could lose. You don’t think even Nova was prepared for you to wake up when he touched your mind. Found the spark and blew enough fire on it that Sunny dragged himself out of the corpse. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before?” 

“I usually come at night,” you shrug,” Fewer people to deal with.”

Ricardo’s smile falters a bit,and he shakes his head a bit. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bug you. You just… You look a lot like someone I know.” 

You could let it go. Laugh it off. But you’re feeling like being a little shit. Throw some gasoline on the fire and see what explodes first. “Wait… You said your name is Ricardo? Ricardo Ortega?” 

A twitch, a falter, a little laugh like he didn’t expect to be caught. “Uh Yeah I-”

“My brother's friend?” 

That completely stops him in his tracks. Eyes going wide. 

“You are Charge, right? You used to work with him when he…” you pause as if you’re unsure how to put it before just shrugging, “You know.”

“I uhm. I didn’t know he had any younger siblings.” He’s not exactly floundering but he does look like he’s adding things to a board. You wonder if that’s where Nova picked it up from. 

You shrug and roll your eyes. “Not surprising. Nova, doesn’t really like to talk about our family. I don’t either.” 

You can almost see the strings on his board. Going picture to picture. Yours now sits near a blurry photo of Nova. Both of them tied to a blank spot. 

It’s wrong. Charge has a theory and you can almost see what it is, but you know its wrong. And maybe that’s the best way to keep the both of you safe. Look in a different direction and maybe that gives you more time to plan against the real threat. 

…

“So what’s the plan?” You sip your cup of coffee as you sit across from Nova who stares at his computer with a frown. The bottle of whiskey beside him is already half-empty. 

Going to need to work on getting him to slow down on the alcohol before it becomes more of a problem. 

“Don’t even think about touching my alcohol,” he mutters as he clicks the mouse. Searching for something? You lean over to get a better look at the screen. 

Of course it’s old pictures of Charge. “Really?” You raise an eyebrow and he makes sure not to look anywhere near you. 

“It’s research.” 

“Nova.” 

“Sunny.” 

You narrow your eyes. “You could just talk to him.” You say it even though you know exactly why it’s a bad idea. 

Blood on the ground. Tall and imposing, standing over a broken form. Hesitating. Red strings that tie Nova to a name to you to an empty spot. All together on a board. 

He winces at the same time you do. You can feel the regret and the terror. But most of all the anger. The need for revenge that drives the both of you forward. Nova might be looking in from the outside but your presence drags him back to this side. 

And the both of you sigh in sync. 

Sometimes it gets hard to tell whose who when you are this close. But at the end of the day you’re still Ace. The gambler, the cheat. The man who can take of his clothes and not have to worry about having a panic attack if someone sees him.

[chargenovasmash]

Thicker than Blood, Pt. I [Cousins AU]

FINALLY.  This one hurt, folks.  3775 words of pain.  Thank my love @pathfindersemail for not letting me give up on this.

Puck goes home to her brother after dropping Sarianna’s drunk ass back at the Tempest, and things start to fall apart.

Read on AO3.

Nights like this, when a hushed vidcall whisked his sister away unceremoniously at some ridiculous hour, left Oliver Park with plenty of time to think.  

Too much.  Too much time to wonder if keeping to his silent memorization of her antics was enough; whether the face she showed him or the one she showed the rest of Kadara was the true mask, and whether her lies, old as she was and proliferating as they were the more she worked for Reyes, would catch up to them sooner or later.  

The sky was already a few shades lighter by the time the soft whirring of the shack’s door announced her return.  His sister, the formidable outlaw known as ‘Puck’, dragged her feet across the threshold, wrenched off her grisly helmet, and let it fall irreverently on an empty crate next to her.  Oliver watched silently as she stared at the floor for a moment after the door shut behind her, heaving exhausted breaths in and out before realizing she wasn’t quite safe from all scrutiny just yet.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

A classic Reggie response.  No explanations, no excuses, and certainly no apologies.

“I didn’t say anything,” Oliver replied with a shrug as she shed piece after piece of her armor, like she couldn’t get it off of her quickly enough.  The tension in his neck and shoulders released bit by bit with each hard clank on the floor.  Little by little, she left ‘Puck’ and everything her alias entailed behind.  Soon, it was just Reggie standing in front of him again, desperately trying to counter the ever-present nuisance of helmet hair as she secured the top half of her undersuit around her waist and let the skin exposed by her fraying tank top breathe real air once more.

“I know, that's why I said ‘don't look at me like that’.”

An emerging trend in this routine was a stab of bittersweet melancholy once his sister’s face was wholly hers again.  It hadn't changed much over the years,  although she’d lightened her hair from the same deep black as his to a warm chestnut brown and went from a tight ponytail to cut short and shaggy once helmet hair became a daily inevitability.  Years weren't what wore on her, though.  He was, his burdens that she'd been fighting him to carry since they were kids.  Four years her senior, he’d always been her hero, her Superman; the last thing Oliver ever wanted was to be to his sister the reason she looked so damn tired.

The heaviness in that idea wouldn’t let him laugh at her joke like he knew she wanted.  Instead, he gathered her into a tight hug, the fraternal sort that ended with a healthy rake of his knuckles across the top of her head.  The screech inlaid with rolling, high-pitched laughter as she tore out of his arms drew out a chuckle, and things felt okay again.  This was normal.  This...this, he would let be his fault.

“You okay, assmaster?” she taunted, and threw a light shove at his shoulder.  “Anything happen while I was gone?”

Oliver plucked a wrench off of the shelf next to him and waved it back and forth between two fingers.  

“Well, buttface, I dropped this, and it made a loud noise.”

Whether from his facetious answer or his low effort contribution of ‘buttface’ he couldn’t say, but Reggie’s entire body groaned.  

“Chodefarmer,” she muttered, a smile teasing at her face as she opened her omni-tool.  Starting that medical scanning software she’d stolen from the Nexus before they left, no doubt.  “How’s your head?  Any better?”

It was his turn to let his entire body groan.  Not a day had gone by since he woke on this evil-smelling rock that he hadn’t spent at least a few minutes awash in the orange glow of that fucking scanner.

“Just fine, dicksocket,” he replied, giving it a bit more thought this time.  Predictably, she grinned her approval behind the omni-tool screen, but she didn’t reply.  Data from her scans raced in between them and held her attention, interrupting the succor he’d found in the flow of banter between them.  Brows furrowed, Oliver waved a hand in front of her, hoping to break her concentration.  “Come on, put that thing away.”

“Shh,” she hissed, swatting his hand away while keeping her eyes glued on the screen.  “I’ve gotta-”

“Hey, Reg…” Momentarily abandoning their game, Oliver set a firm but gentle hand on her arm and slowly lowered it.  He met her protesting eyes with raised brows he hoped would drive the point home.  

“I’m fine, kiddo.”

When she was younger, Reggie would pop her hips out to one side, plant her hands on them, sneer exactly the way she was now and defiantly insist she was absolutely not a ‘kiddo’.  Now, it was all she could do not to let him know just how endearing the nickname had become.  He leaned in a little closer, eyes still locked on hers, and waggled his eyebrows as if to say, you know I’m right.  

She did, but she didn’t want to.  Stubborn as she was, a tacit understanding existed between them: no secrets, and no lies, including whether or not Oliver was, indeed, fine.  Her face softened for a moment with a reluctant exhale, and, in true Reggie form, hid immediately behind a smirk rather than say the words out loud.

“We’re on ‘E’,” she huffed, closing her omni-tool and struggling to keep the smirk from widening any further, “and it’s my turn, elcor breath.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’m fine,” he retorted, plastering a smug grin across his face, “fart factory.”

Reggie shook her head between snickers, and brushed past him in search of the large crate in the next room that held their stash of food.  That one always made her laugh, whether she wanted to or not, and this time was no exception.  For everything about Reggie that changed, there were a precious few that never would, and Oliver was content for the moment knowing that was one of them.

“So, what was it?”

“What was what?” she called through a mouthful of some sort of jerky.  He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what she made it from.  He was, however, sure that she knew what he meant; when Reggie asked for clarification like that, it only meant he wouldn’t like the answer.

“What was so important you had to rush out of here in the middle of the night without saying where you were going?”

The rummaging stopped, and the crate lid fell shut.  Reggie appeared in the doorway a moment later, still vigorously chewing, eyeing him with a rancor that didn’t match her nonchalant shrug.  

“It wasn’t.”

Or, it meant he really wouldn’t like the answer.

Typical Reggie evasiveness, skirting around the temptation to lie by avoiding the subject altogether.  Between the racket she made when she left waking him and the anxiety of waiting for her to come back, Oliver wasn’t in the mood for games.

“You’re not Puck here, you know.”  

Her face scrunched into the exaggerated look she always gave when she was playing dumb.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oliver couldn’t have asked for a better demonstration of what he’d just told her.

“It means when you make that face here, I can actually see it.”  

Her face leveled into a scowl, and Oliver couldn't resist a hushed chuckle at how her protest only reinforced his point.  He walked to the crate by the door and lifted her helmet off of it, giving it a soft toss upwards and catching it just next to his head with a taunting shake.  “It means this…this is…”

He saw it out of the corner of his eye, and grasped the helmet with two hands in front of him for closer inspection.  At first, he thought it might have been a seam in the plating he'd never noticed before, but instead of a smooth, straight line, it was crooked, bent inward and dented around it.  Some of the circuitry inside was visible.  Not seamed.  Broken.  

“Shit, this...this had to be one hell of a blow, Reg.” He raised his head slowly to look at her, only blinking when the sting in his eyes reminded him of the necessity.  “What happened?”

Reggie snatched it from him with the same wide-eyed consternation as if it were some private thing, like she’d caught him going through her holos or her extranet browser history.  

“Nothing.  You don’t have to worry about me.”

Oliver folded his arms across his chest and quirked one eyebrow.

“Okay, except yes, I do.”  He gestured towards the helmet cradled in her arms with a flat, open hand.  “That could easily have been way worse.  You said this one would be easy, and you should’ve been back hours ago.”  

Reggie relegated the helmet to the floor with the rest of her armor and folded her arms in front of her, her face set in the sort of indignant look mothers gave their children when they need to wordlessly emphasized what they’d just fucking said.

Oliver sighed, and shook his head.  

“I know...I know you’re helping him to help me.  I get it.  But...is all this really worth it just to keep me from getting headaches?”

“It’s not just headaches, Ollie, and you know it.”

He did.  The Initiative disqualified most L2 biotics from participating, and for good reason.  Cryostasis was risky, and the revival process for an L2, especially one as finicky and troublesome as his, required time and the utmost care and precision.  None of which, of course, were afforded him when Kett shot their shuttle out of the sky and it was either burning to death in his stasis pod, or being dragged out to risk severe stasis sickness and, well, his own brain killing him.  Out of the frying pan, he supposed.  The seizures, at least, had stopped for the most part, and the migraines were starting to retreat back to their somewhat bearable pre-cryo level.  He shot a begrudging glance at the old white cane leaning in a corner; it had gleefully been abandoned there for a week now, but he tasted a lingering bitterness in his mouth at having ever relied on it at all.

“And what do you mean, ‘all this’?”

“This!”  Unable to focus on a single thing to point out, he threw his hands into the air, the haphazard flailing motions encompassing everything a simple explanation could not.  The armor littering the floor, the few things they owned or inherited from the shack’s previous owner in perfect order yet somehow in complete disarray, the busted helmet that should never have been his sister’s face to begin with.

“I hate that you have to stick your neck out and do shit like this because of me.  That’s not your job, Reggie, it’s mine.”  

Her face fell in a deadpan straightness as she cocked her head to one side.  Oliver felt like a petulant child in a history vid, wailing that, in running herself ragged to keep him alive, his sister had stolen his birthright.  What jabbed at him the most, though, wasn’t that it was his little sister instead of himself who hid her face and played sidekick to a smuggler for his sake; it was the fact that, if necessary, she’d do far worse.

“You and Reyes...this arrangement you have with him has done a lot for us, and I appreciate it, I do,” he began, in a half-assed attempt to be reassuring, “but...it’s not worth sitting up wondering if tonight’s the night he gets my baby sister killed.”

She knit her brows together, and her chest and shoulders rose in unison as she inhaled sharply through her nose and growled through her teeth.  “Seriously, Ollie?”

“Yes, Regina, seriously!  What if you’re not so lucky next time?  What if next time it’s your skull and not your helmet?”  

Thanks to a cursedly vivid imagination, his hypothetical scenario felt very, very real.  Too real.  It was lucky.  Any time he saw her could easily be the last, and her huff of haughty dismissal did little to ease his mind.  

“You’re all I have left, kiddo.  I can’t lose you too.”

His hands came to rest on her shoulders.  She stared piquedly up at him before she relaxed, and curled one hand around his.  That was Reggie, though, wasn’t it?  Laughing in the face of things that could kill her on a whim and charging headlong into things she couldn’t be sure she could charge away from?  Well, she would be sure, at least.  ‘I can’t’, in that context, didn’t exist in her vocabulary.

“I promise, Ollie.  It was nothing,” she replied, a hint of a fond smile pulling over her face.  “Reyes wanted me to go get some drunk out of his room at Tartarus, and they got a little feisty.”

She puffed out a half-assed giggle as she spoke.  Oliver bit at his lip; pain in the ass kid never took anything seriously.  

“I’d call that more than ‘a little feisty’.”  

If the stony frown that fell over Reggie’s face was any indication, his flippant tone failed miserably to convince her it was anything other than a smokescreen.

“Okay, look.  I can fucking handle this shit, okay?” she spat, stepping backwards out of his hands and leaning indignantly against the crate.  “Stop acting like it’s the end of the goddamned universe because Reyes asked me to go drag beans out of a fucking bar.”

With a roll of her eyes, she shoved off of the crate and paced around the room, head down and hands on her hips.  Oliver rubbed at the back of his neck; the headaches never really went away, but they sure as hell spread down to his neck and shoulders when Reggie said stupid shit like that.  A practical amount of caution was prudent, if anything, given their situation, and if dragging beans out of a bar for Reyes meant she came home with a gigantic dent in her helmet, it was more than…

Wait…

Something about that phrase was...familiar.  It poked blindly at his memory, like someone trying to find a keyhole in a dark room.  Irritating, to be sure, but resolute, sure he’d figure it out if he just kept trying.  His eyes found her once more, narrowed into slits and staring beams through her skull.  

“...what did you just say?”

Reggie made a face.  “What?”

“Just now, what did you say?”

“‘What’?” she replied, mocking him by waving her hands next to her head.  Oliver only rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I’m being serious.  You said you had to drag ‘beans’ out of a bar.”

“Yeah, a dead-weighted person?  A sack of beans?”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow, and cleared his throat with a gruff hack.  “Yeah, Reg, you’ve never used that analogy in your life.  In fact, the only person you’ve ever referred to as ‘Beans’ is...is…”

No.  It couldn’t be.  

He raised his head, eyes round, simultaneously hoping for and dreading confirmation.

“Sara.”

And there it was, in the minute tics at the corners of Reggie’s eyes and mouth, and the way the words hung in her mouth.  His heart started to race, and he clenched a fist, symbolically grasping the revelation.  

Shit...she’s here.  Sara’s here.  They made it.

“It’s been over a year, Ollie.  Sara’s dead.  They’re all dead.  The ark’s gone.”

Oliver’s breath caught in his throat, and heat flushed through his cheeks.  He'd seen that look on his sister’s face a thousand-no, thousands of times before.  Well, he'd observed it.  It was a look she gave everyone else to puppy-eye them into believing every word she said, and it always melted away the moment she was alone with him again.  Now that he was the look’s recipient, however, he wondered at just how she’d managed to avoid getting her ass knocked out for it.

She lied, right to his fucking face.

There had to be some reason, some explanation.  Sara didn't get drunk enough to need dragged away from anywhere without cause, so something must've happened.  Was she marooned here?  A fight with her dad?  Exiled herself, perhaps?  

No, no way.  Internally, Sara was as much at odds with her father as Reggie was, but where Reggie made no secret of it and could barely be in the same room with the man without trying to bite his head off over one thing or another, Sara kept it to herself.  She played by the rules.  Besides, if she was exiled from the Initiative, there's no reason Reggie would've dragged her anywhere other than back here.  She was in Reyes’s room at Tartarus, so maybe...no, definitely not that.  Even then, Reggie would think it was too funny not to tell him about it.  

No, there was only one reason he could think of that she'd want him to think Sara was dead, a stupid and infuriatingly selfish reason that only made his lip curl harder.

She was happy playing outlaw on Kadara, and if Sara was alive, there’d be no reason to stay.

Oliver remained silent long enough that Reggie’s shoulders started to relax, and she adopted a kind half-smile that served as an apologetic gesture of sorts.  That the Hyperion was lost, all of the Initiative’s plans had gone to shit, and no one else was coming was an unspoken consensus between them, accepted as fact but never uttered out loud. In truth, he said nothing not because of what she said, but because there was too much he wanted to say.  The words stuck in a gaggle in his mind, too frantic to organize themselves enough to be manageable.  

A dull throbbing manifested at the base of his skull, and he could feel the hairs there start to stand on end with the threat of rising biotic energy.  Great.  He wasn't glowing yet, at least, but he drew out his next inhale in hopes it wouldn't get to that point.  Glowing would hurt.  Anything more than that might kill him.

When she reached forward to place a reassuring hand on his arm, he scoffed, and heaved the only word he could get past his lips:

“Wow…”

Reggie sighed and pursed her lips to one side.  

“Hey, I know it’s bullshit, but-”

‘Bullshit’ was a vast oversimplification.  Oliver closed his eyes and threw one hand up in front of her face, the other clenched into a fist at his hip.  This ended now.

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” he interrupted, centering his eyes on hers so there could be no doubt in her mind how painfully serious he was.  “I know every lie you’ve ever told, but not one of them has ever, ever been to me.”

His skin was bathed in pins and needles.  The thought raced through his mind like a gremlin, grabbing and nagging and clawing through every attempt he made to block it.

She lied, she lied, she lied, she fucking lied...

“This work, these people you’re dealing with...it’s changing you.”

Blood pounded through his neck and in his wrists, both of his fists clenched now, desperately holding on to the last bits of control he had.  Despite the spearing pain at the realization that he’d never, ever had to preface a question to her this way, he had to ask.  He had to know.  He had to hear her say it.

“Tell me the truth, Reggie.  Sara’s alive, isn’t she?”

She wouldn’t even say the word.  She just stood there, twitching her head up and down in the tiniest nod she could possibly have managed.

God damn it, Reggie.  God damn it.

“How long?” he muttered under his breath, despite knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to keep his biotics at bay if he did.    

She shifted on her feet a little, too stubborn to break eye contact but too...what, ashamed? To maintain it.  It came out in a look that was both sinister, angry at him for figuring her out, and infuriatingly sheepish.  She should be sheepish.  Embarrassed.  Of all her answers in this conversation, he was going to like this one the least.  This one was going to hurt.

“A month, maybe.”

Fuck.

The pins and needles became tiny stings, steadily intensifying and radiating in all directions, setting his skin ablaze while leaving his insides impossibly cold, as if all the heat was being sucked out of him through the dark purple corona that erupted around him as the last of his control slipped away.

“Hey, wh…” Reggie gasped, throwing her arms towards him in a near panic, “Stop, okay?  You'll hurt yourself!”

It did hurt.  

It burned.  It stung.  It coursed through him, sped up his heart and breathing while seeming to slowly rip the very fibers of his muscles apart, pressing outward in excruciating throbs inside his skull, tearing his skin to pieces as if he’d explode if he let it go on much longer.  

And that was only the biotics.  The chorus in his mind continued, prodding and squeezing, crushing him to dust with every refrain.

She lied.  She lied.  She lied.

“Hey!”

Reggie managed to roar louder than his thoughts, and it jarred him enough to dissipate much of the energy, leaving him with only the familiar pins and needles again.  Things were bearable, for now.  She grabbed him by the arms and looked him over, seemingly relieved and satisfied he wouldn’t be in a coma anytime soon.

The chorus remained.  It wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t enough, and he couldn’t let it slide.  Not this time.  

He tore backwards out of her arms and to the footlocker next to his bed.  Inside was a rucksack, and a piecemeal set of armor scavenged from dead outlaws.  He filled the rucksack with what little was left, and set about strapping the armor over his clothes.     

“Ollie, what the fuck?” Reggie protested.  He stormed past her, heaving the rucksack over one shoulder, and opened his omni-tool to access the door.  She feigned disinterest at first, but her voice trembled in desperation a little more with each press of a button.  

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Oliver closed his omni-tool to the tune of the lock mechanism whirring open.  As the panels separated and the blue-tinged landscape of early morning Kadara coalesced between them, he turned towards his sister once more, shifted the rucksack again, and straightened his back with a resolute stare.

“The port.  I’m going to find her.”

[refurbishedgray]

Lover, Look and See (Crosshair x Reader drabble)

Crosshair x Reader; NSFW; 1.1k words

Involves Extra Imperial Dark!Crosshair, vaguely stream-of-consciencey 

Trigger Warnings: reader death, suggested violence

...........................

You remember the days when his hand used to shake. But maybe those, too, had been your imagination. A faraway summer dream that is no longer as vivid as it used to be, until you find you can’t quite make the warm colors fit into stark black-white reality.

You close your eyes and try harder to remember, but cold wet is seeping into your kneecaps and the only warmth that comes flashing through your mind is an old one, from rough hands and sharp, biting incisors and the grunting ring of beautiful sounds from above and under and around you. Like gnashing teeth, the memory stirs and starts to chew.

“Look at me.” It’s the same voice. His voice, the only one that ever made your own hands shake. “Look. at. me.”

Desperation. A different, harsher, uglier kind than what he used to show you in darkened rooms.

The whisper of a threat - they’re not promises any more, even if the words are the same - presses at your temple. You try to look past him, to the mouth of the dirty, midnight street where he’d chased and caught you. You never could outrun him. The rains on this planet are heavy; pretty sounds pattering all around in an empty alley. But the sky is dark and so is his armor now. Above him, the red, phosphorescent glow of a neon cantina sign leaves his outline hazy. Unclear, like all the memories now.

As you turn your eyes to the gun, the vicious gleam of the barrel is the same color as the hair he had shaved away, and in the tick of slow seconds, you wonder if you had always lived in a dream.

………………

“Look at me.” The flashing white-hot lance of pain at the cusp of your ear drowns your lungs in a sudden breath. You hiss and curse and when the burn is soothed by a wet, hot kiss, you make sweeter sounds. Sometimes you can’t look at him. Sometimes, it’s too much, the tangling that starts in your chest too threatening for you to be brave.

His lips slide from your ear to your mouth. It’s not a kiss. It’s a joining. Until where he stops and you start can’t be separated by the breaths rattling from your mouth into his.

“Look, look…”

His hips rut against yours, hitting deep and grinding. Rooted inside you. It’s almost too perfect, too close, too intense, but your thighs slide around his anyway, damp skin over damp skin, and you lock him to you. He groans into your mouth, tries to thrust, but he’s so deep there’s nowhere to go.

“Look at me.” He mouths the words against your cheek. “Please.”

The plea makes your hands tighten and then tear loose from his shoulder blades, fingers sliding up his neck to snare the silver cropped hair. You dare to open your eyes and catch a flash of it against the neon glow leaking in through the window. You’d never tell him it was pretty.

Another roll of his hips tears a sob loose from you and he swallows it, drinks it like it will keep him alive when he leaves. His heart is pounding, or maybe it’s your own, but the rhythm is a fast-burning flame that coils itself around your insides and makes you flutter around the cock that’s planted inside you. It tears something free inside his chest, a ragged, pitiful sound Crosshair will call you liar for repeating when later, you remind him he’s made it.

He peels back, shoulders rising, arms loosening beneath you just enough that he can watch you.

You look at him, at the honey brown in his eyes lost to something dark. He snatches at the hand you raise to his face and presses a kiss to your palm, canines catching flesh as he pulls away.

He smiles, a white slash of teeth, when he hears you keen. His chest shines in the neon glow, blue-white over brown that’s lost its color; he’s sweating, suffering for this, like you are. He snaps his hips as you wrap your legs tight around his narrow waist, and somehow, he’s deeper still, like the plunge of a knife that’s found your heart. It’s going to bleed you out and leave you happy to die bloody.

You keep looking at him until you can’t. Until you see the knot form in his brow you know so well. Sometimes, you can’t look at each other.

There’s too much that needs to be said that will never be said.

But it doesn’t matter.

Stars flash behind your eyes as the universe goes nova and somewhere, distantly, you hear him curse your name and feel the flood of all he can give you bury itself deep, deep inside.

That’s what matters.  

He collapses beside you, an arm pulling you tight, and sighs contentedly as his fingers dance past your stomach to probe at what he’s left behind.

You look at him through the darkness, and trade a smile for a smile.

This is what matters.

He’s here. He’ll always be here.

………….

The hiss of a plasma cartridge charging loosens the memory. Carries it off into the flooded sewer trickling nearby. Gone. Spoiled now. Never to be remembered again.

He’s going to kill you. You wonder if he wants to, or if they’ve told him to do it just to prove to him that he can. You were the easiest to catch. The simplest and sweetest target. His brothers are long lost to the stars, safe on a planet you can’t name.

An ache blooms in your chest, so sharp and shattering you think he’s pulled the trigger too soon.

“Cross…” It’s the first word you’ve said to him since they stole him. Since he left. It’s said so softly, you wonder if he’s heard it.

“Look.” It’s the same susurrous whisper you remember and the echo the soft word sends splintering in your mind brings tears when nothing else does. “Look and see.”

You don’t want to see the ruin.

Your tears are lost to the rain and you wonder if he knows or notices you are weeping. For him. For yourself. For the galaxy that had given and taken him to and from your hands.

The plasma cartridge flares, charged and blindingly bright, like a sun rising. Or setting. You suppose it’s setting now. Strange, how slowly his finger moves to the trigger, unshaken. A stranger’s hand that used to pull your heart out and put it back in again.  

You look, because it’s the last thing you can do.

And in the final yawning millisecond, you see him and one last tear falls.

[staranon95]

meet me at the curbside

a red hood drabble

Fiona checks over Trevor’s message for the nth time that day. It’s a big thing for a complete stranger to get into the crew’s penthouse without setting off even one alarm. This Red guy must mean serious business then.

They have a vague description of height and physicality. Male, as far as they can tell. Trevor’s looking into any reports on a mysterious figure named Red in other hot spots in the city and several other key cities across the country. The rest of the Fakes are on standby to not only avoid Red, but if they can, bring him in. He’s sort of a non-threat to the Fakes. Yes, he’s broken into the penthouse and clearly copied their schematics for Maze Bank, but he didn’t try anything more. So far he’s got no digital footprint. Not even something Matt can find.

Other than that, it’s business as usual. Even Jack said she trusts that they can handle this. Or as she meant, ‘Don’t drag me into this shit.’ It’s not that Jack isn’t part of the crew anymore. Her priorities have shifted. She should be able to enjoy a quiet life every once in a while.

So Fiona has a vague description of a guy she’s never met and Trevor seems spooked enough to think it’s fairly high on the priority list. So she tucks all that information away and tries to carry on with her day.

She makes a trip into Korea Town, picking up some odds and ends, meeting with people for personal reasons. She left her motorbike a few blocks away. She finds parking at a different location means fewer people will try to guess where she’s going. But upon her arrival to her bike, someone else is there, sat on it like they own it, wearing red hoodie.

“Hey,” she says, strongly, squaring her shoulders and furrowing her brow. “Do you see your fucking name on that thing? Back the fuck off, mother fucker!”

The figure turns their head and they match the description of Red. He has what appears to a be a biker’s mask on, covering him from his chin to his eyes. He swings his leg over Fiona’s bike and settles into a semi-defensive stance, then he says, “Oh, damn. Super Nova? You’re a lot more intimidating than your photos.”

“Yeah, and I’m also a lot more hands on in those ones as well. So get the fuck out of here and I might forget you touched my bike.”

Red holds his hands up. “Whoa now. No need to get in a tizzy.”

“Two seconds, motherfucker!” She charges forward, and Red holds his hands up.

“Got it! You’re a real spitfire.”

“Dude, you trying to flirt with me now?”

“No, no! Honest, I’m hear for a good reason.”

“Get talking.” She wants to see how this situation will play out. She steps closer to Red, softening her stance and setting her hands on her hips, making her appear relaxed.

“Now, I’m going to assume you’ve heard of me by now. I doubt Trevor would let someone like me slide past him. Though he does seem to have a lot more on his plate these days.”

“What’s your point?”

“Oh, I’m getting to that. Thought you might like to know the LSPD are planning a little raid on a very specific property. Three guesses as to which one.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“You don’t have a reason not to.”

With Red’s easy stance, Fiona strikes. She goes for his wrist, intending to twist his arm behind his back until she’s able to get some zipties on him and pin him on the ground until backup can arrive. But Red is quicker than she thought. He twists and leans to the side and then sweeps his leg out under Fiona’s, sending her crashing onto the hard pavement of the sidewalk.

“Nice try, Nova.”

Then he’s dashing away and Fiona gives chase. She’s always been a quick runner. Sprinting was her thing back in track and field in high school. She chases Red down a narrow alley. She skids to a stop and watches him as he gets onto a garbage bin and launches himself at a fire escape. He hauls himself up the metal grates and scales the ladders quickly and efficiently until he’s gone.

Fiona rests her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Then she fishes out her phone, looking at the spot where Red disappeared to. She heads back to her bike.

“Yeah, Trev? Just had a run in with Red. I think we need a serious game plan when it comes to him.”

[thewhumpstuff]

D.I.S - Organized

Dispersal: Integrated-Squad. Organised and Mobilised

@badthingshappenbingo​​​ [Original Characters and content for -Dislocated Joint] Whumptober Day: No. 3 - My way or the highway - Manhandled, Forced to their knees, held at gunpoint [I couldn’t choose] [Art+Drabble] Ten Trails: Creature Feature (3)-Mob Violence [@yuckwhump​​]

CW/TW: Reference to a futuristic militaristic oligarchy. Dissent that fell into chaos. Power abuse. Art at the end features a man kneeling at gun-point and a woman forced to her knees.  [Please let me know if further warnings are necessary and I missed something.]

Locked arms and buckled knees. The rabble knelt by choice. Locked arms and buckled knees. The defectors knelt by force.

At the first shot and the slump of the blood-slick body - The barricade was broken. Those that craved the executions and those that wanted to see the practice abolished, flew at each other. What started as candle-flames to pay tribute, now raged as flickering fires of rebellion.

‘We need all hands on deck. Remember to stick with your unit.’ 

But Akira and Novara weren’t going to get a chance to stick with their units. They were going to fly solo, dropped into the thick of things to carve their own path. Nova’s voice was barely audible over the order that boomed repeatedly, it bloomed with a gentle concern. And that infallible sense of unwavering faith and hope, “This is a tough one to start off with… But you’re going to be fine.” Akira pursed her lips and looked down from their hovercopter at the chaos that ensued. There were armed folks on both sides. Some with juvenile weapons, others with more. Sticks, stones, knives and guns. She knew which side she’d be on, if the sides were still demarcated. If it still mattered… But it didn’t any more, there were no sides. Just the swell of a crowd. Some scurried into the mob, most scurried out. The streets were strewn with banners, the alleys were a-crawl with Acers, Q.B agents and the dissenting civilians alike. She was just a damn Cadet. Novara and Tariq were just Officers, just a rank higher. None of them were in uniform. She peered over at Tariq who piloted the hovercopter with a lazy finesse. He looked like he belonged there, with or without the uniform. Nova was preparing her tools, she had a little more on her hands, given that she was qualified to help with stabilization. She too, looked like she knew exactly what she needed to do. Would just another year and some experience change me too? Would I look the part as an Officer? Akira couldn’t get lost in thoughts for long, soon, it was her time to descend. The ’danger zone’ had been sectioned into smaller regions and then divided into smaller areas, the Acer’s were assigned their spots.

‘Remember only tag and aid the ones with the G.C sanctioned Pro-Body chips.’ 

Most folks in her assigned area had suffered minimal injuries. Additionally, the data from the Pro-Body Chips made the process fairly easy to manage. All she had to do was sync the information of her physical exam, perform basic first aid and update the code accordingly. The exam itself was difficult to conduct initially, but she soon found her rhythm. Then she came up on her very first problem. A woman lay slumped against the wall of an alley, barely conscious. Blood seeped out of her hairline and she issued soft whimpers with every breath. Next to her, crouched a bruised and beaten man. Like a deer caught in headlights, he looked up at Akira fearfully. She approached with caution, “It’s OK… I’m just going to take a look at you two. I’ll tag her and help will arrive shortly. Do you have any serious injuries too?” The man couldn’t have been much older than Akira, he almost draped himself over the woman as he put himself between her and Akira. The Acer paused, “Is there a problem?” His answer was raspy, “We’re not chipped.” It was her turn to recoil in a semi-conditioned response. They were taught to believe that those who were not chipped, were the enemy. Most dissenters who were not G.C registered civilians - that is, chipped and IDed, had already fled the area. This woman seemed incapable of doing so… And Aki couldn’t help but hold a fire in her heart for the young man who chose to stay behind with her. Technically, she needed to report him and potentially the woman, as soon as possible. However, Akira’s prejudice didn’t run as deep as some of the other Acers. She wasn’t trained as young. She saw those who didn’t comply with G.C protocols as people too. There were several back home in Sector 09.  She believed that she was capable of discerning a threat from… those who needed help. And as she came up on that decision, his words sounded like a challenge. Like a dare. This was her area right? She should have some jurisdiction. Enough to at least call this shot. She stood up straighter, convinced that there there was no one around to stop her either way, “She’s not going to make it if I don’t at least take a look… I’ll try get her to-” But there was. There were people here to stop her.

“Cadet. Step away from the fugitives.” Aki was annoyed that they were already labelled fugitives. Unless the man who had spoken had their faces on some docket somewhere. This person recognized her by rank, even without her uniform or ID. She didn’t know him. So, he was likely to be a fellow Acer, but not a colleague. Which could only mean he was a superior. Aki froze. Then she slowly turned to see who’d spoken. He looked like a civilian, but Akira knew how to recognize the bullet-proof fabric. He was likely to be a Major, or higher. A sneer marked his face. It looked like he was waiting to chance upon such an opportunity. And that became more apparent, when he didn’t wait to give Akira a reasonable chance to follow his directive. It seemed like less than a second had passed, and his hands were on hers. His grip was cruel around her wrists as he pinned her arms behind her back.

Akira knew better than to attempt attacking the man on instinct, mostly because, given the discrepancy in their training, she’d have no chance. But, she couldn’t resist the urge to flail and struggle. He twisted her arm with ease, in an attempt to force her to her knees. Defiance, just ran too thick in her blood. So she tried to reason with him through the gritty pain of her arm being wrangled, “Let go!” Needless to say, it didn’t work. Aki was briefly distracted by a lower ranking woman - she had an actual vest on, not the deceptive bullet-proof clothes - probably a Captain. This woman had a rifle levelled at the bruised man in the alley. The man was ordered to peel away from the wall and kneel too. He knew he was caught, so he did what he was told. Aki swore she saw tears glint in his eyes. They rolled off his cheek when the woman’s whimpers stopped. Feeling defeated and deflated as she shared a look with the alleged fugitive and Aki finally fell to her knees. She felt a sharp shooting pain upon impact with the ground, it ran down her leg and up her thigh. She teetered on the uneven cobbled-stone. Her kneecaps continued to protests, they ached and throbbed dully as the procession continued. The Major didn’t stop there, “You should think twice before being disobedient, don’t you know I could slap an insubordination charge on you?” In a swift motion and a brutish tug, he popped her shoulder. Purely to make a point, it would seem. Akira cried out rather boorishly. The Major let go of her and walked away as if nothing had happened. She folded into herself, stifling her groans. Her eyes were clenched shut as she winced in pain and clutched her dislocated arm with the other. The Captain cuffed the man and then kept him there, kneeling at gunpoint. Akira heard the Major making arrangements for the slumped woman to be bagged, as he left.

[bobasheebaby]

ABC of Love- Bastien x Olivia

Pairing: Bastien x Olivia 

Word count: 869

Warnings: angst, fluff

Summary: 4 short drabbles for @cora-nova ABC of Love. @alj4890 requested I do a few of the letters for this pair I hope you like the letters I picked. (Drabbles are 166-203 words in length each)

A/N: I should be working on chapter 4 of these two(it’s almost finished I should buckle down and finish it) but I felt so bad because of WFB I ended up doing these. Mostly fluffy with a smidge of angst thrown in.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, I’m just borrowing them from PB.

A - ANNIVERSARIES

[which holidays they celebrate, how they celebrate the holidays, which events are important to them, birthdays etc.]

“I don’t understand why we have to go out. It’s no big deal, just another day.” Olivia said putting in her earring.

Bastien wrapped his arms around her waist, he locked eyes with her in the mirror as he leaned over, resting his chin on her shoulder. “It’s your birthday it should be celebrated.

Olivia rolled her emerald eyes. “It’s just another day, it’s never been anything special and it doesn’t have to change.” She fought to keep her lip from quivering as she spoke. She hadn’t truly celebrated her birthday since before her parents tried to overthrow Constantine. When she was young she longed to be celebrated the way Liam and Leo were. Even Drake’s small family get togethers were something she envied. She has gotten used to it not meaning anything.

Bastien stood upright kissing her crown, eyes still locked on hers. “Yes it does.”

“Fine.” Olivia said biting back a smile. Maybe it would be nice to be celebrated again. She would try for him. 

E - EXERCISE

[do they like sports, what physical activities they take as a couple, types of sports they love to practice, are they a marathon/yoga couple or extreme/riskier sports are more on their liking etc.]

“This seems familiar.” Bastien laughed looking up at her. His was laying splayed on the mat, Olivia straddling his lap as she stared down at him.

Olivia threw back her head laughing, her eyes crinkling around the edges, he new her emerald eyes were sparkling. “I have to keep you in line somehow.” She quipped smiling at him.

“Is that what you think?” He growled, flipping her easily so he hand her pinned. 

Olivia gasped as his hand ghosted up her side. “It’s what I know.” She replied arching into his touch as his hand caressed her breast. “I also know you love that I take charge.” She hooked her knee over his hip, rotating she rolled him so she was back on top.

“You learned that the first time we trained together didn’t you?” He replied with a laugh. 

“And every time since.” She said leaning down to kiss him. “Maybe that’s why I like training with you so much, you don’t mind being pinned.

K - KIDS

[what are their thoughts regarding to the subject, what types of parents they are, parenting style, how did the days went when they were welcoming their babies into the world and/or into their family, where they stand regarding adoption and other alternative ways of having children etc.]

“Bas, do you want kids?” Olivia questioned glancing up from the nail she was filing. 

Bastien snapped his head to her, steely grey eyes wide in surprise. Do I want kids? The question took him by surprise. He had once dreamed of having a family, but it wasn’t in the cards for him—until Olivia. But the facts remained that he was in his forties and had serious a limp from the homecoming ball shooting. Could he keep up with a child? He’d raised Drake and Savannah from young teens, but it wasn’t the same. “I haven’t thought about it in awhile, but yes.” 

“Good.” Olivia said smiling as she went back to filing her nails.

Good? “Wait, why do you ask now?” He questioned his heart thundering in his chest.

“We’re pregnant.” 

Bastien leapt up, pushing her back into the bed peppering her face with kisses. “I love you Livvy,”

“I take it you’re happy.” She said pushing him back. She was glad he wasn’t freaking out but the kisses where too much. 

“Ecstatic.” 

Y - YELLING

[who’s impulsive/emotional and who’s calm/rational, how often do they argue, who’s the first that offers the olive branch after a fight, are they using sex favors to end/win a heated discussion, what is their fighting fashion, what are the subjects/themes they are mostly debate about etc.]

“I can’t believe that asshat got away with behaving like that at the meeting!” Olivia shouted going to grab her sharpening stone. She was seething with anger that Liam allowed Neville to behave in such a manner and bulldoze them during the meeting. She needed to calm down and the best way she knew how was to sharper her blade. 

“Livvy, I know but you need to calm down.” Bastien replied calmly.

Olivia spun around, her emerald eyes sparkling with rage. “You were there, don’t you think he was out of line?” She said pointing at him with her dagger. “Liam just let him take over instead of shutting him down. I can’t believe the audacity! He really thinks he’s better than the others on the council? That he knows better than we do in our own duchies! To think he thought he could tell me how to run Lythikos!”

“Liam will handle it, you know he won’t get away with it. But you really need to calm down, it’s not good for you.” He replies gesturing at her stomach.

“Fine.” Olivia said taking a deep breath. “But I need to relieve my stress somehow.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Strip.” 

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it. 

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Taglist will be reblogged.

[uhyeahmaybenoidk]

Noorhelm Fanfiction Masterlist

Skam OG (Part 2)

Jules1398

have no doubt in my brotherly love

Mile High Club

She Had the World

Katsja09

Drafts

Friday

Kristian who?

Willy, the Love Guru?

Katsja096

About Time

LivedALie

In which Noora and William really talk about everything

It's just a break, not a break-up

@miasalexander​

bc it’s william’s 22nd birthday and i still have feelings

nighttimesympathies

floodlights

NolaOh

A love song

Evig din, evig min.

Think Twice

@nooranocturna

The Nightmares and Nocturnes on Noora Saetre

Woman Like Me 1, 2

noorasaetre

capsize.

capsize. - extra chapters

noorasaetrress

Fuckin cliche

nooraskam (nooraskam)

A.M. AO3 / wattpad

noorasskam

noorhelm // one shots // norsk + english

@norwegianssweethearts​ (norwegianssweethearts)

12 days of Christmas

21

25 years later

5 times when someone interrupted Noora&William and one time no one did

5 times William talks about Noora and one time he doesn’t need to

Belieber

breathe again

Don’t go. Please.

drunk confessions

genetic lottery

Happy Anniversary Noora and William!

Happy birthday Noora

Happy Birthday, William!

Happy Holidays

Happy New Year AO3 / tumblr 1, 2

Happy William’s day

I can’t believe you talked me into this (William and Eskild)

I’m not wearing that

I really need you

Is that my shirt?

I wish I could hate you (William and Vilde)

Just stay with me

Just the two of us

Kids

lifestyles

Lili

money

Noam

No!

No one needs to know (William and Sana)

Noora opens up

Panic

Parents in town

pets

Please, don’t leave

Please never say or do that again.

princess

relax

romantic gateaway

smoking on the rooftop

Sorry, were you sleeping? + You look really tired.

Sun and Moon

the cabin trip

The Fabulous Four

the hoodie

The paint’s supposed to go where? (William and Eskild)

This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in

Truth or drink

Valentine’s Day

Wait a minute. Are you jealous ?

wanna get married ?

Well, this is awkward…

Who would remember their anniversary

Will you marry me?

YOU DID WHAT ?!  (Noora and P-Chris)

You love me, right?

You’re always number one

You’re the only one I trust to do this. (Noora and P-Chris)

#official

*In the brackets the main characters of the fanfic are indicated but their relationship is not romantic. Noorhelm is mentioned.

NotADragon

Hot Chocolate

PurplexMist (PurplexMist)

All I Need AU // noorhelm & kris kostov AO3 / wattpad

Redrose0912 (RedRose091295)

Broken Pieces AO3 / wattpad

rileyblxu (crownofplanets)

Coming Back Around

@rixwritesskam

The Chaser gets chased 1, 2, 3, 4

r0manogers

19teen

I know the sound of your heart

Soulmates Never Die

sablrhina

illuminate - noorhelm

SaetreNoora

New Years kiss

santiagosmoaks

Noorhelm Drabbles

skamhes

tainted // noorhelm

skamorgan

More than words - William & Noora

SouthsidePrincess32

SKAM♡~William's pov~

SparklingSkies

I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up to No Good

The Escape by Nova

Anywhere You Are // Noorhelm

Left in London // Noorhelm

Noora & William's One Shots // Noorhelm

@theworldisourcliche​ (TheWorldIsOurCliche, Vakkerxx)

271 AO3 / wattpad

Dressed Like That AO3 / tumblr

Guilty As Charged AO3 / tumblr

Here Comes The Queen (The Queen Has Arrived) AO3 / wattpad / tumblr

How are you doing, Robert Langdon?

If Hell Was A Place On Earth AO3 / wattpad / tumblr

Instantly

More Than Words AO3 / wattpad / tumblr

Right Across The North Sea AO3 / wattpad / tumblr 1, 2, 3

Supercuts |Noorhelm|

TotallyTinkerbell

Forever Young

troyesivanphangirl

Thinking About You- Noora And William

witchywillow

Fuck You

Noorhelm Fanfiction Masterlist (OG Part 1)

Noorhelm Fanfiction Masterlist (Remakes Part 1)

Noorhelm Fanfiction Masterlist (Remakes Part 2)

Noorhelm Fanfiction Masterlist (Remakes Part 3)

Noorhelm Fanfiction Masterlist (Remakes Part 4)

[kiddoryder]

Mandarin’s Day Off

A repay drabble for @happyfroglegs enjoy!

It all started when Mandarin was just finishing putting Roland down for a nap. He collapsed on bed and was panting in exhausted.

Mandarin - “Oh...My...that was exhausting.” Then Otto came in and greeted Mandarin. Otto - *cheery* “Hey Mandarin! How are *noticed how tired he looks* Whoa, are you okay? Mandarin - “What make you say that?” Otto - *concern* “Well you look exhausted.” Mandarin - “Well it’s hard to take care of a child. Especially when you are a single parent.” Otto couldn’t help but feel bad for his leader. They sometimes to forget that he’s a mother now with a child and raising it by himself. Then Otto face lit up with an idea.

Otto - *excited* “Hey! Why don’t me and you hang out tomorrow?” Mandarin - “But what about Roland?” Otto - “We can get the others to babysit him. Beside you need this right now I mean you can collapsed at exhaustion. Mandarin - “I guess a break wouldn’t kill me.”

 ()()()()()()()()()

 The next morning, Otto decided to take Mandarin for a walk in Shuggarzoom while the other decide to babysit Roland. The next morning, Otto decided to take Mandarin for a walk in Shuggarzoom while the other decide to babysit Roland. Roland was busy playing in his playpen and looking at the other teams.

Mandarin - “Otto and I are only going out for a few hours. You sure you can handle Roland? Sparks - Of course don’t worry about it, taking care of a baby is easy. All they do is eat is sleep. Basically, taking care of a bowling ball.” Nova - “Yeah a bowling ball that’s move.” Antauri - “Infants are rather tough to take care of Sparks.” Mandarin - “Maybe I shouldn’t go out.” Gibson - “Don’t worry Mandarin we can take care of him. We will call you if there’s any trouble.”

 Mandarin - “Well alright. *to Roland* I need you to be a good boy my little monkey!”

 Mandarin kisses Roland on the head and left to go with Otto.

 ()()()()()()()()

 Otto and Mandarin was just walking around Shuggarzoom. However, they were both quiet as they were both walking in the town and Mandarin was just looking down while walking. Otto then turned around and saw there was a Sushi Restaurant and decided to go there. Then they ordered some sushi and Otto began to eat his food fast like a horse while Mandarin kept eating his food slowly.

Otto - *concern* “You okay Mandarin?” Mandarin - “Huh? I’m fine...” Otto - “You barely touched your food. Please tell me what’s wrong. Is it about Roland?” Mandarin - “It’s just that...Sometimes I feel like I need to be more than the protector.” Otto - “What do you mean?” Mandarin - “I feel honored and love protecting the city but I feel like the government isn’t doing a good job protecting its people.” Otto - “Well...what can they do? I mean they don’t have powers like us.” Mandarin - “Yeah but it could of at least do something. Like shelters, warnings, doing secret weapons, stuff like that. At least try to help occasionally.” Otto - “Huh. I never thought of it like that.” Mandarin - “To be honest, I believe I can make a better ruler than the one we have now. With my leadership, we can protect the city better than ever!”

 Otto - “That’s really cool!”

 Mandarin - “Do you think I could do a better job taking care of the city Otto?”

 Otto - “Actually I- “

 Then there was a call and Mandarin used his “ears” to pick up the call.

 Mandarin - “Hello there?”

 Nova - *while fighting* “Mandarin! We need you and *fights some robots off* Otto to come back! Robots are attacking us!”

 Mandarin - *gasps* “Don’t worry I’ll be right there!”

 Otto - *scared* “What’s going on?”

 Mandarin - “Robots are attacking the team! We gotta go now!”

 Otto - “On it!”

 ()()()()()()()()

 The robots were trying to attack the monkeys, but they were using their powers and weapons to protect themselves and Roland. Roland was scared, yet he felt like he wanted to do something to help and fight. One of the Robots looked at Roland and was stepping closer to him but Antauri use his claws to destroy the Robot.

 Antauri - “Gibson! Take Ronald to the Med Bay, he will be safe!”

 Gibson - “Right!”

Gibson grabbed Roland from the Play Pen and ran toward to Medical Bay. The robots were chasing Gibson in the hallway, but he uses his dart lasers to kill the robots. Ronald whimpers in fear as the robots was still chasing them. Luckily, Gibson quickly made it to the Med Bay room and locked the door, so they wouldn’t get in.

 Gibson - *panting* “Okay...We should be safe.”

 Gibson turned around and saw that Roland was whimpering in fear. Gibson had a sympathy look on his face knowing Roland never witness something like this before. Remembering what Mandarin Roland do whenever was crying or scared, Gibson gave Roland a hug and gently rubbed his back.

 Gibson - “It's going to be okay. We will be safe, and your mother will be here soon.”

 These words calm Roland down remembering that what his mother would say to him. However, he shrieked in fear again as the Robots broke through the door. Gibson quickly put Roland under a desk and went in battle with the Robots. Roland peeked, and to his horror, he saw one of the Robots shocked Gibson with its electric ray and it knocked him unconscious. One of the Robots pick up Gibson and kicked him hard against the wall. Ronald felt a furious feeling inside of him and he ran toward one of the Robots and started to attack and bite and even scratch on the robot’s arm. However, it wasn’t doing that much damage, and just when one of the Robots about to attack, there was a very loud:

 “GET AWAY FROM HIM!!”

 The Robot got destroyed by Mandarin’s sword and he quickly grabbed Roland to safety. He gently put Roland down, and Mandarin along with Otto began to fight the rest of the Robots. Roland watched I’m amazed on how his mother was attacking the robots will all his night with his sword and shield. Seeing this amaze Roland.

 ()()()()()()()

 It was late at night and Mandarin and the team was getting ready for bed. Gibson recovered from his battle but only suffered a broken arm. Before the team went to sleep, Mandarin ordered them to come to the main room and he cleared his voice to say:

 Mandarin - “I decided that I want to take a job in the city council.”

 The team looked surprised at Mandarin choices.

 Nova - “Are you sure you wanna do that Mandarin?”

 Sparks - “Yeah I mean those people are dirty and corrupted. Plus make up these dumb rules.”

 Mandarin - “Which is why I want to join. With me there, we can keep the city even more safe from Skeleton King attack. I mean looked what happened today. Gibson and Roland could have gotten killed. With me in charge, we can help set up security system and weapons.”

 Otto - “I actually agree with Mandarin. I mean these government people are doing a lousy job keeping the city safe. It’s like they expect us to do all the work while they sit on their butts on their cushioned chairs and not doing anything.”

 Gibson - “It does sound like a splendid idea but- “

 Antauri - “I agree with Otto and Mandarin.”

 The team looked at Antauri in surprised.

 Antauri - “Maybe Mandarin in the council would help the city even more. I mean these people also need to learn to defend themselves and not depend on us so much. While we help the city from monsters, they can help us too.”

 Sparks - “Well if you want to do it Mandarin then we will support you.”

 Otto - “We all do.”

 Mandarin was so happy and touched that his friends would help and support his decision.

 Mandarin - “Thank you my friends.”

 He went to Roland’s room and saw Roland is asleep. Mandarin gently patted his head and kiss him goodnight. Roland smiled in his sleep and was still amaze on his family especially his mother is strong and always be there for each other. He hopes that one day, he will fight alongside with them, protect the city and hope one day he will be strong like his mother.

 Hope you like it!

[thecharmingknightemma]

bandit/criminal au in the EF and in this world - about page for mobile

biography/about for Bandit Swan in the Enchanted Forest

AU of an AU where the curse happens but ten years later, and Regina keeps them in the Enchanted Forest while Emma is outside of the dome that surrounds the cursed land, her memories wiped by Rumplestiltskin: one day she will be led back to the kingdom and be their Savior, and that was part of the future he saw for her so he followed it. That and saving the little girl by making a deal, so that she’ll owe him two favors for it: one day he’d come and demand her son, another day when Emma is the Savior and the curse is broken, he’ll demand she’ll reunite him with his son as well. So all she knows is that she was “surely” abandoned around the time the curse hit, was found in beggar’s clothes, that her name is Emma (but she always goes by Swan) and that she has a necklace with a swan on it (which is the only thing he let her keep, a present from the fairies, and the reason why the fairies can recognize her and, at least the ones outside of the dome, help her survive). Only read if you are interested in something new/different from princess Emma. 

in this page:

-personality (important!) -full story in the EF (pick the long or the short one) -short backstory in the EF -other general information (sorta important) -ef verses

-in our world, straight from an about post -our world verses

Personality: She's truly not used to talking much to people unless it’s to buy, sell, steal, sleep with a man or threaten someone. The one version of Emma that is basically a killing machine due to her obsession for revenge and years spent training to be unbeatable, this is the Emma who can absolutely keep up with anyone. After all, after a hell of a hard life she was made to believe that her baby had been taken and likely murdered just to pay her back for stealing food, and that was after being betrayed by the baby’s father as well, so her life is all about killing the people behind it.

Gruff, often angry, very appreciative of money and whatever can get her more money, revenge-driven, but also with her own sense of humor, flirty, sometimes crass; Emma exaggerates how greedy she is, how much she 'doesn't care' about people, except she can't really resist helping if someone is truly good or in trouble, she's confused by kindness and suspicious of it, but loyal to her word, and has felt so much rejection, pain, loss and injustice that she became more cynical and is often in a bad mood, BUT cannot find in herself to be the kind of person who says 'love doesn't exist' or 'love is weakness'. Just because it didn't work for her, doesn't mean it can't be there for others. Flirty, very sexual (even if often it just means fading to black). Children are, naturally, a weak spot, as well as animals. She’ll sleep around for fun (even if I usually fade to black) as long as it’s dark or she can properly keep her face covered, because Regina put a curse on everything that can show her reflection, and any reflective surface will immediately tell her where Emma is, which means that not only she had to change her name into Swan because Emma had to be ‘dead’, but she hasn’t seen her own face in years and has no idea of what she really looks like now. She still wears flowers in her hair, not knowing she picked that from her mother.  

FULL NAME: Emma but no one knows, she goes by Swan. Also known as the Swan Bandit

NOTICEABLE TRAITS: she can never show her face because if a reflection catches it, Regina will find her, so she constantly changes from scarves to masks for her eyes, generally keeps herself covered by a cloak with hood as well, bulky clothes, tall boots, which give the impression she's a tall, big person with a face nearly completely covered and no hair in sight. (Underneath, she still likes to style her hair as *pretty* as possible because she refuses to give that up). A scar over her heart where one of Regina's man started stabbing her.

AGE: 27-28 depending on the thread or older.

GENDER: cis female

ROMANTIC AND SEXUAL ORIENTATION: straight

MENTAL ILLNESSES: PTSD at the very least.

FULL VERSION OF THE BIO

Emma's story. You can skip this and go to the short bio, but don't skip the other points, please.

Instead of sending the whole Enchanted Forest in a world without magic, the curse hits only part of it and keeps everyone where they are, trapping them inside its limits forever, unable to age and to have a happy ending, giving them fake memories and making Regina the only queen that they can remember. This happens when princess Emma is ten and it's when the curse is coming that she meets Rumplestiltskin for the first time: the Dark One takes her away, out of the barrier, right before she's trapped with everyone else. Emma asks him for help, wanting to save her family, and a deal is struck: in exchange for his help she will owe him two favors: she accepts and her memories of her life at the castle are taken away. For the next seven years Emma is a thief, a lost girl with the same hopeful spirit that runs in her family, until she gets pregnant and engaged and uses the money she gained in the previous years to found them a home and start doing more 'honorable jobs' with her fiancé Arian. It's a month after giving birth to Harry that the Dark One shows up again for the first favor she owes him, demanding her first-born son, saying he will bring him to Queen Regina because she wants her baby. With her son stolen because of a bargain that she barely remembers, Emma makes her life-mission to find a way to break the barrier that keeps her out of the cursed kingdom and take him back, possibly killing Rumplestiltskin and Regina in the process.

She knows she still owes him one favor and that is likely to cost her her life.

Between spending her life mostly alone - a thief is never seen as anything more than a thief, no matter how kind she was - and not remembering having a family, especially because Rumplestiltskin left her alone after taking her memories and led her to believe she had been abandoned, losing her son was the last straw that made her lose all hope. She kept to only steal from the rich, trying to be honorable, living in the same house she had been able to share with her baby for a month but not feeling like the same person anymore. All she knew was that it had been her fault too, it had all started the day when she had stolen apples from one of Regina's carriages. It was a year before losing her child and, again, the Dark One led her to believe that that was the reason why Regina wanted her dead. Not only that but the man she had chosen, she had trusted, the father of her baby was quick to run away without them, telling the Dark One where she was going to hide with the baby because too scared, betraying them right before they could find refuge in the fairies' territory. (The fairies know who Emma is, Nova is her godmother and in charge now that Blue is trapped, but Rumplestiltskin threatened to kill Emma if they told her before it was time, so they help her as much as they can while trying to keep the Enchanted Forest from falling apart)

By now Emma has almost forgotten how to be around people unless she needs to make an exchange or wants to have some fun with a man for a night, she has not many social skills left nor she cares about finding new friends. If anything, she doesn't want anyone to be attached to her nor she wants to have feelings. She just wants to take her son back, away from Regina, and get him to safety before the Dark One will show up again for the next 'favor'.

What really happened back then was that Rumplestiltskin told the queen that he had met Emma, the daughter of Snow, and that he refused to kill her because they had a deal. He suggested Regina to ask him to take the baby away from Emma instead because Emma owed him her first born, and then Regina would be free to destroy Emma on her own if she wanted. With this, he made sure that Emma would always try to sneak inside the kingdom and eventually succeed when twenty-eight, and that Regina would pay for trying to trap him inside of the cursed kingdom after changing the curse that he had given her, the curse he had needed to get to Baelfire. Now he will wait until the curse is broken before asking Emma to tell her son to follow him inside the enchanted wardrobe and help him find Baelfire - so that Henry will follow him to avoid his birth-mother's death. Meanwhile, the queen has been told a little too late that killing Emma would break the curse and while she doesn't want her man to take her heart anymore, she wants them to capture her so that she can curse her and make sure she'll never break it. She grew to love Henry as a son and doesn't want to risk losing him. At the present she has no idea that she and the Swan Bandit are the same person. She looks for her with her mirrors, which is why Emma covers herself from head to toe, and everything is going the way Rumplestiltskin wanted, different curse or not. Here is a drabble with the day when she lost Harry, who became Henry after Regina took him.

SHORT BIO

From her point of view, she has no memory of who she was from before she found herself wandering in the forest alone, in beggar clothes and about to starve until the fairies found her; she thinks she has been abandoned around the time when the curse hit because nobody looked for her and she was too far from the barrier to have escaped on her own. She only has the swan necklace as a hint of who she was and remembers that her name is Emma. She also remembers that she made a deal with Rumplestiltskin before her loss of memories but she doesn't know what she got in exchange for the two favors that she owes him since then. She is a thief and when she turned seventeen she had a son with a fellow thief named Arian, settling down in a village that was being kept hidden by the same fairies that had saved her life in the woods; a month after giving birth to "Harry" Rumplestiltskin showed up and demanded to take the baby so that he could bring him to Regina, telling Emma that the queen wanted him because of "what she was"; Emma had stolen apples from one of her carriages right before getting pregnant and therefore had to believe that the reason why Regina took her baby and later sent men to kill her was because of those apples.

Emma now wants both of them dead, possibly together with her former 'lover' as well, because her fiancé was the one who told Rumplestiltskin where to find her right before she could hide herself and the baby in the cave that the fairies occupied near her village. Of course she also wants her kid back, even if she knows that it won't last long because she still owes Rumplestiltskin one favor. She has no hope left, which is why she has already asked to the fairies, to Nova, to take the kid with them once Rumplestiltskin will come back for the second favor.

She'll also be an ally of any person who wants them dead.

Regina cursed every reflection so that she'll know where Emma is as soon as a glimpse of her face will be caught by one, so Emma had to abandon her identity and name and start covering her face and going by "Swan". At the moment, she's looking for a way to break in the cursed kingdom, which is nothing but half of the Enchanted Forest kept hidden from sight by a barrier, with inside all the royals and people that lived there and now don't remember who they are. Time has stopped and only Regina can leave as she pleases, though she keeps controlling her soldiers who are left outside through the mirrors - and is waiting for them to find Emma and bring her where she can hurt her. The rest of the forest, without the many royals who were for a reason or another trapped away, fell into chaos, divided in little towns under the control of whoever was strong enough to take it, and is starting to forget how life was before.

OTHER GENERAL INFORMATION

She often has what sounds like a Southern accent from our world because of the places she has visited, accent that disappears when she has her walls down. It's mostly used on purpose to be as different from the "Emma" that she knows Regina is looking for as possible.

She sleep thirty minutes every four hours.

She always wears her swan necklace. It was a gift from the Blue Fairy and kept her from forgetting her name. Also, she has a necklace with her engagement ring as a pendant. She also wears flowers in her hair (like her mother) and has one of her father’s swords (the latter thanks to Nova)

Emma's weakness are kids. She'll pretend not to like them like she pretends not to like everyone else or at least try to do that, but not for long and not believably. Not even the kids take her seriously. Same goes for pets.

She loves food with passion (and cooking it). Especially chocolate and strawberries. Also dresses and weapons. But mostly food. She really doesn’t appreciate to find that people are surprised when she shows to like dresses and feminine accessories.

She has a scar on her chest, over her heart. It’s very noticeable and she tends to hide it with her clothes in every way she can.

The animals of the forest still recognize her as a princess (and friend of fairies thanks to her necklace) and treat her as such, responding to her singing too. Especially swans.

bandit Emma verses

v. Swan bandit: for general verses about her bandit years including her time in the cursed kingdom

v. bandit princess: for verses after the curse is broken 

IN OUR WORLD

The backstory for our world is still a work in progress. It exists but I haven't had the time to put it properly into words, just to play it, so I'll write here the first draft, straight from one of my posts:

Not long after she's born, Emma's parents are forced to give her up by Regina, and then Regina makes it so that every time she’s fostered it’s by abusive families, so Emma keeps either reacting with violence and escaping or just escaping and living in the streets as a child too, and manages to personally get in trouble with Regina in her teens because she’s already a good fighter for obvious reasons, as well as a thief.

She slips away from Regina’s watch then just long enough to be taken in by the Swans (Elsa, Anna and their parents) when 14, stays there more or less three years, the first years of a healthy life, gets pregnant, runs away with Arian, the boyfriend, to protect everyone and the baby from Regina, Arians rats her out when caught and scared, she gets her baby taken and is made believe that he was killed by Regina, when in reality Regina took him in as a son. She also left Emma to die, but she survived the gunshot and wounds and fire, escaped because she wanted to avenge her baby before letting herself die.

And then Emma spends the next ten years becoming an amazing thief/mercenary/fighter and looking for a way to kill Regina.

And then she finds her parents because they have a whole organization going, with people screwed over by Regina, and it’s a happy accident but she’s also very confused about how to feel and what to do over that, and THEN finds out Henry is alive and it changes her life and plans. She finally takes him back, only doesn’t kill Regina for Henry but has her arrested, uses the resources she has to clean up her records, to have a new identity, not that she was ever caught, and ends up living with her son and parents and trying to learn how to be A PERSON

with Henry she’s sweet and patient and the mother she wanted to be, but with everybody else? She never learned how to communicate properly, left her friends when she was seventeen to never have any again, is rude, she is aggressive, has big anger issues, loses patience easily and can be insensitive when she does even when it’s not on purpose, lots of petnames also because she doesn’t pay attention to names or people or what people say, believes in being fair so she can be extra judgy when she thinks someone isn’t, might sleep around a lot but god knows she’s not one to stay and have pillow talk, is kind to animals and children because they are innocent, is unsure of what’s even appropriate to say, only does favors for money, until she gets Henry doesn’t want anyone to be close to her because she intends to die when she kills Regina, after Henry she TRIES to be more social and to learn how to be around people.

verses:

v. in the system: threads about her life up until she gets pregnant and runs away. Including life with the Swans or changing depending as needed.

v. mother in hiding: threads about her life while hiding either pregnant or after Henry is born (Arian is there when he can, but also works best he can). They are hiding in a forest in Utah, near places where hunters go stay every now and then.

v. the angry swan: threads set after Henry is taken from her and seemingly killed; she's living as a criminal and doing everything she can to find a way to kill the powerful Regina. 

 v. I found you: threads set from the moment she finds out either Henry or her parents are alive, and include everything that happens after that.

[mommavanillabear]

Voltron Gem AU Drabble

When a spark of life takes form, the results are uniquely beautiful. Whether the beauty is of soft pearls, or even hardened Diamonds, once the spark is alive all that is left to be done is to bury it where it can be nurtured. Where it can grow…

Where it can emerge.

Deep under the planet's’ crust sparks of life were planted in beautiful gem casings, each emerging in time, each following the rules of nature to emerge together, each perfect in the way they were designed to be. It was coded in the very spark themselves on how they were supposed to be, each emerging with information of their ranking in the world around them and their roles that they were to fill without question or hesitation. One does not speak out of turn, one does not require more than what they are given or needed. One must be perfect. To be anything else meant that they are...

Defected.

If a spark of life is planted too deeply, or not deeply enough, a defect can happen. If a spark of life is encased in a faulty gem, a defect could happen.

If a spark of life is more than what it is supposed to be, a defect will happen.

Defects were not kept alive long, either snuffed out of existence the moment they emerge or used for other purposes. No matter the flaw, a defect is a defect, and misery would ensnare its life.

The air was frigid in the temple of ice like stone, the very surface of the temple pure and unbroken, beautiful and radiant with hints of blues and whites, reflecting the light off of them like crystals, dazzling in its simplistic way. The temple of the Blue Diamond court sat high up in the mountain like terrain where soldiers and council members worked and kept their distances from the rest of the other courts, only interacting with the world when absolutely needed. To be a soldier quartz meant fighting and protecting the temple, their lives created only to protect and fight, most heading off to other planets on missions just to use their weapons and fight.

Home world was too quiet for them.

To be a member of the Blue Diamonds court meant grace and beauty, each gem designed to look a certain way and to follow orders, bowing and performing for their diamonds whenever they were called upon, some going as far as to remain by their sides, to climb up the ranks if only to have the chance to be considered amongst the elite.

The very diamond in charge herself was a tall and beautiful creature, her body the color of the sky in morning, her hair a translucent white that reflected the light very much like her diamond. She was beautiful and perfect in her ways, a true diamond through and through, hailing from the first era. All whom gazed upon her respected her, adored and loved her.

Which in turn, meant they had to love him as well.

The defective diamond that sat in the shadows and watched the world under a translucent blue veil whilst his quartz soldier stood close by, stealing quick glances and lingering touches, if only to calm the diamond of his nerves. The defective diamond, though not nearly as tall as the other rulers, was a bit taller than most in the court, standing a good foot taller than as his Topaz, his body thin and tapered. His skin was colored a pale blue, his hair short, white, and choppy despite being told to change it- it made him feel unique despite others thinking it just added to the fact that he was defective. The diamond on his belly was accentuated by the dark blue one piece that clung to him like a second layer,white patched in the front, a thin sheer veil hanging over his eyes. Most days, when not in the court’s presence he covered his diamond and let the veil off, choosing to be called  a name of his own choosing rather than his title.

The topaz that doubled as both his protection and friend was just a bit shorter than the diamon by a mere foot, built tall and sturdy, limbs thick and chest broad, his own skin a butter brownish yellow, his hair dark and tied back by a blue ribbon he wore across his forehead, his uniform that of a normal quartz with a blue diamond emblazoned on his chest. It was with no doubt that the Topaz belonged solely to the defective diamond, their presences always intermingled, their friendship ignored rather than dealt with. After all, no one had time for two gems pushed aside and ignored, only called upon when needed.

To strengthen their friendship the defective diamond gaze his topaz a name.

Together they were Lance and Hunk, two gems whom wanted nothing more than to leave, to travel the galaxy for exploration and wonderment rather than war and conquer.

Where the other gems were content with their roles in life, Lance and Hunk wanted more. To explore and experience rather than simply read or learn through others.

The first chance they got to leave the Court of blue they did, sneaking out during the time the Blue Diamond had left to council with the other proper Diamonds, leaving Lance to his own devices. With silent footsteps befitting of a diamond, followed by muffled heavier steps, the two of them inched from the main halls, avoiding the quartz that stood guard, slipping past to get inside the hangar where the vessels were located, all locked tight and awaiting orders, varying in colors and size, save for the one at the very end. The ship had been designed for Rubies and smaller quartz of the courts, the ship sleek and more compact compared to the fleet ships that rested in the hanger. It was the perfect chance for an escape, with the courts being in session and the Amethysts having made their rounds for the evening, there was no one left to check the large cluttered hanger. Glancing about the empty spaces between the crafts with cautious blue and yellow eyes the two gems began their course of action, blending and shifting against the shadows to keep hidden, aware that one wrong step could land them both poofed, or worse, if they were caught with intent of escaping or possible treason.

“I don’t know about this my diamond, what if we get caught?” The Topaz whispered,stopping just short of reaching out to touch his beloved diamond, eyes dropping to avoid Lance’s concerned face, not wishing to see the look of unease or sadness.”I would be shattered, that would be fine, but you? I don’t want you getting harmed.”

Reaching out the diamond tilted the Topaz’s chin up, the blue hushing softly, soothing the yellow gem before him with a warm smile that hinted at promises. “We are in this together, no matter what. We made a promise a hundred years ago that we would leave, and i am not about to give up our dream. Just a little further and soon we won’t have to worry about who’s a diamond or such technicalities. Just stay with me a little further more.”

Giving a nod the Topaz  continued to fall behind his diamond, the gem on his left hand glowing once they approached the ruby ship-it was true they were not rubies, however with Topaz’s held for their flexibility and resourcefulness, they were granted permission to open up nearly all quartz ships, this one being no different, the door sliding open slowly, yellow hued lights flickering slowly to life. The inside of the ruby ship was small, basic with just enough space for smaller gems to feel comfortable. With a barely withheld sigh Lance forced himself to shift down, his long legs and arms shortening, his blue diamond gem hidden on his belly whilst he slipped his veil back. Turning to the Topaz he smiled, no longer towering over the other but coming up just barely to his chin. Motioning for the topaz to close the door the diamond headed to a small control panel, his eyes widening at the different keys and panels integrated together; being a diamond he had never had to worry about such  trivial tasks, such as learning to maneuver crafts, it had always been either a ruby’s job or a peridot. Gazing at the controls he bit down on his bottom lip, glancing to his Topaz.

“Do you know how to fly this thing, Hunk?” The diamond whispered, eyes widening at hearing a voice from under the first layer of the ship, most likely the inhabitants were down in the control room rather than the ship being vacant as they thought.

“Hey, who’s up there?!”

“No time, button press, now!” The Topaz panicked, slamming his hand down upon the control panels before two figures could ascend the stairs, the sudden speed that the ship took off causing the Topaz and diamond to topple over and slide about, a loud crashing of metal against metal heard until the ship leveled out, the red metal visor slipping down to reveal the windshield, and with it a inky black space that was scattered with blurred stars.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” A male voice snapped, belonging to a ruby that stood with his arms crossed, his black hair falling into his eyes- it took the diamond a moment to realize it was called a ‘mullet’ style, one that many Rubies wore. The Ruby wore a simple one piece suit, a yellow diamond symbol on his chest. The Ruby looked less than pleased. “A topaz and a- what are you?”

“He’s a-”

“I’m a water gem!” The diamond piped up, thankful his gem was hidden by a layer of clothing, his face losing most of its color before he could calm down. “I’m a Lapis Lazuli.”

“Huh, I wasn’t aware Lapis’s and Topaz got along.” A female voice called out, a much smaller gem approaching to stand by the Ruby, a Peridot from the looks of it, the girl wearing a pair of green tinted glasses and her hair cut short and choppy. The Peridot tapped her chin in thought, examining them both closely before glancing to the controls, her eyes widening. “Just where do you think you were going?!”

“Anywhere but HomeWorld.” The diamond scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Hey, what’s a Ruby and a Peridot doing together, thought you gems disliked each other.”

“Well, I suppose like you, we’re trying to leave HomeWorld too.” The Peridot replied, her back turned to them, swiping her fingers quickly, the ship slowing down. “We’re defect’s I guess you could say. Call me Pidge, I’m a peridot from the Nova galaxy.”

“And i’m Keith.” The Ruby’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you want to leave homeworld so bad? And Blue Diamond members at that, aren’t you all supposed to be pampered gems?”

It took all of Lance’s will power not to freeze the ruby where he stood- didn’t keith realize all diamonds were dictators? Blue diamond being no better. “You’re wrong, blue diamond is just as controlling as the rest of them. We left in hopes of finding our own court… names? You guys go by names?”

“Got a problem with that?” Keith growled, gauntlet forming.

“Of course not!” Hunk was quick to pipe in, an arm wrapping around Lance. “I’m Hunk, this is Lance, we’re defects too!”

Despite the Ruby’s suspicious gaze the Peridot smiled softly, shaking her head with a laugh. “Well too late to judge now, Home World will find out were missing any time now, and unless you want to explain why we left, it looks like we’re traveling together.”

“You can’t be serious! Pidge, we don’t know anything about them!” Keith snapped, his arms crossing over his chest once more, eyeing the blue gem suspiciously.

“Do you want to be shattered?” Pidge asked simply, annoyance clear in her eyes, her tone holding no room for argument. “No? Didn’t think so. Just keep your gem cool, I’ll take over the controls,  I may not be a ruby but that there isn’t a ship I can’t fly, I simply need to veer us somewhere Home World hasn’t conquered yet, how hard can it be?”

Sitting down with a sigh Keith gazed over at the Topaz and diamond, running a hand through hair. “So, Hunk, Lance, tell me why you decided to  steal my ship.”

Lance could feel a bead of sweat forming,wincing at the way Keith spoke. He hadn’t realized this had been keith’s ship...

AN:

Literally was bored and wanted to write out something for my headcanons of the whole Voltron Gem AU.

[mslanna]

Sara Ryder Meme or Something

I was tagged by @pinkcatpaw

Put my own (verbose) spin on it by answering everything with a tiny drabble...

I don’t even know who to tag who wasn’t already tagged? So all ye MEA luvlies following me consider yourself tagged if ye weren’t already. Show me your Ryders! :D

1. So, the basics! Name? Preferred nickname, if any?

Sara.

She had never felt any special connection her name. It was just that. Her name. She couldn’t imagine having another but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t feel exactly the same if the parents had decided to call her Vanessa.

But it was different when SAM said it. It felt significant. She was Sara. Not the Pathfinder, not Ryder, not her father’s daughter even. She was Sara and that in itself made her important. To SAM. Probably to Scott as well. It was a feeling of identity she didn’t know she had been missing.

“Thank you SAM,” she said, wondering if it was similar for the AI and if they knew how it made her feel.

“You’re welcome,” they replied. “Sara.”

She smiled. They knew alright.

2. What was their first impression of Nexus leadership?

Well now that was a downer. The whole of the Nexus leadership was not planning to help her out. After all she was Pathfinder for a whooping 7 hours or what already? No problem, she had it down. No need to interfere with her plans. Here, take the ship and go. And don’t mess it up or we’ll all die.

Sara couldn’t enjoy the view of the Tempest with those thoughts running through her head on repeat. Was a little more advice or guidance too much to ask? Or had none of them gotten their head out of their arse since their arrival. In a way, she was a mirror to them all – come into responsibilities they were not prepared for by a long shot.

That didn’t have to mean you bungled it automatically though. Even if most of them seemed ready to prove this at any cost.

3. Who are they closest to on the Tempest?

“Trouble, kid?” Drack rarely came up to the vidcon table. Nobody it. So Sara used it as a refuge in plain sight when she wanted to be alone but not really be alone.

“Yeah,” she sighed, making unnecessary room at the table as an invitation.

Drack took it. His bulk right next to her felt like a bulwark against everything; a small cone of safety in a galaxy that had none.

“You had nothing but since you arrived,” Drack said. “What’s different now?”

Sara sighed again. How was he so observant? Was is raising Kesh?

“A man, right? Or a woman? Someone?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You should have seen Kesh when she realised she liked Vorn.” Drack laughed. “That squishy piece of brains and she fell for him anyway.”

“Well, humans are all squishy, so-”

“A human, then,” Drack interrupted her. “Interesting.”

“Why?” Sara asked almost offended. “Do I look so thrill-hungry that I wouldn’t take anything but the newest adventure? Did you expect to run off with Jaal or something?”

“He likes you,” Drack just replied.

“I know.” Sara sighed again. Half her vocabulary seemed to be sighs. A thing to sigh about all on its own. “It’s Reyes.”

Drack broke out into laughter, clapping her back.

“It’s not funny,” Sara said. “He’s shady at least. That he works against Sloane is nice but not a redeeming quality in and of itself. And-”

“And you like him anyway.” Drack finished laughing.

“I do.” She smiled when she admitted it. What could she do? And Drack seemed to think it funny.

“Be careful, kid,” he said. “He is shady. Don’t get blind-sided into crap. And if you do – bring me. I’ll teach him some manners.”

That was an image Sara would treasure. “Will do, Drack. Thank you.”

“Any time, kid.”

They stared ahead in shared silence.

4. How did they react to becoming Pathfinder?

If there was anything worse than losing your father to your own incompetence it was probably inheriting his job contrary to any sense and procedure. Plus a headache.

“I apologise for the headache,” SAM said in her head. It didn’t improve the pain but at least she knew where it came from. “I am adjusting to your physiology. Your hormone levels differ from Alec’s significantly, as does the general make-up of your brain.”

How nice to know that you were your own person. Probably. Why did she have to be Pathfinder? The transfer worked through half a galaxy; Cora had been right there! Sara was ready to curse her father. It wasn’t a new urge but now it was somewhat dampened by him being dead. It was not proper to curse the dead.

Even if they were the most selfish, block-headed, distant, thoughtless tit you could think of. Why would he do that to her? Arriving in Heleus had been difficult enough, nothing looked like promised. And now it was her job to make everything work. Everything!

How could he ever think this was a good idea? What did she have that Cora did not? The other way round, Sara could come up with a very long list of relevant abilities to being a Pathfinder. She only had herself and – well.

Sara put her head in her hands. Two hours was not long to come to grips with her new role. On the other hand, all she had to do was get herself killed to move the role of Pathfinder back where it belonged. That didn’t sound too difficult.

5. How is their relationship with their family?

If somebody had told her a day ago that the last thing she saw before almost dying was her father sacrificing his own life for her, Sara would have laughed. She would still laugh if only to avoid crying.

Alec Ryder had been distant, even when Ellen had tried to bridge the chasm. It had not worked. The awkward family reunion dinner was only one proof in an endless row. Alec Ryder cared about the success of his children, their careers, their progress, the mark they made for themselves. There was always a measuring edge in his eye when he looked at you. And frankly, most of the time you felt you did not measure up.

Having him die so she could live did not really convince Sara of the opposite. If she had measured up, if she had been the daughter he wanted, she would not have brought him into such a situation. The Sara Ryder he had wanted, would have found a way to let them both survive.

It didn’t explain his last actions. But Alec Ryder had always been distant. Who could hope to understand his motives?

6. Did they have any other personal reason for coming to Andromeda?

Nope.

7. Do they have any scars? What’s the story of how they got them?

Yes, but they’re purely for my personal aesthetic so no story behind them.

8. What do they usually do to relax?

“What do you mean this doesn’t count?” Sara looked around. They had just mowed through the huge kett facility north west of Prodromos. She felt pretty good.

“It’s not relaxing is all I’m saying,” Liam insisted.

“I consider it relaxing,” Sara replied. “Feeling really relaxed now.”

“But what do you do to wind down? Kick back? Calm down?”

“You mean like slowing down until your head starts to think thoughts?” Sara winced. “I don’t do that. I know why, trust me. Better like this.

She scanned the battlefield once more. Only dead kett and the first of the Initiative people come to take what they could use in Prodromos. The colony was floating on enough blood to tide the Armada. So did everything the Initiative had built. And the Pathfinder was their spear- and figurehead. No, she would not slow down to think. Not ever.

9. Do they have a favourite planet?

“We can’t even live there yet!” Liam said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sara replied with a happy grin. “It’s called after me, so it’s my favourite now! Ryder-I. I like it.”

She looked down at the storm covered planet. It would take years to terraform it manually. She would certainly never see it viable enough to buy a home down three. But it was a legacy. The garden she would never see in bloom.

“I like it,” she repeated to herself.

10. Do they have an LI? What is their ideal date with them?

“I don’t think this counts as a date.”

“What?” Reyes spread his arms in surprised hurt. “There is music-”

“Cicadas of doom.”

“A romantic fire-”

“We blew up an Outcast outpost.””There is even-”

“If you suggest that the burnt flesh of our enemies makes for a nice picnic, I’ll scream.”

“Of course I brought provisions,” Reyes replied still pulling off the hurt act.

“For what?” Sara asked exasperated. “In case we had to starve them out?”

“I see how it is,” he said. “Let me – just allow me.” He took her arm and led her away from the flaming wreck that had once been an Outcast stronghold.

Sara let herself be led away. She was not angry per se. Fucking shit up with Reyes fun. Winding down afterwards was even more fun. Or at least fun in a more satisfying way. But calling the razing of an Outcast base a date was taking it a little too far.

They climbed a small hill and on the other side lay a string of springs, some steaming, some throwing an insane amount of bubbles, some lying still like dark blue crystals. Reyes walked straight towards them.

“I could not risk having the Outcast disrupt out date, could I now?” He grinned slyly. “And I know you get so high strung fighting. You need a safe way to blow off steam.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulled her into an embrace. “I hope you forgot your bathing suit, yes?”

11. What is their preferred fighting style?

“Sara don’t...”

She didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. With an excited grin, Sara charged into the group of kett jumping from the incoming shuttle. Then she scattered them with a Nova and turned to find the nearest target with her flame-thrower activated. That took down another enemy.

Still ginning Sara pumped a load from he shotgun into the closes Chosen before charging away again. The Anointed never had a chance, stumbling under he impact the full force of her krogan hammer smashed him into pulp. Scanning the immediate surroundings, Sara cam up with absolutely zilch kett. What a pity.

Then the noise of another incoming shuttle caught Sara’s attention. This party was far from over.

12. Finally, did they bring anything important with them from the Milky Way?

“Scott!”

Sara didn’t slow down until she had her arms locked firmly around her brother, almost keeling him over. He was alive. He was alive. He was really, really alive.

“Whoa there, big sister.” He returned the hug as intense. “You might think I was dead or something.”

“You almost were, you idiot.” She sat down next to him, checking for any signs of hurt.

“Wouldn’t dream of infringing on your territory.” He laughed but it was uneasy.

“I promised my doc I’d stop dying.” Sara looked at her hands. “Also, I can’t leave my little brother alone in this nasty new galaxy.”

Silence fell and Sara leant against her brother. He felt so real it was painful. She really coudn’t imagine being stranded in Heleus without him. She’d be more alone h´than ever, friends and lover or no. Nobody could ever replace Scott.

“Do you want to know how dad died?” Sara finally asked.

“Later,” Scott replied. “Let’s just,” he hesitated, “you’re here.”

“Yeah.” Sara closed her eyes. She was here. And so was he – finally.

[pyromouse]

observations

[drabble somewhat based on the past verse thread with @carnivorarium​. just felt like writing some background/vaguely science stuff. idk if my formatting will work well with tumblr though :x this got kinda long but might be part 1/?? ]

USERNAME: R.CROSS PASSCODE: ******* … ACCESS GRANTED! OBSERVATION LOG: SUBJECT 88

1.0.1.

A few of us were put in charge of the new addition, seeing as Dr. Crowell is often preoccupied with 78. An exciting opportunity - none of us have ever seen a psion up close before. I’ll be keeping the group’s notes. Some initial observations: small for their age, which we estimate is 13 or so. Eyes and hair lacking any pigment. Somewhat nearsighted. Temperature is elevated, but does not appear ill in any other way. Identifying marks include two tattoos (right hand and collarbone), burn mark (left shoulder), surgical scarring along back, and marking at both wrists which lead us to believe restraints may be a necessity. There is an implant over the right ear. Some kind of inhibiting device, it emits a frequency to suppress 88’s power. We’re leaving it set to 100% suppression for now. On first meeting, 88 was argumentative and distrustful. Refused to sit still for most exams, shied away from most contact with us. Owen touched the implant to get a better look and they immediately flinched and tried to punch him. Supposedly their volatile temper has been a constant issue for Nova. Dr. Reyes is sending a follow up email with further notes for us. 88’s been taken to their assigned room for the night. Guards in that hall reported hearing thumps for an hour after, as if the door were being kicked. Persistent, if nothing else.

1.1.2

Owen’s lost clearance for interacting with the psion. Earlier today we took 88 to the imaging room. Had to strap them down to get them in the machine at all, and the first few brain scans came back disappointingly empty. Lynn suggested the implant might be causing interference. In a stunning display of idiocy, Owen set it to 0. 88’s reaction was swift and violent. The machine lurched to the side. Everything not nailed down rocketed towards the walls as if an explosion propelled them. Later we found some of the sturdier tools embedded half an inch deep. Luckily we were behind plexiglass, and Lynn had quick enough reflexes to snatch the remote away from Owen. Still, in that short span of time 88 managed to destroy a hideously expensive machine from inside it. Now I can see why Nova is so interested. The power in that unassuming body is phenomenal. We were unsure what disciplinary measures their old handlers used (email Reyes re: this). For tonight we’ve sent 88 to isolation without daily rations.

1.2.5

We’re leaving 88’s inhibitor around 90-95%. It should be enough to track brain activity while only allowing minimal use of their psionics. Been observed creating small sparks in their hands or moving small objects, but nothing that can’t be contained easily.  

1.3.1

Been in correspondence with Reyes. Summarizing: -88 is a pet project of her superior, Dr. Jun. Meant to be an adaptable, thinking weapon. -We told her of this week’s debacle. She offered to send us the scans they on file so we don’t have to risk our equipment again. -When asked about discipline: “Avoid leaving any permanent damages, please. A broken bone is fixable, but a loss of limb is an inconvenience for us.” So there’s our clearance, I suppose. Reyes did add that 88 has a particular disdain for enclosed spaces.

1.5.5

88’s allotted rest periods have lined up with 78’s. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence. Crowell’s watching 78 for something. Maybe the psion too.

1.6.2

Excuse the unprofessional language, but 88 is a pain in the ass to work with. Their adamant refusal to comply with tests slows our work to a crawl. I’m fairly sure they’re failing tests on purpose. Owen says maybe they’re just dumb as a sack of bricks. He’s still bitter about the imaging incident, I think.

1.7.3

88 and 78 met in the courtyard again today. Turns out 88 has a mood other than angry scowl or suspicion. They express curiosity and try to engage him. 78 is normally quiet, at least in my experience seeing him, but we’ve noticed him responding in his own little ways. Whenever they meet there’s mutual concern for the other’s injuries, brief reassurance, and quiet chatter. It almost humanizes them, these monsters with the faces of children. If i hadn’t seen what each subject was capable of… Riley wonders if 88’s attachment to the other can be used as leverage. It’s a thought.

1.9.1

Riley’s idea worked for a while. 88 was told that if they did not complete the day’s tests then 78 would be reprimanded. We expected there might be a protest; the psion demanded to see him. Lynn was prepared for this. She’d pulled some audio clips from 78’s files. As soon as the recorded cry was played into the room, 88’s face went white. They held up their hands and walked back towards the testing area of their own accord. I almost never thought I’d see that iron will of theirs crack. Finally, some proper testing results: Sharp reflexes. Lacking in physical power (not like they need it, I guess). Reading level adequate for their age, demonstrates creative problem-solving skills, but struggles with math and science. Some memory issues. My thoughts: 88 is not dumb as a brick. Just incredibly stubborn.

1.11.3

The jig is up, as they say. 78 was allowed out during 88’s scheduled break. The psion just about took him down with a bearhug despite their smaller stature. All it took was a quiet discussion for 88 to work out that we had lied and he was never in any danger. They’re back to refusing or playing dumb. I wonder if Crowell would permit us to test both subjects at the same time. Could yield some interesting results for the both of us.

LOG END. RETURN TO DIRECTORY? Y/N

[chargenovasmash]

Six Drink Sara (Pt. 3)

(Yet ANOTHER installment handcrafted by the ever-brilliant @pathfindersemail and myself, featuring Sarianna Ryder, Puck, and a whole lot of nausea and exhaustion.  It’s long, ~2800 words, but it’s cute, and there’s no puking this time.)

Pathfinder, the morning shift is beginning.

Sara’s half-embarrassed realization that SAM had never needed to say those words to her before was quickly overtaken by intense throbbing pressure in her head.  No amount of burying her face in pillows would alleviate the intense pain she should have expected, if she was being completely honest with herself, from last night’s attempt to escape an entirely different kind of pain.  With the sort of heavy groan one gives when their body fully refuses to cooperate, Sara managed to spill off of the bed like a viscous fluid.  She jammed the heels of both hands into her forehead as she rose to her feet far more quickly than she should have, sucking the air around her in through gritted teeth.

The decently low lighting of the Tempest’s lower deck felt garishly bright as Sara staggered out of her quarters, still groaning, hugging the wall and using one hand as a visor.  Someone already had coffee on in the galley; a straight walk there and back was all the pathfinding she felt up to in her current condition. 

“Well.  You look like hell.”

Normally, the silken flange of Vetra Nyx’s voice was a comfort - a relief, even.  Now, it served only to increase the tempo of the pulsing ache in her head, and it didn't help that Sara knew the turian’s observation was an objective truth.

“Thanks,” she huffed, carefully turning to face her friend and forcing her eyes into a glower she hoped appeared more unamused than completely miserable.

“Rough night?”

“You could say that.”

Vetra breathed an amused chuckle, and offered Sara a cup of coffee.  “How much did you drink?”

“Too much.”  The aroma swept into her nose as she cradled the Initiative-branded mug in her hands, and for just a moment she felt a bit of the shifting in her stomach ease.  Just a bit, though.  

“Ugh, I don't ever want to even see alcohol again.”

“I'll tell Liam to hide his beer stash, then.”

The laughter came before Sara was ready for it, and the lingering queasiness returned soon after.  A quick sip of coffee quelled the waves in her stomach for the moment, but the calm was short lived.  Soon after taking in the soothing warmth of the caffeinated beverage, a throbbing gnawed at her temples, as if to remind her of a very obstinate headache.  

“How'd I get back here, anyway?”

“Guy from the docks brought you up.  Said someone else walked off the lift from the slums with you over their shoulders and dropped you off in the bay.”

Vetra’s narration, however sparse, prompted enough of a recollection that seemed to worsen the lingering headache.  The sound of a strange yet coaxing voice and the burning in her throat flashed through her head in incomprehensible episodes.

“You...really don't remember?”  

Sara let her eyelids rest briefly while she slowly turned her head ever so slightly from side to side, confirming Vetra’s suspicions in the least nauseating way possible.

“I must've blacked out.  But…”

She scrunched her nose in that telltale sign of focused contemplation, mulling over the strewn about pieces of her memory.

“What?”

“It's probably nothing,” she said, punctuating her dismissal with a cautious sip, “but I had the weirdest dream.”

Puck kept herself busy while waiting for the Pathfinder to come to by rehearsing all of the most vulgar ways she could think of to tell Reyes to deal with his own spurned lovers from now on.  Although, ‘spurned lovers’ wasn’t that accurate of a term, now that she thought about it, especially not in this case.  Truthfully - and the breadth of knowledge she possessed regarding her friend’s personal life nearly caused Puck to start dry heaving herself - almost none could be considered ‘lovers’ at all; Reyes had mastered the art of honeyed words and bedroom eyes, but most of his famed ‘trysts’ involved little more than a few drinks and some god awful lines, and never made it past Umi’s door.  

Not her, though.  Of course, it had to be Sara Ryder that actually got to him.

Propped in a heap against the wall next to her, Sara let out a lazy groan in her sleep.  It was a faint but nonetheless sure sign she was alive, but Puck had to make sure of more than that.  She lodged a forefinger against the Pathfinder’s cheek, letting her head fall limply to the side.

Out like a candle.

As far as Puck was concerned, there was only good news to be had from the “mission.”  For one, if Sara came back to her crew in less than “safe” conditions, it wasn’t anyone but the alcohol’s fault - least of all hers.  And two, taking her back at that moment was as safe as it was going to get.

With a gruff sigh, Puck shifted in preparation to carry all that dead weight over her shoulder.  

“Well, Beans, it’s now or never.”

She wasn’t quite sure where the ultimatum came from, nor did she have the slightest idea in hell why, in the most opportune moment she’d had in a shitshow of an evening, she stalled.  What was certain, however, was the hint of relief - a slow, liberating weightlessness of being able to say the name out loud.  It was enough to distract her, and she held fast, even for just another moment, to that intensely satisfying rush of being able to talk to her cousin again.

Standing there before her unconscious figure, Puck realized hauling her to the docks in this condition would be much easier than having to drag Sara back to her ship kicking and screaming. Now, their ill-gotten moments of quiet afforded her some time to think, and thinking always led to dangerous things.

“Shit, if you hate him,” Puck began with an aloof shrug of her shoulder, “then you must hate me.” The last word faded off with the drone of her helmet’s voice changer.

Sara answered with a yawn, a move that nearly wrought havoc in Puck’s otherwise calmly aloof demeanor. To her relief, Sara merely shifted to her side as her mouth hung slightly agape - sure signs that she remained ever so deeply asleep.

Patience never was Puck’s strong suit.  Especially not when she had an itch, as was often the case when one was constantly covered head to toe in armor, and a perfect way to scratch it stared her right in the face.  

“Lot of shit’s going on right now.  You probably wouldn't believe me, but I’d tell you everything right now if I could.”  Ever incapable of taking anything too seriously, her head hung low in a soft chuckle.  “I bet you'd have the most ridiculous dumbass look on your face when you see it's me.”

She would end the speech there, but the caveat of such a reality quickly caught up with her.

“Well, if you don't try to kick my ass first.”

Now that they - or at least she - started, it proved harder to stop.  Whatever tension was there eased with the breeze that so rarely swept through a quiet evening in the slums, and she added an abrupt grunt to the wind as she unceremoniously plopped down on the ground.  Sitting next to her cousin, Puck couldn’t miss the irony of it all.  It was always Sara who needed a good listener, and it was her cousin who would lend an ear.  Now, she relished the reprieve granted by their reversed roles.  Puck, the inexplicably open book; and Sara, the good, albeit unconscious, listener.

“Remember that spot in the Wards on the Citadel where I used to smoke?  Where we used to go watch the ships and talk shit all night when shit got rough?  When your dad was being a colossal dick,” - she ended the last question with a bit of a grunt, nudging Sara with another brush of her knuckle as if it would help her remember - “or when the boy you liked didn't like you back?”

Puck laughed quietly to herself, forcing the corners of her mouth apart and the air out of it, as if doing so would make enough space to keep the supremely annoying welling of tears from escaping as well.  

“You always cried too fucking much.”

The lack of an answer bought her time to ponder the dingy if not altogether lackluster beige of the alleyway.  Wedged in the second level between a shanty store and Tartarus itself, their platform overlooked much of the slums’ squalor.  Sure enough, Puck was used to much greater heights; the kind that only two scrawny kids with the requisite agility and stubbornness could climb.  And instead of the beige blah of the poverty surrounding them, there was the sleek black neon of Zakera Ward.  Tall enough to watch the transporters whistle by with barely a care, and dark enough so no one would see where they hid past curfew.  Yet even in their more modest setting, she couldn’t help but feel just as invisible - invincible, even.  In Kadara, they had nothing but drunkards staggering home and the still-burning glow of a red giant in their horizons.  Somehow that felt safe enough, if not just as safe as being home again.  

“Reyes...he told me what you said to Zia about him, that he's a better man than she thought.”  “Heh, well coming from her that's not really saying shit, but you…”

Puck inched closer to her ever-dreaming listener out of the sudden concern that, perhaps, Sara might fall over without the support of her shoulder.   Looking over the damsel in question, she couldn’t help but glance askance over the formidable Pathfinder. Fast asleep, she looked almost calm if not for the twitchy wrinkle of her nose.  Sara’s face contorted as a result, and with that Puck suppressed what would normally have been a bellowing guffaw.  It was precisely the sort of forbidden moment she planned on remembering for herself, if only to allow herself the luxury of a secret.  

Reyes must enjoy these moments with her, too - not this precisely, or so she hoped, but similar little things.  Sara made some pretty entertaining faces when flustered or nervous, and Puck felt a sharp pang of resentment at her friend for missing this.     

“I don't know if he really loves you or not, Beans, but...I think he wants to.  You're something to him.  He's never gonna say it, that's...not his style.  With him, it's all about the little things.  He’s always got that shit-eating grin on his face, but it's softer when he talks about you.  He asks me to drag a lot of people out of bars for him, but he's only ever asked me to keep you safe.”

“So...don't hate him, okay?”

A reply would've been nice.  For fuck’s sake, the one time Puck wanted Sara to talk to her...

“And please don't hate me either.”

A groan answered her this time.  “Nnng… who…?”  Sara turned her head before she had the strength to lift the lid of her eyes.

Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.

A heavy furrowing of her brows brought a distorted crease over Sara’s features.  She woke with a bellow of a moan, barely able to stretch her still comatose limbs.  A quick turn of her head, and the languid expression of her face very quickly turned to that of exasperation.  

“Hey. Drink this.”

The Pathfinder’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits, and she put forth her best effort into a wobbly, skeptical backwards lean of her head.  Instead, a nagging migraine tipped the weight of her head over, sending it gently down onto Puck’s armor-clad shoulder.   “Where am I?”

“Same place.”  Through pitiful moans of protest, Puck shifted her shoulder so that Sara’s head was as close to upright as it was going to get.  She offered the flask again, with a bit less compromise this time.  “Drink some water.”

After staring back for an awkwardly long time with a slight curl of her upper lip, Sara reluctantly complied.  

“Heh,” she mused as she lowered the flask from her face, “my sixth drink for the night.”

“Finally.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Anyway, can you walk, or am I gonna have to carry you?”

A slow roll of laughter rumbled from her lips.

“What’s so funny?”

The laughter devolved into something of a choking sob. “I don’t… I don’t think I can.”

Puck’s eyebrow twitched in a suppressed groan beneath her mask.

The earlier forebodings of her tears came out in full force, as if Sara had suddenly remembered the very crux of her woes.  “He was supposed to come back. It’s been days!”

Her compassionate savior answered with a protracted silence.  “Tough shit. He isn’t here.”

“Yeah,” Sara shrugged.  “But you are.”

Even in that salt-soaked sardonic tone, even if Sara didn't know who she was really saying them to, those words from her lips pulled a reluctant but wide smile across Puck’s face.  

“Trust me, it’s good that he sent me.  It's not like he couldn't have gotten someone else to do it.  I only get called in for the really important shit, so, you know...take that however you want.”

Sara took the confession with a bemused sigh and a slight roll of her eyes.  Puck would have said more, but the Pathfinder seemed to take to her own guarded reticence as she withdrew further into herself.  With knees pressed firmly against her chest, a wistfulness overtook her temperament in the moments that followed.  

“I’m really tired.”

Having known Sara a bit more than most, Puck was more than tempted to offer up one last-ditch effort to be done with it all: to fling her cousin back over her shoulders and plop her back down on her ship.  But it was precisely the sort of indignity a Ryder would never suffer (much less someone as proud as Sara), so she settled instead to play at being therapist, if only for a moment.

“You know, if he’s such an asshole… why sit around waiting for him?  Why bother with him at all?”

The question struck something of a chord.  

“I don’t know,” she continued. “He just doesn’t seem your type.”  

Puck risked the observation, and she was met with what at least seemed like Sara’s tacit acceptance.  Much to her surprise, the question didn’t come up:  how could she know what was her type, if she had one?  It didn’t matter anyway. She was still in love with Reyes, and he was still not there.

“Maybe,” she countered with an unexpected hint of resignation. “But I know he needs me.”  If Sara had been less tired, no doubt a smile would have followed those words.  Instead she lifted her head enough to stare directly through Puck’s helmet with a newfound air of haughty resolve. “And I like feeling needed.”

“Don’t we all.”

Another yawn rolled from her lungs - wide and seemingly unending with the way she stretched her head back against the wall.  The heaviness in the air seemed to weigh down on her, for soon her face relaxed back into a dreamlike calm before her eyes slowly fluttered to a close.  It only took a few moments before the slowed rhythm of her unconscious breathing motioned the rise and fall of her shoulders.  

“You're right, though, Beans.  He does need you.”

Puck shifted ever so slightly, careful not to wake her tired cousin.  With her arms freed, she released the airlock keeping her face safe behind its previously impenetrable facade, and wrestled her head from the cracked confines of her helmet.  The chill of the air and the lingering waft of Kadara’s detritus made the very prospect of breathing less worthy of the effort.  Still, she was with family now, and the impulse to leave something of a memento, however transient, presented itself.  Regina May Park, finally exposed to the full scrutiny of her cousin's presence and Kadara’s night air, planted a slight and ever so careful kiss between Sara’s brows.

“And so do I.”  

Six hundred years and a new galaxy was all it took, apparently, to feel at home again.

“That's...hmm.”  Vetra propped her hand over her waist, letting her eyes wander off to the floor in piqued contemplation.

“Yeah,” Sara replied.  She ran a timid hand over the back of her neck.  “It’s stupid.”

She tried to ponder the blurry pieces left in her headache-ridden mind, but by the way the very veins in her head throbbed, it proved too much of an ordeal.  Sara let out a tired breath.  Somehow, she’d have to find a way to shake off all of last night’s aches.

“Let’s...let’s just get out of here.  I think...I’ve had enough of Kadara for a while.”

[chargenovasmash]

Six Drink Sara (Pt. 1)

Cousins AU, written (almost) entirely by @pathfindersemail and "finished" by me. Putting this up in two parts because patience is not my virtue. Expect Part 2 later today!

Sara takes advantage of Kian’s offer of free drinks a little too much while waiting for Reyes.

Six drink Sara was a phenomenon hitherto unknown. 

Sure enough, one drink Sara has made constant appearances here and there. Any form of mild celebration or any need to diffuse an otherwise awkward social environment could always be helped with some liquor courage. 

Two drink Sara was less common but not infrequent. It was a dancey kind of state-of-being that wrought havoc in many a parties. Collateral damage included embarrassing vidcon calls and vandalized private property. 

Three drink Sara was less destructive and more verbally incisive. The Romans, lost now to the annals of antiquity, once claimed “in wine, truth.” Well, in Sara’s case, truth had to slush through three fruity drinks, all involving tequila. Three drink Sara made an appearance about five times in her life: twice during a long and drawn out break-up, and once during a bitter fight with her brother. 

Four drink Sara happened every New Year’s party. She normally downed them in succession so as to bypass the preceding phases of her alcoholism. It was the sort of famed “black out drunk” that she would promise to be rid of come next day, but the temptation to swim in spirits at the end of every year was much too strong. 

Five drink Sara had only happened once. She was single, desperate, and teetering at the edge of academic probation in graduate school. The one available outlet for a frustrated grieving pupil like Sara was a one-night-stand she’d rather not remember, and that was that. 

The sixth drink, as mentioned, has yet to happen, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At this point, Sara’s face was pasted on a dance pole while the entirety of her body lay limp against a wall. Her eyes were closed, wearied from a hard night’s work. Still, it didn’t stop her from setting a low-toned growl anytime a passerby offered to move her. 

SAM, meanwhile, labored tirelessly to clear out her bloodstream.

“Hey, Pathfinder!” 

Kian’s voice was honestly the last thing she wanted to hear at that moment. 

“Had about enough?” 

“Ggnnngh,” she grumbled quite irreverently. 

“Listen, I can move you to the lounge. Got a bit more privacy there.” 

The barkeep ran a helpless hand through his scalp. Kian wasn’t one for playing cordial host, least of all to guests too drunk to truly know the merits of such sacrifice. Yet, it would look especially bad if the boss came back and found his… “sweetheart” near-unconscious by a dance pole. It would look really bad.

“Pathfinder…” 

“Gnngh Awnnnngy!” The command came out in a half-mumble. Eyes and face still plastered shut, her hand waved around in a failed attempt to swat him out like a fly. “Nnnnngnhtirednn…” 

“Well, if you’re tired, I can send for your people, eh? Your ship isn’t far. No trouble at all-...” 

“NNNnnngh!” 

Sara shook her head violently, momentarily threatening to lose her balance and make even more of a scene and setting herself and the bartender at quite the obnoxious impasse. Reyes would come back. He had to, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to be standing right here when he did. Kian, irritatingly undeterred, folded his arms in front of his chest and muttered something about never giving free drinks to high-profile patrons again. 

All the while, SAM remained a busy bee. 

Sara, I managed to slightly lower your blood alcohol concentration. You should be able to speak more coherently now. 

Since the opportunity presented itself… 

“Kian...go...awayyyyyy!” 

Her arm managed to swat at him quicker than before, but, thankfully for Kian, her reflexes were still much too depressed to stand a chance against the otherwise mediocre movements of a fully sober person. 

“Ryder, don’t make a fuss now, eh? It isn’t good for business if the Pathfinder’s passed out half dead on my floor!”

Kian inched closer in slow and steady movements, lest he frighten her into utter hostility. “Let’s just calm down… relax…”

He muttered an endless string of words to coax her into compliance. It almost worked, too. His hands were just within reach of her shoulders. The poor bartender broke out into a sweat, no doubt ridden with the anxiety of the plan ultimately failing. 

“Just calm down. Everything will be o-...!” 

Sara’s arm leapt from her side once more, and a Ioud thud thundered against his jaw as if the very bones holding his face together quaked upon impact. Kian flew in one fell swoop down to the floor, making an ungraceful landing. Drunk as she was, Sara Ryder could really pack an uppercut. 

 “Fuck!” 

Kian scrambled away, clutching at his nose and loudly spouting curses as blood oozed across his cheeks. Sara, on the other hand, remained in her stupefied state; blessed was she, at five drinks, for she would never even remember what she had done to poor, innocent Kian. 

“Yeah, it’s your fucking girl.” 

Kian had a frozen slab of space cow pressed against his jaw, trying to do his best to yell as loudly as possible without letting the levels of pain exceed a certain threshold. He made sure to stand in full view of the holo, hoping that the sight of him could speak for itself. 

“What are you on about?” Irritation lined Reyes’s voice, clearly unamused by whatever sort of inconvenience befell his bartender.  He knew, of course, and despite the pricks of genuine concern in the back of his neck it was quite high on the list of things he’d rather not have to deal with at the moment.

“The Pathfinder!  Do you see my face? Do you see it?! Look at it!” 

He made sure to point at the bloodied streak scarring his face. Reyes was grateful at the moment that the technology of vidcon calls hadn't quite reached a state where the aggravated roll of his eyes would come through crystal clear on the other end. 

“Calm down, Kian!” 

As if that was ever going to work. 

“You calm down! I don’t get paid enough for this shite. I’m charging you extra, just so you know. I’m slapping a protection fee on that damn room!” 

Reyes pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to gather what he could of the remainder of his patience. 

“What exactly do you want me to do about it? I’m not just sitting on my ass while you play babysitter!” 

“Do something!" Kian retorted. It was a fair enough demand, he thought. “She’s your girlfriend!” 

“She’s not-...” The sentence was almost a reflex, but, come to think of it, it wasn’t a decision they had made just yet. The very distinction seemed somewhat academic given the nuisance he was presented with for that evening. 

“Nevermind!” he groaned through gritted teeth. “I’ll take care of it.” 

He hung up the call before he could hear Kian sing an inaudible praise of hallelujah. Time was of the essence, and he wasn’t about to dilly-dally in the midst of a such a sensitive operation. Without losing a beat, Reyes called the most reliable person he could think of. 

An uncomfortably long time passed before the armored hologram flickered into existence in front of him. The insufferable smartass always took her sweet time to answer, but answer she did. 

“What?” 

Straight to the point. That was how he knew she was reliable. “I need a favor.” He looked nervously around, as if watching for time to pass him by in the precious seconds he took making such backdoor deals. 

“It’s almost like you’ve ever called me for anything else.” 

“You’re a riot, Puck,” he said bitterly, not exactly willing to be out-witted in their banter. Reyes then quickly wound back to the matter at hand. “I need you to grab someone for me.” 

“Well, I can do that,” she said with unnecessary innuendo. He could almost hear the smirk behind her mask. Normally, he would extend the joke, but both time and Kian’s patience were running thin. 

“You’re looking for Sara Ryder. Tartarus. I’d appreciate it if you could safely," - he paused to make sure that the keyword was properly and exaggeratedly enunciated- “return her to her ship. I’ll send you the navpoint for the docking bay.” 

An unexpected pause followed through the line. Her holographic image was so still, Reyes thought the line froze and was cut off. 

“Puck?” 

“I got it,” she answered almost immediately, dispelling the jarring effect of her hologram’s motionlessness. She crossed her arms, readying for a joke. 

“So, I’m taking out your trash now, too?” 

Barring the jab, Reyes couldn’t have heard sweeter words. A sigh of relief rolled through his shoulders after moments of tense aggravation. He quickly gave his send-off before rushing out. 

“Don’t make me regret this.” 

The soundless static of a dead line briefly filled the room before fading back into ambient noise. The Charlatan could now resume his work unimpeded.

[chargenovasmash]

Six Drink Sara (Pt.2)

(Cousins AU, written collaboratively by @pathfindersemail and myself.  

Sara is -that- drunk friend.  If she could consider Puck a friend, that is.  Alcohol use and the, uh, consequences thereof.)

The water slapped like knives against her face. Sara rose from unconsciousness with a howling gasp.

“What the fuck?!”

Her eyes darted around for an explanation. She saw nothing but a familiar alley - a pile of old freighters topped in leaning towers and garbage piles that gave off an authentic slums feel. Somewhere, the faint beating of Tartarus’s music drummed into an ever expanding distance.

“SAM?”

Her plea was indeed met by a synthetic, mechanical voice, but not SAM.  Its chaotic baritone was slightly familiar, but not at all in a good way.

“Oh, goody.  You’re awake.”

Another splash of water struck her in a wave. Her cheeks were red as she shivered in drenched panic.

“What the-…”

She could hear the swing of a bucket, and the third - and hopefully final - cascade of water descended upon her like ice.

“WILL YOU STOP THAT!?

“Sure, when it stops being funny.”

“Son of a…” Her fingers wove through her soaked and knotted hair falling like slabs of sticking to her face. More than the chilly air of a Kadara evening, she could feel the sharp pang of an alcohol-soaked brain raze through her mind.

“Fuck…” Her hand quickly reached for her temple, rubbing so as to soothe the sting.

“Language,” taunted the inhuman voice once more.  Sara managed to massage enough of the pain away to see relatively straight, but she couldn’t quite recognize the fully armored figure standing over her.

“Who the hell are you?!”

Pathfinder, you are located somewhere behind Tartarus club. Identity of your assailant unknown.

“My assailant?!”

It took Sara a moment to realize that the momentary burst of static was just the stranger’s condescending huff through that hideous helmet.

“I mean, if you want me to be.”

The stranger grabbed Sara by the arm and jerked her into the air, forcing her onto her feet. The rather sudden shift caught her in a dizzying blur. It was hard enough playing a balancing act with gravity staggering her movements, but she had to deal with the harsh, constant tug of the stranger’s grip. Any longer and Sara swore her arm would pop loose from its socket.

“Hey!  Let…go of me!”

No such luck, of course.  If anything, the stranger’s armored hand seemed to squeeze her arm even harder.

“Sorry, Pathfinder, can’t risk it.”

Pathfinder, I can switch you to Soldier profile for increased strength and dexterity.

“Do it.”

“What-…”

Sara brusquely pulled back her arm and followed her momentum with a forceful shove onto the assailant. The sound of dry ground cracking against their weight echoed throughout.

“You little-!”  She tried unsuccessfully to land a blow, but Sara quickly parried with her own fists.

“NOT TODAY, ASSHOLE!”

Sara swung a staggered left that barely scraped the intended target of the stranger’s helmeted jaw, then followed with a right that somehow managed to crack into her opponent’s ear - well, the part of the helmet where an ear should’ve been.  A squeamishness seized her before she could pull another punch, giving her opponent time to shake off the impact and turn the tide in their little tug of war.

A second. A numbing irruption of a second was all it took, and Sara felt a strike sink into her stomach. Her eyes struggled to make sense of it all as her vision blackened into the grime of muddy soil.

“That won’t leave a bruise…I hope.”

“Listen, Pathfinder,” the now-victorious assailant growled into Sara’s ear as a knee dug into the middle of her spine and an arm twisted behind her back prevented any further struggle, “all I need is to get you to your ship. No fuss. No crying and-… wait, stop!”

Sara couldn’t help it. She breathed in the stench in the soil, the sweat beading down her skin, and always pervasive gases floating about in this junk heap of a city. It certainly didn’t help getting flailed off and pulled every which way. Quick bouts of dry heaving turned into a shakiness in her limbs.  The stranger’s hold on her loosened a bit in anticipation of what was to come, and then the whole world seemed to swirl - and the contents of her stomach with it.

“…Okay, that’s just gross.”

She couldn’t quite hear or see the stranger after that. The seconds that followed were drowned out by the almost deafening noise of retching.

“Hey, you gonna be-…”

More vomiting. Sara wasn’t sure which was more horrifying: the slushing sound of putrid bile or the almost sulfuric taste of it in her mouth.

“Oh god!”  She barely managed to choke out the words before the broiling knot of sick swelled in her stomach.

“Yeah…okay, let’s just…move it along, this way!”

She felt a tug at her arm, leading her the way one leads a child instead of a prisoner, and the feeling of her feet trudging through mud. Sara wasn’t sure as she could make sense of nothing save the nauseated whirr of blurred images. Was there only one stranger? Or two? Two helmeted strangers? Oh boy…

“Right there. Into that dumpster.”

A hand knotted the base of her hair into a coiled bun and pivoted her neck like a crane. Sara would complain, but she was much too busy retching.

Sara couldn’t really feel much. A burning in her throat trailed by a lingering aftertaste of oak and ash monopolized her senses. All she could focus on was breathing deep. Kadara’s air, however smoggy, seemed to cool the searing pain. It didn’t at all occur to her that the very stranger whom she fought and wrestled with now stood by her side. Although the retching cleared enough of the intoxication, she wasn’t quite ready to comprehend that it was also this same person who rubbed her back and held her hair in an improvised knot.

“Got it all out?”

“Who-” Sara paused to wipe a slither of bile from the corner of her mouth. “Who are you?”

A stretched out second seemed to fill in for a response.

“We should get some water in you.”

With a good bit of the alcohol now gone from her system, either through SAM or sick, Sara finally managed to get a good look at her far from pleasant company.

“Wait!” She reached out and struggled to grab her. “I know you!”

It didn’t make a lick of sense.  It was definitely the same person, but…how could it be?  The lone green ‘eye’ on the helmet.  That voice.  A name went with it, something ridiculous that she remembered scoffing at, wondering why anyone would ever willingly call themselves such a thing, but exactly what it was escaped her.  Flashes of deserts, and the question that introduced them in the first place.

You work for Reyes?

Something of a cackle accompanied her realization. Her speech slurred, as lopsided as her grin. “You’re that… that bitch from Elaaden! Ha ha!”

The last laugh sounded more like a piggish squeal. Perhaps not all the alcohol had left Sara’s system.  

“Congratulations, you recognized a helmet.  Want a fucking medal?”

That sounded more like the henchman she met.

“Reyes sent you?”

The faceless mask menaced her with nothing save an uncomfortable silence. “I have to get you home.”

“No!” Sara lost her footing and found herself stumbling backward. Her carelessness gently guided her to a wall, safely cradling her wobbly legs. “Don’t touch me,” she barked in a drunken snarl.

The stranger bobbed her head to the side, as if exasperated with the delay of a skirmish she had suffered just moments prior. “Just be a good girl and go home to your fucking crew.”

The Pathfinder adamantly held up her hand in a defiant last stand.

“No!” She shook her head once more to emphasize her stance on the matter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She tried to focus her sight on the flickering light above them. It was dimming, shaking even.

Pathfinder, you are not well enough to engage in combat.

Sara would have shouted back a livid denial of the fact, but another knot of sick in her throat started to swell. Her hand felt for grooves against the wall that supported her.  

“Reyes sent you?” Sara asked again, unsatisfied with the trend of ambiguous answers.  The stranger gave a pointed, mocking shrug, throwing out her hands and tilting her head, as if the answer was so obvious the question shouldn’t have needed to be asked.

“Yeah?”

Of course he had.  She knew it the moment she recognized that stupid helmet, but that didn’t lessen the sting of that dismissive confirmation that Reyes Vidal would not be making an appearance tonight.  Her chest had only just begun to calm into embers, but reignited at the thought that he actually had the gall to send a lackey - and a particularly rude one at that - to ‘take care of her’ the way one takes care of a household pest or that embarrassing relative no one wants to admit relation to.  She may have overlooked such a slight when her mind was in a state to rationalize it, but as it were she was far from capable of such.

“Tell your boss that, until he comes here with a personal apology, he can go fuck himself.”

Seeing as neither were currently in short supply, she gathered a pool of spit and bile in her mouth and, with all the strength she could muster, spat it directly into that unblinking green ring of an eye.  

A bluish-purple flash of biotic energy erupted and formed an ominous corona around the stranger’s form.  Sara’s eyes widened, and she gasped as she struggled to flatten her back against the wall.  SAM was right; she was in no condition to fight, but the energy - and the tension - faded a moment later with the stranger’s heavy shrug.

“What the fuck ever.  I’m not here to be your goddamned couples’ counselor.  He told me to get your sloppy drunk ass back to your ship, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He didn’t say that, did he?  He wouldn’t have.  Then again, she also thought he’d show up to get her drunk ass back to her ship himself.  A lot of questions as to how accurate her judgment of what Reyes Vidal would or wouldn’t do really was shoved their way to the forefront in an almost frighteningly short amount of time.

“No!’ Sara swung a tightened fist. The edge of her knuckle barely scraped past the lackey’s helmet, but she quickly stepped to the side, causing Sara to stagger and lose all sense of balance. Another wave of nausea stuffed the air up in her lungs. She could vaguely recall a heaping of pink slush landing on the other’s boot.

“FUCK!”

Sara watched the stranger raise a closed fist almost in slow motion, and instinctively maneuvered to avoid the incoming blow.

“Wait? Hey-, hey!

One second she was getting ready to parry. But in the next, her voice seemed to sink even deeper in tone. Slowing and yet barely audible. The outlines of her figure seemed to blend with the background. All turning black.