#i wonder if you can scale things up/down with console commands...

[unteriors-in-house-flipper-2]

(suggested by @cuyama)

Grant Street, Carson, North Dakota.

[otonymous]

Prisoner Of Love (Ikesen Kenshin - NSFW)

Description: Can two victims of circumstance find their way to love? Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for the first half of Kenshin’s MS.  Potential trigger warnings: angst, imprisonment, mild mentions of injuries, self-harm and death, self-loathing, anxiety, possessiveness (it IS Kenshin after all ��), slight dub-con elements, profanity, vaginal intercourse, squirting Word Count: ~3100 words (~17 minutes of angst and smut) Author’s Notes: Sending out a super giant thank you to the incredibly kind and gracious @azuchi-princess​ for commissioning this Kenshin piece from me.  I cannot tell you how honoured I am to have been entrusted with writing for your husbando! 🥰💕 It was an absolutely wonderful process working with you, and I’m so glad to have been able to indulge in my need for angst and smut at the same time!

(SPOILER ALERT!) This story takes place shortly after Kenshin has MC (read: YOU!) placed behind bars as his “spoils of war,” but I have taken creative license in altering the events that occur afterwards.  Moreover, the perspective shifts between that of the reader’s and Kenshin’s in the hopes of delivering that optimal punch of angst 👊🏼🤣

Please note the warnings listed above — especially the potential triggers — and avoid this read if anything makes you uncomfortable.  Otherwise, dear readers, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this piece! 💕

Chapter I (Kenshin’s POV)

Betrayal.

Cutting deeper than the sharpest blade.

Unforgiving like Himetsuru-Ichimonji, severing the red string of fate as quickly as it is drawn from its scabbard.

So why was it that Kenshin still couldn’t bring himself to hate her?

Footsteps echoing along stone walls in the bowels of Kasugayama Castle — the very place where he had her cast behind bars — Kenshin wanders, trapped in a hell from which there was no escape.

For the confines of the mind were impervious to even the God of War’s sharpened steel.

And in between each beat of his thunderous heart, he hears her: gentle tears rolling down that delicate face to fall on packed earth, the ground’s inhospitable chill reaching up through limbs to rob even the final vestiges of warmth from bone.  Her every shuddering breath is a weight upon his chest, suffocating until Kenshin clings to the reins of reason holding him back from storming her cell like a madman, animated solely by the fire commanding him to see, to touch…

…to love her.

Hands clenching into tight fists, Kenshin’s knuckles blanch whiter than his already pale skin when he slows to a stop.  Round the corner and there she’ll be.

Woman of the Oda.  The Devil King’s own.

She, who had lied in the same breath that commiserated with him as they waited for Sasuke’s return.  She, whose tears left him dazzled, catching the light of the fire like precious stones even as their salt stung, seeping into his open wounds.  She, who had held his hand within her own, caring not about sullying her perfect skin with his tainted blood.

Because tainted is what he is.  It is what he deserves.

And yet, he can’t help but see the moonlight in her gaze, shimmering like a spectre every time he closes his eyes.  Can’t stop himself from desiring the tender warmth of her smile.  Still wonders at her fearless bravado in the face of a man who brought nothing but death and destruction upon friend and foe alike.

Isehime.

No.

No, he will not see her, Kenshin thinks, gaze frosting over as he wills the ice in his veins to freeze a heart he no longer wanted to feel.  He walks away, forcing himself to believe that the sound of her sorrow growing faint was nothing more than mice in the walls.

Chapter II (Reader’s POV)

Ethereal moons beckon from scrolls depicting each of the four seasons — resplendent colours discordant against the drab stone walls on which they hang.

Cherry blossoms flutter against gold-foil skies; delicate petals frozen in time as they float across a folding screen.

Even the futon in the corner of your cell seemed fit for a princess at court, much more luxurious than the one in which you had slept at Azuchi.

The Dragon of Echigo had took it upon himself to see that his spoils of war would want for nothing, and yet he would deny you the one thing you truly desired:

The man himself.

Sasuke, Shingen and Yukimura would visit — sometimes together, sometimes in turn — graciously sharing their company for which you were so starved.  Your ninja friend swore with as much emotion as he could muster to do anything and everything possible to persuade his lord to release you, or at the very least, agree to see you.  Yukimura couldn’t stop shaking his head, the expression on his face indignant to see you treated thus, ‘boar woman’ though you were.  As for Lord Shingen, he likened you to a bird in a gilded cage, trying to tempt you with offers of freedom and a ready smile on his face that surely would’ve moved any woman to see it…

…any woman but you, that is.

For in your eyes, there was only ever Kenshin — the man who came to your rescue time and time again without knowing your true identity.  Intoxicating like the finest sake, each and every moment spent by his side became a precious embrace of a memory, emblazoned in your mind until it was impossible to forget:

The black cape that flowed from broad shoulders like a powerful wave, trailing behind him that night he saved you from those thugs in Azuchi.  The way your feet dragged behind his footsteps, moving slow just to watch him cut swift through tall grass with all the seasoned grace of a dancer.  His porcelain skin glowing from within as if lit by the light of his own moon.

And in his eyes…sorrow as unfathomable as the sea was deep, rising like smoke from sapphire and emerald in those rare moments the Dragon of Echigo let down his guard.  But alas, no more.

You had broken his trust.

How many nights have you lain awake, seeking out pinprick stars through the sliver of window high above your prison and thinking about how things might have been different?  What if you had disclosed your relationship with the Oda at the very start?  Would the press of the cold steel of his blade be more of a consolation against your neck than the heartbreak spreading from chest to limb every time you lay down to sleep?

Sleep?

No, that was not forthcoming these days — rest a luxury you couldn’t afford until the moment you could face Kenshin for yourself and tell him that you never meant to hurt him, never meant to lie.  That though Nobunaga found you first, you had no ulterior motive in approaching Kenshin other than the fact that you…you…

…simply couldn’t stay away.

No matter what anyone tried to say about him.

For even on the battlefield, every nerve singed as the stench of freshly spilt blood filled your nostrils, you still couldn’t tear your gaze from the one they revered as the God of War.  Like an immortal stepping from an unfurling scroll, Kenshin moved with the fluid grace of a master painter wielding his brush, completely at one with his sword as he dispatched his enemies with a precision that terrified and awed all at once.

And when he held you in his arms that night — the same hand which had claimed countless lives bleeding into your own as you clasped it in prayer for Sasuke’s safe return — you had felt no fear; only the wish that time would stretch into eternity so that you might forever have him near.

“Kenshin.”

You say his name once…twice…the syllables rolling off your tongue to echo down the hallway like a ghost, lonely and forgotten in the dungeons of Kasugayama Castle.  What was freedom to you when you couldn’t bear to break the shackles chaining you to a god who would never look your way again?

Chapter III (Kenshin’s POV)

“Kenshin.”

Her voice halts him in his tracks, one hand shooting out to rest upon the cool stone wall as Kenshin bolsters himself against the sudden weakness in his knees.  When was the last time he heard her speak his name?  Had it always sounded so melodic, caressing up the spine to curl gently upon the lobe of his ear?

That she is calling for him at a time when she should’ve been fast asleep is a source of elation and anxiety all at once, She is thinking of me tempered by the dread in knowing that she wasn’t getting the rest her body needed.  And slowly, slowly…the scales start to tip: if she didn’t sleep, she’d become too exhausted to eat.  And without eating, she would…

…die.

The nightmare would begin anew.  Except this time, it would be her blood on Kenshin’s hands, spilling crimson over the scars left behind by Isehime’s lifeless body.

She’ll slip away from you like the other, the voice in his head chastises, full of malice as darkness begins unfurling from the corners of his mind, tightening the vice in his chest.  They come hard and fast, thoughts tangling one over the other like a labyrinth of vines from which there was no escape:

Poison runs through your veins.  Loving her would only doom the girl to misfortune and regret.

If she is not yours, could you possibly surrender her to anyone else?

You cannot outrun your curse.  All those you hold dear will end up like Isehime: sleeping in the cold earth.

No one must lay eyes on her beauty, witness her elegance, know of the rare flower blooming in the depths of this dungeon.

No one but you.

Fist pulling back, Kenshin releases the full force of his strength in a punch to the wall.  Bruised bone and shredded skin send blistering pain to interrupt the cacophony in his head, silence reigning supreme once more until

“Kenshin?”

…she calls for him again, voice coloured with anticipation this time.  He hears a shuffle, sees her in his mind’s eye — throwing off the covers of her bedding to press against the bars, straining to peek around the wooden slats that kept her from freedom.  Kept her from him.

“Please, Kenshin…is that you?”

He knows not why he does it, body moving before his mind is even aware.  Kenshin had managed to make his way to her cell undetected every night since he put her there, standing silent in shadowy corners just to watch her sleep, allowing the rise and fall of her breath to soothe him with the knowledge that she was still very much alive.  But now, in a single moment of thoughtlessness, he had thrown it all away.

She gasps to finally see him and even the sound of that is beautiful, resonating clear like the note of an expertly plucked koto.  His gaze falls on her tightened grip around the bars, follows the solitary tear gathering starlight as it rolls down her cheek.  And when her eyes widen in horror to look upon the state of his injured hand, Kenshin feels it:

A shift deep within, barely perceptible but wholly significant, like ice cracking beneath the surface of a frozen stream.

And the rush of waters that follows drowns the lovers in a flood from which neither was capable of nor willing to escape.

Chapter IV (Reader’s POV)

Perhaps he really was a god, answering every prayer that ever slipped past noiseless lips to materialize before you in that prison.  His white kimono is pristine beneath that black cloak, as if emphasizing the sanctity of his being, the unalterable distance between Uesugi Kenshin and a mere mortal such as yourself.  But then the rivulets of red run down that swollen hand to tell you otherwise; the revelation bittersweet because maybe now, there was a way for you to be together, complicated though circumstances were.  

So you reach for him through the bars and he complies, watching as you lay kisses upon bruised fingers, feeling the familiar sting of your tears as they seep into wounded flesh and broken hearts — full of sorrow, full of joy…and impossible to stop.

“Push me away.”

His voice is soft for the hard edges of his words.  Head lifting, you meet those striking eyes, focused and still.  Yet, you felt the storm brewing in those blue and green depths, turmoil barely concealed beneath the ice of his gaze.  And there, standing before the man whose very blood stained your lips, you refuse.

Lightning flashes in those eyes and suddenly, his fingers are curling tight about the sleeve of your kimono, Kenshin pulling you close through the bars in one swift motion until the stilted rhythm of his breath is dancing hot over your skin.  

“Say it.  Say you hate me, that you want absolutely nothing to do with me.  Do it now or else—”

“No.  Never.  How could I ever bring myself to hate the one I love—”

The grimace on his handsome face cuts you off, the great Dragon of Echigo trembling at the very word, love, like it was dirty, taboo.  And as the final threads of control slip from his grasp, Kenshin is moving once more without thought — his body a slave to the dictates of the heart.  Yanking on the ring of keys hanging from his tapered waist, Kenshin throws open the door to your cell and in an instant, he is by your side.

“Fine.  Then I’ll make you hate me.”

His whisper is a promise.

The keys clatter as they’re thrown to the ground, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears, deafening with every pounding beat of your heart to feel his lips on yours for the very first time.  The insistent tongue pushing into your mouth carries a hint of sake, the fervour of his kiss leaving you intoxicated and desperate for more.

Long fingers thread through the silk of your hair, Kenshin’s grip gentle yet firm as he angles your head to deepen the kiss, bringing you closer and closer until the end of his exhalation marked the beginning of your next breath.  And hadn’t it always been this way, you forever chasing after the mystery that was this beautifully broken man?  The intensity of his want is a spell that bewitches, inexorably pulling you into the crucible of his desire, passion matching yours flame for burning flame until all else was extinguished.

Good and bad, right or wrong.

Words insignificant like ash in the face of this all-consuming love.

“Hate me,” Kenshin begs, teeth sinking into your lower lip until the taste of your blood mixed with his.  “Please…or else I’ll never give you up.”

Open-mouthed kisses now trailing wet along the column of your neck, your fingers find purchase in his golden hair, pulling hard as you yield to the sensation of his breath moving lower and lower still.  Kenshin groans, the sound resonating from deep within his chest to send a rush of heat that dampens the sacred space between your legs.

Body ready and heart set, your mind had been made up long ago.  So you grasp onto those shoulders — broad and strong — to pull Kenshin up before you.  And in the silent space between the beating of twin hearts, you say with a conviction so strong there could be no doubt,

“I am yours.”

The sound that catches in his throat is guttural, almost feral as those eyes of emerald and sapphire train on you with the intensity of a thousand suns.  A sea of emotions flit across that handsome face, subtly shifting until one finally wins out:

Need.

You barely feel it though it must’ve taken considerable force to tear your obi off, the sumptuous kimono he gifted you with slipping from your shoulders as the God of War sets you upon the futon fit for a princess.  Elegant even in haste, Kenshin disrobes with the grace of snow falling on frost-covered pine, revealing porcelain skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscle that beckons to your every nerve.

And before the dungeon’s chill could rattle your bones, he gathers you into the heat of his embrace.  Skin to skin, the arms wrapped around you tremble when he whispers, “I’ve wanted you so desperately, I-I don’t think I can hold back.”  

Head falling back onto your pillow, you will Kenshin to see the sincerity, the surrender in the darkened gaze that reflects his very image.

“Then give me everything.  I want…all that you are.”

It tears a breathless gasp from your lips, mouth drawn open in a silent scream when Kenshin fills you to the hilt with a single thrust — the thick, hard heat of his cock testing the limits of your body with its size.  Equally skilled in bed as he was on the battlefield, the God of War is a force to be reckoned with, the swing of his hips graceful even as they connect with yours, ruthless in speed and intensity.

He moves within your body like he belongs, pulling out only to dive even deeper into slick depths until pleasure bloomed pink along your skin, the hardened tips of your breasts so enticing Kenshin couldn’t help but take them into his mouth in greedy turn as he continued thrusting, harder and faster until your legs began to shake.

“Oh god, Kenshin!  You feel…so…good...ahh!—”

Pants and screams echo down darkened corridors, the sound of your pleasure in being taken this way resonating in the corners of every prison cell until you think to bite onto the sleeve of your kimono.  But Kenshin just shakes his head, the sweat of exertion glistening on his body as his fingers move towards your mouth.

“No, I want…hmm…to hear you.  Every sound you make is…precious to me.  Let it out.”  

With that, he removes the embroidered fabric, lips pressing to yours to swallow every licentious moan for himself as he props your legs up against his shoulders.  All of a sudden, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place, the motion awakens sensations you never before knew existed.

Unable to scream with your lover’s tongue in your mouth, your body responds in the only other way it knew how: convulsing beneath Kenshin until he is forced to pull out, allowing a flood of your arousal to cascade past swollen lips, spilling down the insides of your thighs in a lewd display that wets the bedding beneath your entwined bodies.  And yet,

“More.  Please, Kenshin…I want more…”

…you were insatiable.

The sight, sound and smell of you so undone ignites a fire inside the warlord, his mind scrambled by lust.  And when he slides into you once more, he fucks with absolute abandon, yearning for complete union even as he leaves you breathless to finally spill into your depths.

* * *

You awake to moonlight glowing soft beyond shoji screens and the rhythm of a heartbeat, measured and slow beneath your ear.  The robe you wore was fresh and soft; vague recollections of Kenshin gently caressing your fatigued body with a washcloth filtering in and out of your thoughts.  At some point, he must’ve carried you to his chambers, sleeping now as you were upon his chest.

Lifting your head, you gaze at your lover in repose.  It fills you with affection to see him — heart tightening to bind you to this man.  And as his muscular arm winds about your waist, you knew you would forever be a willing prisoner to his love.

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Alex relives the old days as he single-handedly embarks on a mission to help local German Militia regain their village from the hands of Augustus. But he seemed a little distracted. I wonder why.

Previous Chapter : Roach - A Walk to Remember

Chapter 7 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Just Like Old Times"

"Alex"

Task Force 141

1 km East of A Local Militia Settlement, Germany

"Guten Morgen. Hallo." Alex muttered as the plane slowly descended toward his drop off area. He was readying his accent for the negotiation. A few more walks and he'll be on potential enemy territory or ally territory, depending how well he seals the deal. For the whole duration of the flight, he cleared his head on Samantha, how she has no clue about him, and focused on his new task. He was confident he'd get this one right, as this was his playing field. The CIA days were almost nostalgic as he plopped his metal foot on the ground and signaled the chopper goodbye.

Leading small armies to help create forces to counter terrorism. That was his role in the Special Activities Division of the CIA. He was Kate Laswell's favorite when it comes to these kinds of activities and he's confident enough that he could convince them to fight.

The walk was long and quiet, no one was around, most of Alex's trails were just forest upon forest upon forest. He started heading to the sound of the water, and immediately spotted four men, armed and possibly his ticket inside the settlement. Taking a deep breath he emerged from the forest and greeted the gentlemen.

"Hello. Does anyone here know anyone named Blitz?" Alex asked in fluent german. The four of them pointed their guns directly at him and he quickly dropped his bag and raised his hands showing surrender.

"No no. I'm here to help." He kicked the bag as it started to pour out heavy grenadier weapons and bullets. One of them grabbed a radio and called the base.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Call me Alex." he replied with a grin. The next thing he knew is that he was being tied and escorted to the village. He didn't mind, it's always normal for them to be cautious, especially when facing an unknown person.

They trod the dense forestry until they got to a small settlement buzzing with activity.

Alex found himself seated on a small wooden table, his bag of weapons in front of him while Blitz slowly stepped out of the shadows. Blitz was the leader of the said settlement. He has a pale white skin and almost bald hair, his brethren surrounded him, guns pointed at Alex.

"What brings you to this little town, Alex?" he asked. 

"Augustus." he replied confidently, all the other brothers whispered with each other.

"Shhh!" he silenced the group. "What about him?"

"I want answers from him and I need your help." 

~

Alex took a sip of their popular soup recipe, they were all gathered by the campfire outside but Blitz wanted to talk to him in private.

"Augustus, has done a lot of bad things in our village. He has slaughtered our animals, stolen some of our men and worst of all, he took away our village." he frowned.

"My wife and kids, they are still there… He's using them as shields so your heavy weapons have no use to win them back." he pushed the bag back to him.

"I still have friends who can help. If you're willing to lend us your strength." Blitz looked concerned at Alex's eagerness.

"Tell me, why do you want this Augustus man so bad?" he asked, his eyes reflected the little burn they had on their campfire.

"He's our only hope to save a lot of people," he replied.

"Good. Join us later for our plans. If we are able to evacuate my people, we can have time to play with your toys." he smiled and Alex nodded. Tomorrow, the 141 is going to have Augustus for interrogation.

~

"Don't get your hopes too high, Alex. I don't want to live waiting for uncertainty. I'm done with that." Samantha's words hit him like a brick. Alex peeked at the scope and took a general sweep of the view looking for possible hostiles. It's been months since they last met and if she's true to her word and lives a normal life, she must have someone else looking for her right now, someone else she currently loves and he just had to suck it up when his suspicions were to be true.

He had his chance to tell her everything back at the infirmary but seeing her smile like that made him hesitate. Bringing back memories of him would just cause him pain, like what Maxine felt when she heard her name. And he didn't want her hurt, he just wanted her back.

He started to crumple her letter as he fished it from his pocket. It was inside the ziploc he had to protect from the rain, but now he just wanted to forget. He had been hurt many times in the past days that he couldn't handle facing her anymore. The feeling that he isn't reciprocated the way he expected was pushing him down.

'Don't you dare forget about me.' he sighed. 

He wished it would be the same as last time. She rejected him at first but convinced herself to give him a chance the next day, but even with Maxine badgering her about him, it didn't seem to work.

"There they go Alex. The 6 am supply drop." Blitz whispered over comms. The plan was easy: Augustus supplies a lot of boxes to the base. They contain food and weapons stolen from farms or delivered to them from their higher leaders. This is the opening where most of their forces carry boxes, Anja, Blitz's wife, would lead all their members to a small tunnel they built in cases of invasion. Once everyone is out and accounted for, we will barge in and surround them, taking back what's rightfully theirs.

It's also important that most forces will focus on the northern ridge as that was the place where they came from before they invaded, and Blitz believes that a bigger base is situated there. Alex quickly relays this intel to the Task Force and reconnaissance has since begun.

"Ready, Alex?" Blitz asked one last time, holding their guns.

"Let's go." he said as they slowly creeped towards the entrance.

Alex's fingers gently felt the trigger through his gloves, he was alone with new found friends and he's not going to let Augustus slide past his hands. This has to end now. For Samantha.

For Samantha, who doesn't recognize him anymore, those days in Brazil were Alex's best days as a normal person. He got to experience living full of love for a while and he got into it. He liked the idea.

One huge explosion on an open area inside the settlement. They were smart, they're reclaiming the base so they didn't destroy anything in there. They just set out a warning.

"Alex! These weapons are top-notch!" One of the soldiers he's with roared, dashing across the field and started firing rounds. 

Alex quickly covered himself by an empty barrel, peeking with his sights and firing at the tangos who were defending, slowly pressing themselves inward onto the base.

"Brothers! Let's take back what's rightfully ours!" Blitz yelled in their language, followed by a collective "Ja!" from the men.

Enemies scattered, those with weapons slung on their shoulders immediately retaliated while some of them retreated far back into the village. Alex took note of this and shot runners when he could.

"Brothers, they're going to reinforce themselves with weapons!" Blitz yelled, commanding the rest of the forces to flank, putting pressure on the back exit where most of them could retreat.

"Alex, come with me. Let's get Augustus." The leader commanded and Alex nodded, fighting their way inside the central tent. It was heavily guarded and the duo cautiously made their way in shooting hostiles one barrage of bullets at a time. By the time they made it in a huge chunk of metal caught their attention, it had some sort of satellite components and it hummed dangerously.

Alex and Blitz successfully entered the base but it was Augustus-less, more bad news were reported as their weapons cache was already empty.

"Scheisse!!" Blitz cursed loudly as the village fell quiet. They had won their fight back, but at what cost? Alex consoled the leader and turned to the machine which hummed louder.

"We gotta get out of here!" he yelled, escorting Blitz to the door. But it was too late, the machine whirred and released some sort of small scale EMP blast, forcing their comms to ring in static followed by a loud side effect of ear ringing and minor dizziness.

Alex felt himself drop on the floor, trying his hardest to remove his earpiece. The feeling was mind bending, the ringing didn't stop and it felt piercing straight to the brain, unlike standard military EMP grenades, these lasted longer and rang louder. Whatever this contraption was, he needed it to be destroyed.

With the last of his strength, Alex covered his already bleeding ears and dragged Blitz outside the tent, threw a grenade and hid to safety. It was a slow and steady action but as soon as the machine blasted into pieces, the ringing stopped and everyone started to recover.

The group slowly recovered and got up. Some of Blitz's men began puking as their minds were assaulted by the big machine. If this is one of Nero's big plans, then the team must prepare. Alex still pondered how these blasts weren't familiar on his previous mission and how they could potentially tie to the missing person cases that continued to spread across America.

Alex was afraid of what this thing is capable of and he must report this immediately to the rest of the squad, who he thinks is making their way inside Augustus' base just beyond the mountains behind them.

Next Chapter : Experiment 001

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NOTIFICATION SQUAD, MY BELOVED

[michaelarowrites]

Shine The Brightest Chapter One

Akaryu Masaomi is in bed, although not asleep, when they come to arrest him.

It had been a pleasant evening, spent in the enjoyable company of a woman who is now passed out in the bed beside him. She had told him her name but he can’t remember it now. In fact, he can’t even remember if she told him what she was. Not that it matters, but it’s usually polite amongst bedfellows.

He would have recognized another dragon, and one of the lower divisions wouldn’t have been allowed at the party they had been at. Given her amber eyes and her stamina, he’s guessing she’s a tiger. He had told her, “You’re going to have to leave after we’re done, I don’t sleep next to other people.” She had just said in a purring sort of way, “Who said anything about sleeping?”

Which had been too tempting of an offer to make a big deal out of things, although now that dawn is approaching and she’s asleep in his bed and he’s very much not asleep in his bed, he somewhat wishes that he’d been more insistent.

The feeling becomes all the more relevant when the doors of his room are broken down with a deafening burst, and his bedroom is insultingly filled with the Tenou army, all pointing their guns at him.

This is not how Masaomi wants to spend his morning, and all things considered, if he is must be surrounded by armed soldiers he would very much prefer not to be naked.

“Akaryu Masaomi, you are under arrest.”

He takes a few seconds to compose himself in the face of this indignity, refusing on principle to seem at all surprised by this intrusion. He just sits upright in his bed and smiles slowly. “Am I?”

Then the other grand dragons enter his room, and he knows he’s fucked.

*

“Masaomi-kun,” the Green Dragon says, and Masaomi narrows his eyes, because he really doesn’t appreciate the familiarity, given the circumstances. “You are under arrest. Please come quietly.”

The Green Dragon, the Black Dragon and the Blue Dragon are all in his room. What’s worse, they’ve all brought their bulgae. The massive, pony-sized fire dogs stop Masaomi from immediately shedding his human form and lashing out in rage. More than the guns and the other grand dragons, the fire dogs are what give him pause.

The myths say that a fire dog has the strength to take a bite from the sun or moon. It’s just a creative folk story, but bulgae can certainly take a bite out of a dragon, and the common household pet is not to be underestimated. They can strip away magic spells, summon fire, and bite through most any material, and while Masaomi can appreciate the fact that they must make useful pets, he has personally thought that anything that can literally bite the heads off someone in human form should best be kept far away from civilized society.

These ones aren’t growling, but their eerily intelligent eyes are fixed on him. (Too intelligent. Another reason why Masaomi has never liked fire dogs and refuses to own one. Any pet that can look at you condescendingly isn’t one he wants around. This is a decision that he is also somewhat regretting now, since a bulgae of his own might be helpful in his current situation.)

“Yuri-san, Saki, Kazuya. While it’s so very lovely to see you this morning, I can’t help but feel like this army is a tad excessive.”

“It’s only because we respect you so much,” Kuroryu Saki says, smiling viciously. The Black Dragon is clearly enjoying this moment. “We didn’t want you to feel underestimated.”

“And I certainly do appreciate that,” Masaomi concedes. “I’m feeling very well estimated, thank you. But, pray tell me. What exactly is it that I am accused of doing?”

“Masaomi, did you really think we wouldn’t find out?” Midoriryu Yuri says, shaking her head in a pretense of sadness. “Can you honestly tell me you have no idea why we are here?”

The thing is, Masaomi can honestly say he has no idea why they are here. The fact that he doesn’t know why they are here means something very, very wrong is happening right now. While he certainly has been rather loose with his commitment to the law, he hasn’t done anything that would merit more than a slap on the wrist—not for someone of his status. Definitely nothing that warrants this reaction.

Which means he’s being set up.

“I’m fairly certain we all know that I’ve done nothing wrong,” Masaomi says, his voice pleasant. “So why don’t you tell me what you’re pretending I have done, and we can all move on from there.”

“Masaomi-kun, you have been accused of treason of the highest order. Your conspiracy with the rebels has been found out. You will be tried by your peers and if found guilty, you will be sentenced to death.”

Masaomi can’t help it—he laughs. It’s a laughter bordering on mania, and it visibly unsettles some of the soldiers around him. The Green Dragon’s bulgae starts to growl. Inevitably, the first thing that comes to mind is, Shiori was right after all. Shiori, with her witch smile, had coolly declared just a month ago, “The other grand dragons hate you, Masaomi-san. If you do not attempt to make yourself more pleasing to them, they will surely turn against you.” Not for the first time, Masaomi wonders if Shiori is some kind of prophet.

“You can’t be serious,” Masaomi says. “Treason? You’re pretending I’m a Magpie sympathizer? At least try to make this convincing. No one will ever believe that lie.”

“You don’t need to keep pretending,” Aoryu Kazuya speaks up for the first time, smiling in that smug all-knowing way of his that always makes Masaomi want to punch him in the face. “We know what you have done. We know that you have threatened the balance of the celestial administration, and you will be found guilty. We have proof.”

“You can’t have proof, because there isn’t any,” Masaomi snaps. “If you have something that indicates I’ve been helping rebels, it’s because you’ve created it yourself. If you think I’m going to let you tarnish my reputation with your slander, then you’re about to find out just how wrong you are. I’m not going to let you drag me off to some prison cell while you fabricate evidence.”

And fire dogs or no fire dogs, Masaomi is going to fight his way out of this one. Red scales already appear on his bare arms, as his control over his human form slips. He will destroy this entire pavilion if he has to, but he is not going to let this happen to him.

“Masaomi,” Saki says, her lips curving like the arc of a blade. “Didn’t I say we made sure not to underestimate you?”

Claws curve around his neck. Claws coming from a presence behind him, as someone slips the hold of their human form to release vicious points that now sink slightly into the bare flesh of his neck. “Akaryu-san, I would hate ever so much to damage your pretty neck, especially after that perfectly lovely evening we had. So don’t make me hurt you, okay?” says a husky voice that Masaomi had so enjoyed hearing just a few hours ago.

At least he was right about her being a tiger. The general vindication he has about being right is not much of a consolation, given the circumstances.

“You know,” he tells the woman who has her claws around his neck, “you are exactly the reason why I don’t like sleeping next to people.”

*

Kitahara Hinami wakes up still feeling the remnants of a dream cling to the top of her head. It’s the dream. The dream that returns every so often like an ex-lover, draining all her energy and making her irritated and restless for the rest of the day.

It’s a dream she’s had ever since her fathers died when she was sixteen years old. Ten years later, and she thinks that this is far too long to have the same dream haunt her. She saw a therapist once, someone who specialized in grief counseling. “It means you feel abandoned,” the woman had said. “You feel all alone, since you lost your parents so abruptly. You don’t make friends easily, do you, Sergeant Kitahara?”

Hinami didn’t go back to that particular therapist.

Although she did have a point. Hinami doesn’t make friends easily.

As she gets ready for her day she thinks about the dream, still so vivid, much more vivid than the world she is in right now. It’s a barren landscape, and everything is white and empty and she’s the only one there. It is a planet in ruins, and somewhere in the distance someone is crying. A woman is crying, but Hinami knows it’s not her.

The other soldiers are still asleep. While it’s morning, it’s still dark out. She always rises before the sun. While it’s tempting to wake the others for early training, she refrains. Instead, she goes for a run. She does laps around the track and field and all the while she thinks about how much she misses running in her true form. Running on two legs is not, and never will be, quite as satisfying as running on four.

Only after the sun is in the sky and the other soldiers are starting to trickle out of their barracks does she stop to wipe down with a clean towel and drink some water.

“Sergeant Kitahara.”

She had already smelled him nearby, so it doesn’t startle her to hear him now. She looks to her commanding officer, standing straight, and knows there is a question in her eyes asking why he would seek her out in the morning. “Colonel Kobayashi.”

“Meet me in my office in ten minutes.”

The day is about to begin. Breakfast in the mess hall, and then she’s supposed to meet with her troop. But there’s something in the colonel’s eyes that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up (and if she was in her true form, maybe she would be flexing her claws, just to recognize the danger in the air).

“I’ll be there.”

*

Kobayashi Kyouma is a stern-looking man—with hard lines in his square jaw that give the impression that he doesn’t smile much. He’s only seven years older than herself, they’ve known each other long enough that he’s the closest thing Hinami has to a friend in her off-hours, even though he’s also her commanding officer. She’s not normally on edge when she is in his office, but the closed doors and his general demeanor are making it hard to relax.

“This is not common knowledge, although I imagine it will be soon,” Kobayashi begins without preamble. “Two hours ago Akaryu Masaomi was arrested by the other grand dragons.”

This announcement is like a bucket of ice tossed over her head. All sense of protocol and hierarchy abruptly abandon her as Hinami yelps, “They’ve arrested the Red Dragon? For what?”

Kobayashi’s gaze pins her down. “For treason. He has been accused of conspiring with Magpies.”

The statement is so absurd it doesn’t even penetrate Hinami’s mind at first. Then the only thing she can manage to say, in a particularly stupid fashion, is, “But he isn’t.” Kobayashi keeps staring intently at her, which causes her to falter and say, “He isn’t, right?”

“No, Kitahara. He is not conspiring with us.”

Hinami leans back, still not sure how to absorb this news. Up until two seconds ago, she would have said the Red Dragon stood for everything they were fighting against. He is literally the face she sees in her mind when she thinks about the oppressive dragons and the regime the Magpies are trying so hard to overthrow. While all six grand dragons are abhorrent with their greed, selfishness, and destruction, Hinami has always considered the Red Dragon as the most evil of the bunch. She is not sure how to wrap her mind around the idea that he is no longer a threat, much less that his downfall has apparently come by some presumed virtue he doesn’t actually possess.

“But perhaps, he could be.”

It takes her a minute to snap out of her shock and to hone in on what Kobayashi has just said. “Sir?” The word comes out sharper than intended.

“Akaryu Masaomi will most likely be executed in a week. The other dragons have clearly posed some sort of coup in order to overthrow his power and seize it for themselves. While there are other implications, I think the most pressing one is that the Red Dragon no longer has allies in the celestial administration. Perhaps he would not be opposed to having new ones.”

“Sir—Colonel—” Hinami bites her own stumbling tongue to keep from saying something stupid.

“I don’t think I need to tell you how powerful Akaryu is. He is a prodigy, even amongst his own kind. That is, perhaps, why they saw fit to get rid of him. He would be a very, very dangerous enemy for other dragons and right now he is not inclined to think favorably of them.”

“Akaryu Masaomi is evil,” Hinami finally blurts out, no longer able to restrain herself. “He’s a selfish, and cruel, and incapable of empathy. He would never fight on our side, and we couldn’t trust him even if he said he would. He—”

“You speak as if you know him,” Kobayashi says, his voice lifting to indicate the question.

Hinami stops talking. If she was in her true form, her ears would be flat against her head.

“Kitahara. Do you know the Red Dragon?”

She hunches her shoulders. “No.” But it’s too close to a lie, so she amends, “We met once. A long time ago. He didn’t leave a good impression.”

Kobayashi’s lips form a thin line, and he stares down at her disapprovingly. Perhaps because he can probably guess under what circumstances she might have encountered the Red Dragon. It looks like he is somewhat regretting bringing her into his confidence, which manages to make Hinami feel very ashamed of herself, even if she resolutely stands by her decision.

“I see. Would he remember you?”

“Most likely not,” Hinami snorts. “I doubt he remembers anyone beneath his notice.”

“I would not count on that. He is a genius, after all. Does he know you are a Magpie?”

“No.”

“Would he be particularly surprised at the revelation?”

“...Probably not. What are you—Kobayashi, if he is in prison, that is a good thing for us. We should be celebrating. Not—not whatever it is that you’re thinking.”

“And what is it that you think I am thinking?”

Hinami scowls and says, “I think you’re thinking about breaking him out of prison with hopes to enlist him as a Magpie rebel.”

“You’re wrong about that.” Hinami relaxes in relief for half a second before Kobayashi continues with, “I think you should break him out of prison, with hopes that we can enlist him as a Magpie rebel.”

There are probably a lot of things that could be said to that, but the first response that comes to her mind after a few minutes of dumb stupefaction is, “You’re insane.”

He arches a brow and she flushes, remembering that he is, in fact, her commanding officer, and that no matter how long she has known him, she probably shouldn’t be so familiar. But even given all that, she can’t bring herself to apologize for the statement. He is insane, if he thinks this is at all a reasonable idea.

“Kitahara,” Kobayashi says, his voice softening, as if they’re drinking at a bar in their off-hours. Usually the only time they drink together is when they’ve just lost another comrade. She can’t help but think the use of familiarity is a bad sign now. “Do you think we’re going to win this war?”

“Of course,” Hinami says, feeling gutted by the very question.

“Realistically speaking, this isn’t even a war. It’s a private rebellion against an authority that has already conquered the continent. The wars were already fought and won and we are one army with a network of rebels trying to overthrow a ruling system that’s deeply embedded in the very fabric of society. At the end of the day, one dragon will always be enough to fight off any given twenty rebels. More and more of us are dying. The very people whose rights we’re fighting for believe we’re wasting our time. Do you really think we have a chance of succeeding without stronger allies?”

Hinami swallows, and the lump in her throat is painful. She doesn’t lower her gaze, and she speaks as evenly as possible. “No matter the odds, I believe this is a fight worth fighting. I believe we can succeed.”

There is another pause, and perhaps he is thinking she is being naive. But instead he says, “I believe that we can as well. But we live in a godless land, Kitahara. There is no one who will answer our prayers, no one who will intervene with a miracle. And yet a miracle has happened anyway—the grand dragons have turned on one of their own. It would be foolish not to try to seize this opportunity. In a world without miracles, we must take every chance we can get to change our fate.”

A godless land. Hinami sits back in her chair, because talk of the gods and miracles always makes her think about her fathers. Her papa had said, The gods died so that we could live, Hinami. Isn’t every day a miracle, because of that? Except her papa hadn’t lived. Not nearly long enough.

Her papa, she thinks, would most likely have believed in seizing opportunities. Even if Hinami can’t quite bring herself to believe this is an opportunity, she can’t fault Kobayashi for having hope. “I think that you’re wrong about Akaryu Masaomi,” she says finally, keeping her voice flat. “But I support you. However, I don’t think I am the right person for this. Akaryu and I clashed once and didn’t get along. I doubt he would listen to what I have to say.”

“Yes, I somewhat wish I had known you two had already met. Kitahara, I must be frank with you. I don’t believe you’re the right person for this mission, either. You are too recklessly compassionate.”

Hinami pulls herself upwards, somewhat indignant from the accusation. What does that even mean?

Kobayashi raises a brow like he knows what she’s thinking. “You save everyone, no matter the circumstances. Which is an admirable personality trait, except when you’re on an important mission and have other obligations. If you’re to do this, you cannot get distracted by every person in distress.”

“I know how to do my duty,” Hinami says, except she knows that she has, in fact, been derailed from missions doing precisely what Kobayashi has described. On rather a lot of occasions. “Alright, fine. Then you’ve made my point for me. I’m not suited for covert extractions anyhow. Why send me?”

There is something about the way he looks at her that makes her think she isn’t going to like this answer. When he speaks, he says, “What is your name?”

“What?” Hinami blinks, confused.

“Sergeant Kitahara Hinami, what is your name?’

“You know my name, you just said—” then she stops, flushes, looks down at her hands for the first time in this conversation, and feels deeply ashamed.

“Exactly,” Kobayashi says, not unkindly, but not warmly either. “Your name is Kitahara Hinami and you’ve never once questioned that fact. You always know what name to say, when someone asks you. Your parents didn’t give you two names, one to write on your official certificates, and one to keep secret for a someday that might never exist.”

“You could have just said it’s because I’m a tiger,” Hinami says. “Although, there are other Magpies from the Sun Republic.”

“Some tsuchigumo and kappa and the like, yes. But you’re our only tiger, the only one from the upper divisions. You’re the only one who could walk straight into the dragon pavilions and no one would ever question whether or not you belong there. And, frankly, you’re the only one physically strong enough to fight your way out of trouble.”

You could, she doesn’t say, because that would be rude. Kobayashi is also the only one of his kind among the Magpies, and he could definitely hold his own against a dragon. He is also from the upper division species. But he’s right; he’s not from the Sun Republic, and he would draw attention in the dragon pavilions in a way that a tiger wouldn’t.

She isn’t who he would choose for this kind of mission, but she’s the only one who can do it.

Hinami has never been the kind of person who would refuse orders, so she already feels terrible for arguing about this so much. But she feels like she should at least point out, “I have no idea how to do this.”

Kobayashi doesn’t smile, but he relaxes somewhat, now that he knows she will do this. There is still a somberness about him as he says, “Neither do I. If you can’t get him out safely, then keep yourself safe. We can’t afford to lose you, Kitahara. All the same, try very hard to succeed. Because I don’t know how long we can keep up this rebellion without some kind of miracle.”

  Shine the Brightest is the first book in The Magpie Chronicles. If you enjoyed, you can buy the novel here on Amazon!

[phantasieandmirare]

RWBY8 Midseason Trailer: Sarah's Breakdown & Analysis

Alright, I have finally been able to sit down and compile all my thoughts and now I want to break down the sequence of events and new frames and what I think it all means, so here we go.

Two things are notable right out of the gate: 1) Eddy Rivas said that the first half of the season was the tame half. Fantastic. I am afraid. 2) Neath Oum says that we have no idea what’s coming. Neath scares the ever-loving hell out of me and I love him but also. Fantastic. I am afraid.

Salem's monologue to Cinder is the first thing we hear in the trailer. I have never believed that Cinder will get a redemption. Based on Midnight and what we saw during her torture sequence, I do now believe that it’s a possibility that she will break and defect, but again, I don't think that that means she'll get a full redemption.

We see rockets being used against Goliaths and both of them being disintegrated. Probably just a filler shot to keep up the full-scale invasion tone.

Ironwood hits his new prosthetic against his desk. As per usual this volume, he's frustrated and angry, but what's the new setback causing this frustration? Perhaps a defection from his elite agents, his second-in-command, or the news that Penny has broken free, or been taken?

The Ace-Ops and Winter have the bomb and are preparing to run at the Monstra. I still don't think that they'll be the ones taking it in. I have a couple theories about who'll do that but I don't think they're taking it. They may get it up there but I doubt that they'll be taking it inside.

Winter comforts Marrow. This looks like it might be right before they take the bomb, or Winter and Marrow having a 'yeah-our-job-sucks-right-now-do-what-you-think-is-best' moment. This may or may not be the moment where Marrow defects and runs.

Ironwood turns in surprise and sees someone or something, right before he's about to hit a button on his console. I personally think that this is the moment where Team Regicide aka Qrow and Robyn arrive in his office. I also think that he might have been about to activate the bomb here, but it could be anything, including controlling Penny if Watts gave him control.

Cinder is clearing rubble. Someone said this looks like Grimm landscape but there are wires and beams and girders, so I think she's inside. This might be her Watts jailbreak or something else, but I'm not sure yet. She's not moving with any sort of urgency, not using both hands to clear rubble like she would be if she needed to be moving quickly or was trying to dig someone out, so either she's in shock and doing it one at a time, or she's got time to kill here. I'm not sure.

Ruby gets tossed through a wall. To me, it looks like she's being tossed from the inside to the outside. I would not be surprised if Team RNBW + May split up with one half going to fix the generator and the others staying in the house, and I don't think Ruby will want to leave Penny. And Penny is the only threat inside the house. This is probably during the hacked!Penny fight if there is one, though it could be anything else. Sidenote, I like using 'Team RNBW' for that group because it can be pronounced 'Rainbow'.

Penny's eyes are red and hacked. I still believe that she has mental autonomy but her body is against her. I've also seen some people say that either Watts is controlling her, which I doubt because if this was the case then Watts could order her to fly to Salem now and that's like five birds with one stone, or Ironwood is controlling her, which would line up with him pressing buttons in his office and being frustrated when something goes wrong. There's a high chance that we're going to have a hacked!Penny fight and I don't think they'd pass up that opportunity. 

The now infamous acid-spitting Grimm arrives. It looks like it's chest has been carved out and the acid tube has been surgically added. I've seen two theories for this: that it's an Atlas experiment, or it's a Dr. Merlot (Grimm Eclipse) experiment. Since we’ve yet to see Dr. Merlot in series and the ending of Grimm Eclipse indicates he’s still active, this could be a fun way to throw him into the mix; I personally think they’ll hold onto him until Vacuo if anything, but it could be now too. This is also taking place at the Schnee estate. The green goop also kind of looks like Penny's 'blood' which makes me wonder if this thing attacked her, or if this gives credence to the theory that it's an Atlas experiment, just like Penny was.

Something busts through the cell wall and fire engulfs Qrow and Watts. Again, I have seen several theories on this: a) This is Cinder busting in to get Watts, or b) This is Raven busting in to get Qrow, which I kind of doubt because she should just be able to teleport into the same cell with him but I still want her to come get him. There’s also a chance that it’s none of the above and someone else is blowing their way in or some kind of accident happens to cause a breach (such as a crash). 

The electricity at Schnee mansion gets turned back on. This is expected. Not too big a deal.

Hazel enters a room. I’m betting that he’s walking in to the room where the Lamp is being kept. 

The Hound turns it’s head. It’s on the Schnee estate. This is also expected, and a slightly bigger deal.

Salem grabs Oscar’s face with her nails positioned right over his eyes. She’s getting frustrated. Either she’s talking to Oz and he’s giving her sass, or Oscar is spitting truth and she doesn’t like it, or something else. The only thing I want to point out about this shot is that Oscar does not seem to react when she grabs him. This may be because he’s being held in place by the imp arm on the back of his head, or she’s holding him too tight that he can’t react in a physical way, or we just can’t see it because this shot is a second long and Oscar is turned away from us, or Oscar is channeling his inner badass and not showing Salem that he’s scared, but for now, the fact that Oscar doesn’t seem to react...worries me a little. 

Ruby looks confused, and horrified. She’s looking at something extremely shocking, something she wasn’t expecting to see. She might be in shock. From this angle, it looks like she’s still inside the house, so for right now I think that this is her reaction to Penny waking up with red eyes and turning on them. But, I’ve also seen a theory that this is Ruby’s reaction to seeing someone she thought was long dead appearing in the form of the Hound. 

Last but not least, I want to talk about what Ironwood says in this trailer. He says: “I have always promised to defend this kingdom from those who would see it destroyed, no matter the cost.” For some context: I believe that Ironwood is going to face Salem alone. In the intro, he’s alone on a chessboard while all of his pieces fall around him. I also think that one of two people will be taking the bomb into the Monstra: Hazel, as I outlined in a previous prediction here, or Ironwood himself. And this speech could be him being his usual “I’ll do anything to stop Salem” self, but this...well. Let’s go back to Ironwood’s theme song, “Hero”: “I would die / Without regret, I’d offer up my life / With zero reservations / I would fly / Into the sun / If that would keep our dream alive...There’s no sacrifice / That I won’t make / I’ll risk it all / To keep you safe / Trust me to be strong / I’ll be your hero / Just hold on”. Ironwood has a massive hero complex. And he is yet to offer up the ultimate sacrifice, himself. And this...this sounds like a goodbye. This sounds like he’s about to walk away. This sounds like he’s about to sacrifice himself. And while I believe that the Hazel sacrifice theory is a huge possibility, especially since Hazel is the only candidate currently onsite, this makes me really start to wonder if Ironwood is making it out of this volume alive.

Alright, back to your regularly-scheduled scrolling, I’ll just be here beating my head against the wall for two more weeks.

[stillness-in-green]

The Way You Survive Is... (4/4)

One of the joys of meeting new people is gaining a new perspective.

(Things were always going to change after Deika. This, though, Rikiya did not see coming.)

Chapter Warnings: Spinner has a judgey streak a mile wide, but compared to everything that's come before, he's a veritable bodhisattva.  There are a few mentions of Rikiya’s injuries from Deika also.

Pre-ship for Spinner/Rikiya if you want it to be, but it starts because they're both Big Smitten for Shigaraki.

——— ��    ———      ———      ———

Chapter Four: Dealing With All the Todays and Tomorrows 

The end of it came unexpectedly, during Rikiya’s first meeting with his new leader after the hospital stay.  Rikiya had spent the better part of an hour in Shigaraki Tomura’s personal suite, members of the League drifting in and out from the living room (and Skeptic doubtlessly listening in as well) as Rikiya recounted the Liberation Army’s holdings and activities in exhaustive detail, precedent to its new Grand Commander deciding what he wanted to actually do with the organization he’d so suddenly found in his possession.  For all Rikiya’s preconceptions about him, Shigaraki Tomura had proven to have a keen interest in his new resources, asking a shocking number of pertinent questions about troop distribution, societal permeation, and goals-to-date.

Finally, though, they’d circled back to one of the very first things that had come up: Detnerat and its support goods, and, now, what sorts of creations might be in the offing for the members of the League.

“You may have seen Trumpet’s at the end—he was wearing it when he approached us.”  Rikiya hadn’t seen it himself, too focused on Shigaraki and what he might say, how to give voice to overflowing emotions of reverence and regret, how to plead for the lives of his followers in a way that stood any chance of success.  Still, he’d grown up with Trumpet’s voice; he knew all of its timbres, and the sound of it filtering through Sevens Loud was unmistakable. “But my Claustro was another.”

“The mech suit thing?”  Shigaraki was a gaunt, black-clad figure propped up against the headboard of the bed, all but swallowed up amongst the pillows scattered across the king-sized mattress.  He’d commandeered (and factory-reset) one of Skeptic’s laptops, though he hadn’t used it once during the whole of Rikiya’s presentation.  It sat open beside him, the screen turned away.

“The very same!  It was a pressure mechanism to boost my stress levels.  I’m having it rebuilt, of course.”  The influence of the painkillers in his system made it wonderfully easy to deliver that bit of news with such cheer.  Shigaraki gave him a long look, then snorted lightly.

“Don’t bother.”

It was like having his legs out from under him a second time.

“I’m—I’m sorry?”  Rikiya stumbled on the words, completely blindsided.

“I said, don’t bother,” Shigaraki repeated shortly.  “S’more expensive than it’s worth.”

“But it really is effective,” Rikiya argued—and oh, what was he doing, arguing with this young man?  He winced when Shigaraki turned the full force of an annoyed scowl on him, but forged on.  “I know I didn’t make the best showing of it in Deika, but if you give me another chance to demonstrate it, or even just let me show you the numbers—”

“What are you, into bondage or something?” Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed, and between that and the stab of nausea at the very thought, Rikiya broke into an uncomfortable sweat.  “You’re too desperate.”

“No,” he said slowly.  “It’s just that I want to be at my most effective for you.”

“You being at maximum effectiveness isn’t our most effective play, Mr. CEO.”  His young leader’s words dripped with scorn.  “I’m not blowing your cover on a fight.  Take the money you’d spend on that and earmark it.  We’ll figure out what to do with it when we’ve got our plans more in place.”

“Yes, sir.”  No more Claustro.  No more Claustro.

He rallied somewhat, the thought plucking at strings within him that hummed with a giddy delight that felt twenty—thirty—possibly younger than he’d ever felt in his life.  Stress was still important, of course, but if Shigaraki really did mean for him to lean into his business resources rather than utilize him in combat, then…

“Okay, I take one part of that back.”  Shigaraki, who’d been staring at him the entire time he was processing the command, rolled his eyes and turned away.  “I also want you to go get a massage or see a hooker or something.”

If he were on his prosthetics yet, Rikiya would surely have tripped over then.  It certainly did the trick for wiping whatever sort of glassily ecstatic look he’d had on his face back off it.  “I—I really don’t know that that’s necessary.”

Shigaraki pulled the computer back into his lap.  “Wasn’t asking for your opinion.  If I’m going to keep having to deal with you, I want you wound down, not wound further up.”

Wound down.  Rikiya tried to contemplate it and found himself at a loss.

“That will be a bit of a new endeavor for me, but I’m sure I can figure it out,” he said, and the words felt like an open rooftop—free air, but no guardrail in the way of a sharp drop.

———      ———

“So what exactly do you do to relax?” Spinner asked him a few weeks later when the two of them were, yet again, the last to clear out after a meeting ended.  Shigaraki had vanished off to his mysterious doctor’s lab three days prior, and already the absence of him hummed through the organization, crackling in the long stares his compatriots received in the hallways, the glances that moved between Rikiya and the new lieutenants, always landing back on him as if silently asking, Now?  Do we attack now, while their guard is down?  Just say the word. 

The members of the now-dissolved League seemed to be handling it with rather more aplomb, thankfully.  Dabi’s standoffish rudeness aside, all of them had found at least some aspect of the merger that they seemed to enjoy, be it Toga Himiko getting her choice of advisors who were willing to feed her hungers within safe boundaries, Sako Atsuhiro’s bright, malice-edged banter with Galvanize, and Bubaigawara Jin’s—well, he mostly seemed happy to be in good company. Rikiya had high hopes.

And then there was Spinner.

Rikiya gave him a politely blank stare at the question.  It wasn’t the first time he’d fielded such an inquiry—poor Miyashita had asked, and various colleagues at industry conferences, and a number of people back in university, but in all cases, a pat answer was required, a mistruth or a deft lie. Spinner was a compatriot in the true labor, the cause of Liberation, and, more to the point, he was now Rikiya’s peer. That demanded a more truthful response, but Rikiya didn’t have one that he suspected was on Spinner’s list of acceptable replies.

“I mean it,” Spinner said, insistent, and crossed his arms over his chest in what was becoming a familiar mannerism.  “Shigaraki told me to make sure you relax some while he’s gone, so spill it.”

“Shigaraki did?”  Rikiya blinked, touched, but moreover, surprised.

“Yeah, he did,” Spinner said, still looking combative. Was he less than pleased with such instructions himself, Rikiya wondered, or was this just his usual awkwardness with socialization?  “So what do you do for fun?  Golf?  Ski resorts?  I mean, we’ve got work to do, so you can’t just take off, but—”

“Spinner, I…”  Rikiya smiled, bemused.  You may as well say it.  “I’m not trying to be reticent.  It’s just that there isn’t anything.”  Spinner favored him with a supremely skeptical stare, and he reiterated, “Truthfully.  If Shigaraki thinks my—relaxing will be helpful for the cause, that would—well, it would be a first.”

“There’s gotta be something.”  Spinner’s face twisted into disbelief.  “A hobby, maybe?  Bonsai?  Archery?”

“How traditional,” Rikiya attempted the joke, already turning apologetic as the last of Spinner’s aggression dissolved into bafflement.  “But no, there really isn’t.  Perhaps we can try one of your past-times?”

“Mine are—uh…”  Oh.  He can blush. Isn’t that cute? Rikiya’s thoughts informed him as the scales around Spinner’s cheeks infused with red.

“It will probably all be a new experience to me,” Rikiya offered.  He smiled wider, more genuine.  “How exciting.”  His assurances did not seem to make the other man feel any better.  In fact, he looked a bit like he wanted to crawl up the wall and escape.

“I’d need to…  Uh.  Order some stuff in.”

“Of course, of course!  Our resources are completely at your disposal.”  Rikiya beamed.  “Shall we set a time for this weekend, then?”

Spinner somehow went redder still, but mumbled agreement all the same.

———      ———  

The room Spinner had settled on for the venture—video games, Trumpet had predicted dourly, and Skeptic had confirmed—was an out-of-the-way conference room, not the villa’s biggest or airiest, not a corner room or common area, but one of those little meeting spaces tucked away in the bowels of any large enough building, accessible only through three different turns down four different hallways, the sort of thing you only ever saw if you’d built it, you cleaned it, or you explored enormous buildings for fun. Iguchi Shuuichi certainly didn’t fit the bill for the first two options, leaving only the latter, and Rikiya could only wonder if Spinner had found the place in idle wanderings or as the result of a deliberate search.

Regardless, the electronics took up much of one end of the room, a large-screen monitor set up on a low table, along with a glowing computer tower, a game console and sizeable speakers.  Two curved black and red rocker chairs on the floor sat, Rikiya thought, rather closer to the screen than was probably recommended by the Ministry of Health and Welfare.  The back end of the room was mostly bare, a table shoved up against the wall with a few damaged chairs and gutted computer towers speaking to the room’s prior life as a storage space for office supplies awaiting repair or repurposing.

Not a bad metaphor, all things considered.  I wonder if he intended it.

“Oh, hey.”  The he in question stood up from behind the TV, dusting off his hands and starting when he caught sight of Rikiya.  “So you did show.”

“I did.  And dressed down, as requested.”  Rikiya spread his arms in brief demonstration of innocuous brown dress pants and a white button-down shirt, top button undone, cuffs rolled back twice.  It was hardly casual, but it was as close to it as he could manage on short notice.

Spinner had done a much better job of it, a hoodie and jeans replacing his normal tac vest and dark pants, his hair long enough to brush his shoulders, thick and bushy, when his usual goggles and band of cloth weren’t holding it up.  He could almost pass for a normal person on the street, save for all the knives—the one part of his costume he’d left on, sheathed and strapped to his side.

He glanced over Rikiya, looking not entirely convinced—he was an open book generally, and being able to clearly see his forehead (rather high, actually) made reading his expressions even easier—but conceded a nod.

“Well…  Have a seat, I guess.”  He slid a remote control on the floor towards the two chairs with his foot.

Rikiya closed the door behind him, privately thankful for the barrenness of the other end of the room—he could almost pretend the room wasn’t functionally a cellar with all that clear space at his back—and made his way over to one of the rockers, easing himself into it.  It had been literal years since he’d been expected to settle into a casual seating arrangement with someone who wasn’t in his inner circle, and even those had mostly been relegated to the dinners as they’d all gotten older and busier with work.  Typically the chairs were higher off the ground.

Curious would have laughed at this for days.  He set the thought aside, accurate though it was, and shot Spinner an expectant smile as the man picked up a pair of controllers and thrust one out at him.

“Are you sure it’s all right that I haven’t touched one of these since university?” Rikiya asked.  He took the device and experimentally fit his grip around the handles, turning it over to examine the array of buttons and controls.

“It’s fine,” Spinner responded.  “I’m pretty sure games like this all teach you how to play them as you go.”  He sat down in his own rocker and angled himself slightly in Rikiya’s direction.  “So wait, what did you play in school?”

Hardly something Rikiya had committed to memory, given how much else had been going on in his life at the time.  He dredged up what he could anyway.

“Some sort of game where players would select a character to fight another player’s character.  Martial arts-themed, as I recall.  There was one that involved some sort of government agent killing zombies. And I had a friend in a study group who always going on about the last game in a series he enjoyed.  Something with ‘Fantasy’ in the title.”

Spinner muttered something under his breath that might have been Oh, boy and might have been Normies, and turned on the TV, simultaneously pressing the center button on his own controller. As the screen blinked on, resolving into a home screen for the game console, he flicked over to an entry labeled Seed, the image a single bright red flower on a black background.  A few logos later, they arrived at the title screen, which flickered periodically through homophonous kanji (Truth, Interval, Wait), and Spinner talked him through selecting New Game, Two-Player, and selecting himself as Player One.

The game began with a figure—small, features undefined beneath the hood of a simple blue robe—standing in a dim, firelit cave, a few shelves mounted on the walls.  A simple tutorial involved moving about the cave collecting items off the shelves: a bag, a canteen, and a small spade.  All basic joystick controls, a simple press-X-to-interact, and then the figure extinguished the fire with a spadeful of ashes and walked unprompted into the dim tincture of daylight on one side of the screen.

Outside, a short video showed the screen’s view expanding from the flat two-dimensionality of the cave to more sprawling environs of a lush forest, all dappled greens and yellows.  Tangles of vines proved impassable as Rikiya wandered up to them, attempting interaction to no avail.

“It’s not full open-world, but there’s not a time limit or anything, so you can poke around all you want,” Spinner offered, watching Rikiya uncertainly steer himself around the screen.

“And the goal is?”  A soundtrack had kicked in, a pleasant and melodic string piece, interspersed with birdsong when Rikiya passed close to a flash of feathers in the verdant tapestry.

“You’ll find out when you trip over it.  Just look for anything interesting.”

Rikiya obediently headed down the way that seemed generally laid out, noting a patch of particularly sunny ground up ahead.  “And where do you come in?  Or do we take turns?”

“The two-player functionality is for later on.” Spinner shifted positions to tuck one foot under himself—less sitting, more perching—the controller tucked in his lap. “You’ll see.”

Rikiya hummed assent and returned his focus to the screen, where a button prompt saw the character stooping down into a kneel and using her—his? its?—tools to dig a hole, drop in a seed from the bag, and recover it before pouring a small measure of water over it.  A circling motion of their hand followed, some silent little ritual, and in response, a flower bloomed up from the spot, small but brilliantly red.

The character didn’t immediately rise, but the screen shifted focus slightly, and when Rikiya nudged a joystick, they returned to their feet, and so he set out through the trees again.  He spotted another sunny patch before long, on a raised bluff, which lead to a new button option that resulted in a quick climbing animation and, shortly, a yellow flower glowing in the sun.

As promised, the controls were intuitive, and soon Rikiya had planted two more seeds and been forced to leave one promising-looking spot alone when the character proved unable to make the necessary climb. The next wrinkle presented itself shortly after—an empty canteen.  Further exploration yielded a small brook, glittering in the light, and the ability to refill his water supply.  A line of stones offered passage across the stream, and Rikiya paused, considering the implicit invitation to press forward.  But after a moment, he doubled back, watering the planted seed (a purple flower this time) before heading back towards the brook.

“You’re gonna be one of those 100% completion types, huh?” Spinner observed from where he’d been watching without comment since weighing in that the unreachable spot from before might be a New Game Plus thing.

Rikiya turned the phrase over in his head, then smiled slightly.  “Probably,” he allowed.  “Is that a problem?  I could prioritize progress instead of thoroughness.”

“You’re playing, not me.  Just play how you want.”  A hint of rolled eye suffused the words, and the combination brought back the memory of Shigaraki on the stage—We’re gonna do whatever we want!—a study in contrasts: a hand-tailored black suit worn with ratty red sneakers, sprawled like a street thug in a chair that belonged in a gentlemen’s club, wrapped in bandages with one splinted leg, but still speaking in a voice so effortlessly confident it gave Rikiya chills to remember.

Whatever we want.

“Is that part of the exercise here?” he asked; his voice emerged strangely hushed to his own ears.  That Shigaraki’s presence could have such an effect, even in his absence… Rikiya held back a sigh.  Trumpet had given him a very sharp glance the last time he’d sighed over Shigaraki and it came out revealingly wistful.

He’d half-expected Spinner to respond in denial or confusion—real or feigned, he’d not decided—but Spinner only sat quietly for a long moment before answering with, “If that’s what it takes, I guess.”

“To get me to relax?”  On the TV, the camera shifted perspectives—another video—to watch the character pass between two enormous trees, screen fading to black for a few seconds before returning to show a new landscape, the terrain hillier, the trees more sparse.  For the first time, sky was visible, a patchwork field of blue tumbled over with clouds.

Spinner shifted in place, the movement bespeaking awkwardness.  He tapped his claws over the controller in his lap, a drum of keratin on plastic.

“…Look, this is gonna sound pretty bad, but you’re—it’s like you’re on a commercial, all the time.  Mr. Compress feels less fake than you do sometimes, and I haven’t seen his real face the whole time I’ve known him.  The only time you feel real is when you talk about Shigaraki and how ‘liberated’ he is.”

“I believe it very much,” Rikiya offered, then fell quiet, because it wasn’t the right time to interrupt, and also, the wistfulness had just been waiting for him to speak again to leak out into his voice.

“Right, but—Shigaraki’s gone.  For the next four months.  We’ve gotta keep this thing together until he gets back, and—you know we’re the only ones who really care about it.”  Spinner’s shoulders had gone taut, Rikiya found when he looked over at the other man, his scaled fingers wrapped around the game controller.  “Shigaraki said something about you having an aneurysm, and I know he was just joking, but your whole thing is about stress.  And if that’s why you feel like you don’t ever not have a game-face on, then.”  He made a sudden frustrated sound, scratching at his hair.

“It doesn’t matter how you play the game,” he went on, just as Rikiya was opening his mouth to respond.  “This isn’t the kind of game you can lose.  You can just—play it how you want and nothing’s riding on it.  So you don’t have to turn around and ask me what’s the right way to do it.  Just—play it however feels right to you.”

On the screen, the little figure in blue with their inscrutable face had knelt, clothes moving slightly with a simulated breath.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much practice with—not having a ‘game-face’ on,” Rikiya said at last.  He thought about debating the assertion that no one else in his erstwhile organization cared about the new venture, but it was true that his own closest companions were making little attempt to hide their dissatisfaction.  Skeptic, of course, was quite vocal, but Trumpet, too, was entirely missing his usual charm around fellow warriors.  As for Geten, well, it was only a wonder that none of the League had commented yet about how long the ice in their drinks could last before melting.

“Yeah,” Spinner said with a shortness that Rikiya translated to, That’s obvious.  “But it’s just the two of us down here.  I won’t tell if you won’t.  Shigaraki’s the only other one who likes video games, anyway,” he added in a grumble.

“I’m surprised you all could find time for such things,” Rikiya said, which felt safer than anything else, to which Spinner snorted.

“We couldn’t.  I think he’s too practical to lug around a game system when he’s on the run. What’d he even hook it up to?  But he does that thing where he talks in gaming metaphors when he’s thinking about strategy.”  A mix of exasperation and fondness colored his voice.

“Do you suppose he might join us for this”—Rikiya waved the controller vaguely at the screen—“when he returns to us?”

Spinner’s cheeks colored slightly, and with a plaintive note, he answered, “I have no idea.  He—I don’t know.”  Rikiya made a questioning noise, lifting his brows, and Spinner shot him a look of residual distrust before relenting.  “He’s always either on or off.  No in-between.”

A somewhat garbled bit of metaphor, but Rikiya understood, if not the sentiment, then at least the dazed origin.  Still, he was learning things about Shigaraki Tomura, and there was a distinct thrill to that, to find a kindred spirit in this new cause, to see a look of mixed incomprehension and wonder in someone’s face that felt correspondent with his own.

“He’ll probably need some time to recover from the surgery, at least,” Spinner concluded after another moment on consideration.  “I guess we can ask.  The worst he can do is laugh at us.”  A beat of silence, then he amended, “The worst he would do is laugh at us.

“What?” he asked, suddenly defensive as he looked into Rikiya’s eyes.

“Mm?” Rikiya blinked at him.

“You’re smiling at me funny,” Spinner accused, and Rikiya blinked, realizing the truth of it.  He was smiling—still was, in fact, the expression oddly resilient even under the force of Spinner’s raised hackles.

“Apologies,” Rikiya murmured, still staring at the way Spinner’s beak twisted around an awkward scowl as he looked away, lilac pink eyes narrow.

“Just get back to the game,” he muttered.

“Ah, of course.”

——— 

It was a rather nice little experience, in the end.  The game progressed through different environmental stages, growing more barren from forest to plain to desolate shoreline and eventually into an abandoned city, all shattered glass and cracked asphalt and dim skies, hinting at some sort of apocalypse. It encouraged exploration of its different areas, with well-placed lulls in activity to take in its vistas and views (and it really did have exquisite color design), and each new area requiring more ingenuity to find water or soft earth or even sunlight.  In the third area, the second player’s role became clear, as the main character encountered some sort of wind spirit (hinted to be a ghost in the second-to-last stage) that could reach and manipulate areas and objects out of the main player’s grasp, as well give their jumps a modest boost.

The whole thing climaxed in a grueling slog through a blasted wasteland, all pale ash and white-hot sunlight and scouring winds. As played by Spinner, the spirit pushed insistently at the main character’s back even as their steps began to falter, and when they finally collapsed, it was in the shadow of their own body that they planted their final seed.  The wind spirit—now in ghost form again—pushed the ashes over the hole as the cloaked figure dribbled out the last of their water, then, together, they performed the ritual gesture, both hands moving as one.  A long, tense moment followed—predictable in the cinematic sense, but by then Rikiya was far too absorbed to quibble—before the seed unfolded into a red flower.  Seconds passed, and then another blossom found its way out of the sere earth some distance away from the fallen figure in blue.  It was followed by others, and the whole time, the red flower grew and grew, until a graceful tree, branches draped in crimson, stood at the center of the field of brilliant colors.

The credits rolled over a sweeter, fuller version of the game’s main theme, and a final little scene showed the two characters at the entrance to the cave from the beginning of the game, the blue-cloaked figure watching the canopy of the forest as the wind spirit toyed with a swirl of leaves.

“Well,” Rikiya said.  He and Spinner had not been entirely silent since the exchange about Shigaraki, but Rikiya had let him set the pace of conversation.  That had led to Spinner asking again, during the first beach area, whether Rikiya really had no hobbies to speak of; when asked in turn about his own, he had—reluctantly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm—talked about his personal favorite games. Rikiya was left with the distinct impression that Seed was not the sort of game Spinner normally favored, which showed a generosity of spirit Rikiya thought best rewarded by not drawing attention to it.

“That was a very charming experience,” he went on, ordering his thoughts for discussion—and also stretching out what remained of his legs; he would need to make some time for physical therapy after this.

“Was it relaxing, though?” Spinner asked, striking Rikiya to a chuckle with his blunt focus.

“I think the ending was tense enough to keep it from being entirely relaxing,” he said after giving the question due consideration. “But it felt like the intention was more to be cathartic, and it was that.”  Rikiya felt a rare lightness in his body—not as profound as Shigaraki overthrowing all his burdens, certainly, but—akin to it, perhaps.  A sense of stress expunged that, prior to Deika, he had typically only experienced after spars, and it had been rarer and rarer for him to take part in those as the years went on, much less expend any significant amount of stress in doing so.

“It was a wonderful tone piece,” he went on. “I think it would have been that much just to watch it, but the interactivity gives it its real impact. I can see why it’s well-regarded.”

Spinner nodded, uncertainty lingering in his eyes. “So—do you want to try to do it again sometime?”

“I’d be happy to.  You should bring some of the games you talked about next time.”  He paused as Spinner first brightened, then visibly tamped himself down and turned his attention to the game, beginning the process of exiting and turning off all the various components with a cursory mumble of agreement to Rikiya’s suggestion.

Unfortunately, with Spinner once again getting cagey, the sense of the contours of the room was creeping back in.  The transporting nature of the game was confined to the experience of playing it, and outside that, it really was quite a small room.  And if they did convince Shigaraki Tomura to join them, all the presence and intensity of him in such close quarters…  The thought tightened a cord around Rikiya’s chest, hope and fear mingled in the remembrance of the sublime.

If I’m going to have to keep having to deal with you, I want you wound down, not wound further up.

There is one thing you could ask for.  It was a small thing to ask in some ways, a large one in others, and if he let himself linger on it, he would doubtlessly talk himself out of it, which seemed disrespectful to the amount of time and effort his companion had devoted to this whole endeavor.

“Spinner,” he said abruptly, and the man looked back over at him with a small, suspicious frown and wary eyes.  “The next time we do this…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we might do it somewhere with windows?”

Should I explain?  Would he even want to hear about something like that?  Can I even talk about something like that?

Spinner studied him for a long moment, and Rikiya wondered suddenly how much more Shigaraki might have told him, about their confrontation, about the Claustro, about—well, about whatever conclusions Shigaraki had come to.  As the seconds stretched on, he felt the tiny curve of a smile on his face, not the expression of someone brimming with happiness to be shared, but the resigned air of someone awaiting a trial.  Not his best work, it had to be said.

“Yeah,” Spinner finally said.  “That’s fine.”

The answer—Spinner’s decision not to press—felt like a weight lifting.  A small one, to be sure.  But it was…

Well, it was a start.

…And perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to look into finding a few video games to bring in himself next time, too.

———      ———      ———      ———

Seed may look like a complete rip-off of Journey, but it also takes some inspiration from Prune, Monument Valley, Flower and a dash of Gris as well. It's using the verb-form of its titular word, which in Japanese would be pronounced ma, as would be the other kanji mentioned. (The kanji for devil has the same pronunciation, but the game devs didn't include it.)

Thanks for reading, all!

[ryder-s-block]

Jaig Eyes (Ch 64)

Jaig Eyes (64/?)

Summary:

Kida, a former slave who now thrives as a bounty hunter, finds herself sucked into the war she advised Jango Fett against. Now that she’s involved, she has to finally mourn the loss of Jango, seeing his face in the clones that man the GAR. What happens when she allows herself to get attached to one, not for his resemblance to her former mentor, but for his heart?

————————-

Chapter Sixty-Four: Hardcase

“Are we sure Hardcase should be the one trying this first?” I asked, watching as the tattooed clone sat in the pilot’s chair of an Umbaran starfighter.

“Hey, I already flew one of these,” he called back, the seat lifting to place him in the ray-shielded orb.

“If you called that flying,” I muttered, but let it slide. I leaned against the console, watching Fives as he worked to keep an eye on things.

“All right,” the ARC trooper announced, the power surging to life as he seemed to hit the right button. “Okay, there. Try that out. It should be a little easier than last time.”

“I wonder why that is,” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows at my friend. He rolled his eyes, but we all knew that my bypassing the Umbaran fail-safes had made our further exploration of the starfighters even possible.

The ship rose steadily under Hardcase’s guidance, but it didn’t take long to start looking a bit rocky in the air. “Keep her steady,” I yelled up, hearing him mumble something in response. If it was to himself or me, I couldn’t be sure.

He seemed to get it….for a second.

And then the ship was careening sideways, swiping over piles of crates and nearly taking out clones. “Get down!” I yelled, dragging Fives sideways to barely avoid being taken out by the wing as the starship scraped past.

“Hardcase,” Fives cried up at his brother, “What are you doing?”

“If I knew, I wouldn't be doing it!”

I rolled my eyes, stepping out from behind the ARC trooper to try and instruct Hardcase as best I could. This was why I wanted to be the first one to pilot. “Keep your hands level!”

He didn’t seem to hear me, the starfighter still wreaking havoc as it crashed around the hangar. “Great,” Fives grumbled beside me. “This can’t get much worse.”

A beeping went off, both of us whirling to see a trooper at a console, trying to connect with the command tower. “Osik,” I cussed, hitting Fives’ shoulder to get him to move. “Handle that, I’ll get Hardcase under control.”

Fives didn’t argue, running over to shove the clone out of his way. I heard Krell’s voice on the other side, my efforts doubling to get Hardcase to control the ship. Fives did his best to stumble through lies as Hardcase knocked over another starship.

“That didn’t work,” I heard him exclaim from inside. 

I darted across the hangar, scaling the toppled starfighter and using it to launch from. I jumped to Hardcase’s craft as he spun by, barely gripping the wing. “Level your--” My yell was interrupted as Hardcase clenched his hand, the starship firing wildly. “Not that!” I cried as we spun through the air. We knocked into walls and other fighters, making me have to pin my body between the cockpit and the wing. “Level your hands!” I screamed through the rayshield, the clone obeying.

He got some control, a grin wrinkling the skin around his eyes. “Okay. How about this?” He clenched his hand into a fist again, turning it in the navigation orb. The missile launcher beside me engaged.

“Hardcase!” I screamed, the launcher beside me getting hot. 

“Oh, no, no!” I heard him yell. But it was too late. I leapt from my place on the wing, falling hard to the hangar floor in a calculated roll. “No! No! No! No! No!” The starfighter hit the wall behind it, the missile launching and decimating the hangar door in a rather satisfying explosion.

“We are so screwed,” I muttered from my place in the ground as Hardcase seemed to finally get control of the vessel.

“I got it. I got it,” he announced. “Just level your hands.” He set the fighter down with a thud as Fives approached, my eyes rolling.

“I’ve been saying that,” I grumbled, cracking my back as I stood.

“Are you crazy?” Fives asked as he approached us, Hardcase getting out of the starfighter. “You could have gotten us killed! Not to mention ruining our hopes of flying this mission.”

Hardcase rose from his seat, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “It’s a malfunction. No harm done.”

“Explain this. Now.” I jumped at Krell’s voice, having not sensed his approach. Wow….my senses really were clouded here. The Besalisk was pissed off, if nothing else, Rex behind him with a disappointed look on his face.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I stood slightly behind Fives and Hardcase. Krell’s gaze flicked dangerously to me, but I kept silent. 

Hardcase stepped forward first. “Sir, we were decrypting the enemy craft when what appears to be a booby trap went off.” He folded his hands behind his back, selling his lie well. I fought back the grin that threatened to lift my lips.

“A booby trap?” Krell repeated.

“Yes, sir. The fighter went haywire and had I not been able to get control of it and aim the missile at the doors, then something worse….might have happened.” Okay, that part wasn’t sold quite as well, but Krell seemed to accept Hardcase’s story.

“Is this true?” he asked Fives.

“Uh-” Fives started. “Yes, sir.” Krell’s gaze flicked to me, but I only nodded mutely, averting my gaze. I felt Krell ripple with pleasure at that. I fought back the urge to shoot him again. “That is what happened,” Fives responded. “No doubt.” 

Behind Krell, Rex gave us all a disbelieving scowl. How little Krell thought of the clones was his own downfall in this situation. Rex knew entirely how clever and mischievous the clones could be. Especially Fives and Hardcase. 

Krell didn’t. Nor did he expect it.

“Well, Captain Rex,” Krell said, the captain straightening under the general’s gaze. “Looks like I was correct.” I frowned, unsure. “The Umbaran fighters are dangerous and not fit for flight.” Ah. So Krell accepted the story because it benefited him.

If it hadn’t, I had a feeling we’d all have been court martialed by now. 

“But sir,” Hardcase spoke up, “We now know how they work. We just need practice.” I glanced at the ground, knowing Krell wouldn’t agree.

“Sir,” I spoke up, surprising even myself. “I understand your reasoning for not wanting them to go. They’re not pilots. But if I may, I’m a trained pilot, and a pretty good one at that. I could take a fighter and--”

“Absolutely not.” I stopped at Krell’s harsh tone, the Besalisk whirling to glare at me. “I made the mistake of trusting you before, Sithling, and I will not be making that mistake again.” He was practically hissing at me, but I kept the scowl from my expression. I’d learned to keep my face placid as a slave, after all. “Lock down these fighters,” he commanded as he walked away, ending the discussion. “I don’t want anything else exploding.”

The clones looked to their captain expectantly, but Rex only rolled his eyes tiredly. He didn’t look at me as he turned to follow his general from the hangar.

“Nice work,” Fives grumbled as he hit Hardcase in the shoulder. “Now we know how to fly them and we won’t be able to get near them.”

Hardcase sat, rolling his eyes at his brother. “Oh, come on, that won’t stop us. It’s just procedure. We can sneak in and be out before Krell knows anything.”

I crossed my arms. “I am pretty good at stealing things,” I added with a grin.

We all turned to the sound of clapping, seeing an amused Jesse approach. “I thought the plan was to destroy the enemy ship with the fighters,” he clapped Hardcase on the back with a laugh, “Not blow up our own hangar.”

“Look, I agree we should go through with this,” Fives cut in, all business, “So are you three volunteering to be my pilots or what?”

“I’m in,” Hardcase smiled, “Regardless of the consequences.”

Jesse crossed his arms. “Flying these fighters beats blindly walking into a bunch of missiles, so I’m in.”

They all looked at me, to which I shrugged. “I’ve been in on this plan from the beginning. And I won’t just sit here while Krell sends you all to your deaths.” Fives nodded at me in thanks.

“We just need a plan,” Jesse mused.

Fives grinned. “Already got one. General Skywalker blew up a droid control ship when he was just a kid, and he told me the trick was hitting their main reactor from the inside.” My brow lifted in mild amusement. Partially at the fact that Anakin was apparently good at this fighting stuff before becoming the Jedi Knight I knew him to be. And partially at the fact that Anakin clearly liked to gloat by telling that story.

“Oh,” Hardcase chuckled. “Well, that won’t be so tough.”

Fives breathed slowly. “Gear up and meet at the fence. We should catch Rex before he goes on patrol.” I tensed, but did my best to disguise it.

The others nodded, heading off to the barracks where they were supposed to be. Fives remained with me, cutting me a glance. “What?” I asked gruffly, not turning to look at him.

“You don’t seem excited to tell Rex.”

“Why would we?” I asked, shrugging. “He doesn’t agree with us doing it anyways.”

Fives watched me for a moment before sighing. “He agrees it’s a good plan.”

“But it’s not Krell’s plan.”

“You know better than most that Rex struggles with this.” His voice was soft. I knew he was frustrated, too, but he loved his brother. And he respected him. Just like I did. Still, I didn’t respond, nodding mutely as I led us from the hangar. 

We met the others at the fence, Fives thankfully dropping the conversation. We followed the patrol out, seeing Rex’s armor from behind. He turned, seeing us approaching in our full armor, my mask and goggles on to hide my expression.

“Fives,” Rex said, still ignoring me. “What are you doing out here? You should all be in the barracks.”

“I found my pilots,” Fives responded simply, a flash of fear coursing through Rex when he realized I was one of them. “We’re going after that supply ship.”

Rex removed his helmet, stepping us all to the side. “Are you out of your minds? It’s a suicide mission, not to mention against orders.” His eyes flicked to me for the first time when he said ‘suicide mission.’ 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Fives said firmly.

“We have to try,” Jesse spoke up beside me.

Rex was quiet. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “It sounds like you intend to go through with it.”

“If you’re going to try to stop us,” Fives announced, “We need to know.”

The captain closed his eyes slowly, letting out a sigh. “I can’t help you when you get caught.”

“I understand, sir.” Fives turned, leading the others back towards the airbase. And to our….suicide mission. I stayed for a second longer, watching Rex from behind my goggles. 

I turned, but stopped at his voice. “Kida--” he seemed hesitant to continue. I stayed still, not turning around to look at him. 

“I’m doing this, Rex.”

“I know.” He sounded broken and my heart immediately began to ache. I turned, seeing his eyes downcast. “I just wish--”

“I know,” I said softly, taking a step closer. There were no clones near us, all of them having spread out to sweep the perimeter under Rex’s command. 

“You could die.”

“If we don’t do this, we’re all guaranteed to die when we march on the capital,” I argued gently. There was no fire in my voice anymore, my anger depleted with my energy. And with the reality that I might not come back from the mission. I might not come back to Rex.

Rex breathed slowly. “Even if you succeed, do you realize what you’re doing?” I was quiet, knowing he’d fill the silence with his answer. “You’ll all be court martialed. You’ll be imprisoned or worse--” his voice cut out with emotion, his head turning to hide his features in shadow. When he spoke again, his words were quiet. They sounded...young. “I don’t want to add your name to the list I say at night.” He shook his head. “I won’t.”

I surged forward, grabbing the clone roughly by the armor and pulling him to me. Pressing my lips to his, I poured out all of my emotions into his skin. My fear of never seeing him again. My anger at Krell. My sorrow at the men we’d already lost.

When we parted, we were breathless both from the kiss and the daring of doing such a thing in the open. Still, I felt like I had little to lose, considering the fate Rex had explained for me. I wrapped my arms around his armored shoulders, holding him to me, my face nestled in his neck. 

He smelled like sweat and battle, but the underlying scent of my captain was in there too. The sterility of his armor. The oil he rubbed into his pistols. There was even a small hint of the soaps he used in the fresher at my club apartment. 

When I finally pulled away, Rex seemed reluctant to let go despite the risk of being seen. I looked into his eyes, trying to express my love with only a look. “I understand. But I can’t sit here and let you march to your death when there’s something I could do to prevent it.” I shook my head. “I don’t want you on my list, either.” Rex didn’t seem to have words, the golden gaze sad, but resigned to my decision. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

I turned and ran back towards the airbase.

-----------------

When I caught up to the others, they were making their way across the base towards four Umbarans starfighters. We moved quickly, staying out of sight as we hopped into the pilot seats.

I had yet to be in one, but figured it out quickly as I was surrounded by the ray shield and placed inside the ship. It came to life with a low hum, navigation orbs appearing around my hands. I leveled my hands, lifting them steadily to bring the starfighter to a higher altitude. I glanced over the base, thinking for a moment that I might have seen Rex’s armor somewhere.

I punched it, the starship taking me and the clones far from the base and up towards the atmosphere. “Woah,” I whistled into the comms, “These things really have a kick to them.”

“These things are trickier than I imagined,” Jesse admitted from his fighter. “I hope this is a good idea!”

“Well, it’s better than Krell’s plan,” Fives shot back.

“You know, I’m only doing this because I don’t like him.” I laughed at Jesse’s words, letting them ease the tension from the situation.

“That’s reason enough,” Fives said.

Hardcase’s laugh sounded through the comms. “I’m just doing it for fun!”

We came up through the clouds, emerging to find a battle raging in the sky. “Woah!” Fives yelled. “What the-” The battle before us was massive, filled with various star destroyers and Separatist command ships alike. Missiles and lasers were speckling the sky like a light show. “Try to fly steady,” Fives commanded. “We’re going in.”

“Form up on me,” I chimed in, guiding my craft into the leading position. “And on one fire. The Umbarans think we’re on their side and our guys think we’re the enemy. Draw as little attention as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” they all responded immediately, doing their best to fall into formation. The formality was weird between us, but I ignored it for now. Surviving was the first thing on my list.

I led us through the battle, skirting along edges of Separatist ships to try and get some cover. “I’m really not liking this,” Hardcase announced as we dipped under a Republic starship that crashed into the Separatist hangar in a ball of flames.

“Easy, Hardcase,” Fives replied. “Don’t get an itchy trigger finger.” 

I ignored them, focusing on guiding us through the hellish battle. I tuned the clones out, letting the Force guide my hands in the navigation orbs. A squad of Umbarans formed up on our right flank, Jesse’s ship shifting nervously.

“Easy,” I said gently into the comms, feeling the clones’ nerves. “Don’t react.” After a moment, the squadron peeled off to engage more fighters.

“Looks like they think we’re Umbaran, alright,” Jesse observed with a small sigh of relief.

“Supply ship dead ahead,” I announced as it came into view.

“Let’s do this,” Hardcase responded, pushing his thrusters harder to race towards the hangar.

We entered the ship at break-neck speed, not daring to slow down and risk being identified. We blew past some droids, a few shattering under the impact of our wings. Alarms blared, the droids opening fire in a hailstorm of red bolts.

“Well, they know we’re here,” I announced, guiding my ship around the curve of the hangar.

Ahead, the hangar doors were beginning to close. “Why did they have to go and do that?” Hardcase asked before clenching his fist, sending ahead to obliterate the obstacle. I dipped sideways, barely avoiding the exploding debris.

One piece hit Hardcase’s wing, making it erupt in smoke. “Careful!” I yelled, still careful as I flew at an impossibly fast speed.

“Reactor core locked,” Fives voiced as we drew closer to the core. “Prepare missiles.” The core came into view. “Fire!”

I thrust my clenched hand forward, missiles launching from all of our vessels...only to strike a crimson ray shield. “Heads up!” I pulled back hard, my ship swirling with the momentum as I stopped just before the ray shields.

I turned my ship to the approaching army of droids, opening fire on their numbers with the blasters. “This might have been a bad idea after all,” Fives admitted to my dismay.

“Our shields are sure taking a beating,” Jesse cried, my own alarms sounding inside my ship.

“We can’t turn back now!” I turned in my seat to see Hardcase leaping from his ship. “Cover me!”

“Hardcase get back in your ship,” Fives cried, but he was ignored.

“This is for the 501st! Don’t wait for me!” I watched in horror as Hardcase pulled his damaged missile launched from the wing of his ship, guiding around the access door and past the ray shields. 

“Hardcase!” I screamed as I moved my ship into position to shield him better. “No!”

“You’ve disobeyed enough orders today, sir,” he said, glancing between all of us with a warm smile. “Follow this one. Get out of here!”

My heart clenched as I kept firing at the droids, my eyes growing wet as the Force grew darker….as it always did around those that were heading to their death. 

“If I know Hardcase,” Jesse said through the comms, his voice solemn, “We better leave.”

I knew he was right. I pushed my fists forward, my ship launching back down the hangar with Fives and Jesse. The reactor exploded moments after, my goggles fogging with my tears. I shook them away, my ship rumbling at the explosion chased after us, licking at our thrusters.

We made it out, the supply ship crumbling in a fury of orange and yellow. Despite the victory, my heart ached as we slowed over the airbase. 

The ships landed with a thud, Five leaping down immediately. He was greeted by Rex and Tup, both of whom looked pleased to see us. I stayed in my seat as I was slowly lowered from the starfighter, my heart heavy.

“They did it,” I heard Tup exclaim, the young clone rushing up to meet Fives and Jesse. I stayed behind, watching with a sad gaze. I knew we’d saved a lot of lives….but losing Hardcase was something I’d hoped to avoid by doing the mission.

And I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I had acted faster….thought quicker….maybe I could have saved him.

“Where’s Hardcase?” Tup’s question made me look down at my hands in sorrowful thought.

Fives and Jesse removed their helmets, the former responding, “He didn’t make it.”

Their eyes were downcast. “We couldn’t have done it without him,” Jesse said sadly. Rex looked down for a moment before lifting his eyes to me. He seemed glad I was alive, but worried.

There was the hiss of doors, revealing two armed clones approaching, led my Appo. I stood from my seat slowly, already knowing what this would be. 

“General Krell would like to see them in the tower,” Appo announced, glancing over Fives, Jesse, and I.

Rex gave us all a worried glance before nodding at the soldier. “I’ll escort them up.” The clones left us, the captain dismissing Tup as we entered the lift at the base of the tower.

I kept my eyes straight, not wanting to show Rex the nerves I was feeling. I knew he was already worrying. That wasn’t something I wanted to make worse.

The doors snapped open with a hydraulic hiss. Krell stood in the center of the room with his back to us, examining a hologram of the planet. “You...wanted to see them, sir?”

“Indeed,” the Besalisk responded, not turning to us. We all exchanged a glance. “It seems they have accomplished a very brave act. Unfortunately, they’ve also committed a serious crime by directly disobeying my order.” He turned to look at us, acting as if this was difficult for him to admit. I couldn’t even hide the scowl on my face.

“With all due respect, sir,” Rex said, stepping forward to my surprise. “The order to attack the cargo vessel was mine.”

“Rex,” I hissed, my anger flaring. Him taking the fall with me would do nothing for us. I could maybe get out of this, as a contracted bounty hunter. But Rex?

But the captain wouldn’t be deterred. “If there’s a punishment to be given, it should be directed towards me. I’m their commanding officer.”

Fives stepped forward before I could. “General, sir, Captain Rex is attempting to take the blame for actions that were clearly mine.”

“Fives,” Rex bit, much like I had the moment before.

The ARC trooper glanced at him, but wouldn’t be silenced. “I request that his admission of guilt be denied and full blame placed upon me.” I shook my head, but still could say nothing as Krell spoke.

“Oh, do you?” he asked, arms crossed before him. “You willfully countermand my direct order, and now you have the audacity to request who should bare the punishment of your insurrection!” I flinched, watching Krell out of the corner of my eye as he moved to stand in front of Rex. “Let me be clear about the punishment for the treason committed by ARC Trooper 5555 and CT-5597.” The Besalisk paused, glancing at me. “And Kida Fett.” I swallowed, but didn’t break our gaze. He looked away to glare at Rex again. “They will be court-martialed, they will be found guilty, and they will be executed!”

Rex’s mind blossomed with anger and fear….but also resignation. This was as much a punishment for him as it was for us. Krell knew that.

“Make no mistake,” he growled, turning back to his holograms as clones appeared behind us with binders. “For crossing me, you will pay the price.” 

-----------------------

MANDO’A

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum -- I love you

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 8

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 8 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 8/? SUMMARY: The Doctor’s death is looming on the horizon and Elise is growing every day. What the Doctor doesn’t know is that he has 200 years to teach Elise all he knows. Amy, Rory, and River let Elise in on their secret, because River knows she will keep it. What will Elise do when he’s gone?

[A/N - I know I said a new chapter on Monday but I really wanted to watch and write today once I got home.]

When River, the Doctor, Rory, and Elise got to the children’s home, they found Canton pointing a gun at a door.

“Okay, gun down. I've got it,” the Doctor told him. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and soniced the lock.

“Amy, we're here. Are you okay?” Rory asked.

“I can't see!” Amy cried.

The Doctor opened the door and they rushed in.

The room was empty except for the spacesuit that was lying on the floor.

“Where is she, Doctor?” Rory asked.

The Doctor soniced the spacesuit and River pulled up the visor. “It's empty,” she said.

“It's dark. So dark. I don't know where I am. Please, can anybody hear me?” Amy’s voice asked. Amy’s nanorecorder was lying on the floor, flashing.

Rory picked it up. “They took this out of her. How did they do that, Doctor? Why can I still hear her?”

“Is it a recording?” River asked.

The Doctor soniced the recorder. “Um, it defaults to live. This is current. Wherever she is right now, this is what she's saying.”

“Amy, can you hear me? We're coming for you. Wherever you are, we're coming, I swear,” Rory said.

“She can't hear you. I'm so sorry. It's one way,” the Doctor told him.

“She can always hear me, Doctor. Always. Wherever she is, and she always knows that I am coming for her. Do you understand me? Always.”

Rory’s devotion to Amy always warmed Elise’s hearts. She hoped that one day she’d find someone who would search the universe to get back to her.

“Doctor, are you out there? Can you hear me? Doctor? Oh, God. Please, please, Doctor, just get me out of this,” Amy’s voice begged.

“He's coming. I'll bring him, I swear,” Rory said.

“Hello? Is somebody there?” a voice asked.

A man came into the room. It was the owner of the orphanage. “I think someone has been shot. I think we should help. We c…I can't re…I can't remember.”

They went down to his office and a Silence was lying on the floor, bleeding from a gunshot wound.

Elise gasped and hid behind River and Rory as the Doctor knelt in front of the creature.

“Okay. Who and what are you?” the Doctor asked.

“Silence, Doctor. We are the Silence. And Silence will fall,” it said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They took the spacesuit back to the warehouse to examine it.

“It's an exoskeleton. Basically, life support. There's about twenty different kinds of alien tech in here,” River said.

“Who was she? Why put her in here?” the Doctor asked.

“You put this on, you don't even need to eat. The suit processes sunlight directly. It's got built in weaponry, and a communications system that can hack into anything.”

“Including the telephone network?”

“Easily.”

“But why phone the President?”

“It defaults to the highest authority it can find. The little girl gets frightened, the most powerful man on Earth gets a phone call. The night terrors with a hotline to the White House.”

The Doctor stepped away and licked his blue envelope.

“You won't learn anything from that envelope, you know,” River told him.

“Purchased on earth. Perfectly ordinary stationery. TARDIS blue. Summoned by a stranger who won't even show his face. That's a first, for me. How about you?”

“Elise, you, me. Our lives are back to front. Your future's my past. Your firsts are my lasts.”

“That's not really what I asked.”

“Ask something else, then.”

“What are the Silence doing, raising a child?” His eyes flickered down to Elise who was staring at the spacesuit.

River’s did the same. “Keeping her safe, even giving her independence.”

“The only way to save Amy is to work out what the Silence are doing.”

“I know,” Rory said.

“And every single thing we learn about them brings us a step closer.”

“Yeah, Doctor, I get it. I know.”

“Of course, it's possible she's not just any little girl.”

“Well, I'd say she's human, going by the life support software,” River said.

“But?”

“She climbed out of this suit. Like she forced her way out. She must be incredibly strong.”

“Incredibly strong and running away. I like her.”

“We should be trying to find her.”

“Yes, I know. But how? Anyway, I have the strangest feeling she's going to find us.”

“Apollo 11, this is Houston. How do you read? Over.” A broadcast was playing on a small TV nearby.

“Why does it look like a NASA spacesuit?” Rory asked.

“Because that's what the Silence do. Think about it. They don't make anything themselves. They don't have to. They get other life forms to do it for them,” the Doctor said.

“So they're parasites, then?” River asked.

“Superparasites, standing in the shadows of human history since the very beginning. We know they can influence human behavior any way they want. If they've been doing that on a global scale for thousands of years…”

“Then what?” Rory asked.

“Then why did the human race suddenly decide to go to the Moon?”

“Ten, nine. Ignition sequence start. six, five, four…”

“Because the Silence needed a spacesuit.”

“One, zero. All engines running. Liftoff. We have a liftoff. Thirty two minutes past the hour, liftoff on Apollo 11.”

River was scanning the suit when it started twitching. Elise jumped back. “This suit, it seems to be repairing itself. How's it doing that? Doctor, a unit like this, would it ever be able to move without an occupant?” River asked.

“Why?”

“Well, the little girl said the spaceman was coming to eat her. Maybe that's exactly what happened.”

The Doctor looked over at Rory, who was listening to Amy talk through the recorder. He walked over to him and sat down.

Elise looked at them.

“What’s on your mind, little star?” River asked her.

“Falling in love.”

“Falling in love isn’t always wonderful, you know?”

“I think it sounds amazing.”

River reached down and petted Elise’s hair. “Don’t worry, little star. You’ll find him one day.”

Elise looked up at her. “When?”

River smiled. “One day.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Finally, the day came that they would rescue Amy. The Doctor, Elise, Rory, and River stepped out of the TARDIS.

“Oh, interesting. Very Aickman Road. I've seen one of these before,” the Doctor said.

The room they were in looked exactly like the spaceship above Craig’s flat.

Elise briefly wondered how he and Sophie were. Maybe one day she’d find out.

“Abandoned. I wonder how that happened? Oh, well I suppose I'm about to find out. Rory, River, keep one Silent in eye-shot at all times. Elise, stay by the TARDIS. Oh, hello. Sorry, you were in the middle of something. I just had to say, though, have you seen what's on the telly?”

The Doctor picked up a television and set it on the console. “Oh, hello, Amy. Are you all right? Want to watch some television? Ah. Now, stay where you are. Because look at me, I'm confident. You want to watch that, me, when I'm confident. Oh, and this is my friend River. Nice hair, clever, has her own gun, and unlike me, she really doesn't mind shooting people. I shouldn't like that. Kind of do, a bit.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” River said.

“I know you're team players and everything, but she'll definitely kill at least the first three of you.”

River backed up to where he back was touching the Doctor’s. “Well, the first seven, easily.”

“Seven? Really?”

“Oh, eight for you, honey.”

“Stop it.”

“Make me.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I will.”

“Is this really important flirting? Because I feel like I should be higher on the list right now.”

Rory ran over to Amy and was trying to unlock her bindings.

“Yes. Right. Sorry. As I was saying, my naughty friend here is going to kill the first three of you to attack, plus him behind, so maybe you want to draw lots or have a quiz. Or maybe you could just listen a minute. Because all I really want to do is accept your total surrender and then I'll let you go in peace. Yes, you've been interfering in human history for thousands of years. Yes, people have suffered and died, but what's the point in two hearts, if you can't be a bit forgiving, now and then?”

The Doctor was standing toe to toe with a Silence. “Ooo, the Silence. You guys take that seriously, don't you? Okay, you got me. I'm lying. I'm not really going to let you go that easily. Nice thought, but it's not Christmas. First, you tell me about the girl.” The Doctor turned on the TV. “Who is she? Why is she important? What's she for?”

“And we're getting a picture on the TV.”

“Guys, sorry, but you're way out of time. Now, come on. A bit of history for you. Aren't you proud? Because you helped. Now, do you know how many people are watching this live on the telly? Half a billion. And that's nothing, because the human race will spread out among the stars. You just watch them fly. Billions and billions of them, for billions and billions of years, and every single one of them at some point in their lives, will look back at this man, taking that very first step, and they will never, ever forget it.”

“Okay, engine stop. ATA on the descent. Modes control both auto. Descent engine command off.”

“Oh. But they’ll forget this bit.” The Doctor took out his phone. “Ready?”

“That's one small step for a man…”

A Silence appeared on the TV screen. “You should kill us all on sight.”

“You've given the order for your own execution, and the whole planet just heard you,” the Doctor told them.

“One giant leap for mankind.”

“And one whacking great kick up the backside for the Silence! You just raised an army against yourself and now, for a thousand generations, you're going to be ordering them to destroy you every day. How fast can you run? Because today's the day the human race throw you off their planet. They won't even know they're doing it. I think, quite possibly, the word you're looking for right now is oops. Run! Guys, I mean us. Run.”

The Silence started producing electricity from its body and River started shooting.

“I can't get her out!” Rory yelled.

“Run! Into the TARDIS, quickly!” River yelled.

The Doctor ran over to Amy and Rory and soniced her bindings.

Rory and Amy dodged electricity as they ran back to the TARDIS.

“Don't let them build to full power,” the Doctor said.

“I know! There's a reason why I'm shooting, honey!” River yelled, “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

“You've got a screwdriver. Go build a cabinet!”

“That's really rude!”

“Shut up and drive!”

The Doctor ran into the TARDIS.

River spun around in circles until all the Silence were dead. She flipped her gun around and put it in her holster. “My old fellow didn't see that, did he? He gets ever so cross,” River said.

“So, what kind of doctor are you?” Rory asked her.

“Archaeology”. She pulled out her gun and shot a Silence that was coming up behind her, all without looking. “Love a tomb.” She ruffled Elise’s hair as they went inside.

River ran up to the console and started throwing levers.

“You can let me fly it,” the Doctor told her.

“Yeah, or we could go where we're supposed to.”

Elise smiled.

River looked at her and picked her up, setting her on her hip. As River flew the TARDIS, she explained to Elise what every button and lever did.

“Don’t worry. In a few years, you can fly it yourself.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They stepped out into the Oval Office.

The Doctor walked up to Nixon, who shook his hand.

“So we're safe again,” Nixon said.

“Safe? No, of course you're not safe. There's about a billion other things out there just waiting to burn your whole world,” the Doctor told him, “But, if you want to pretend you're safe, just so you can sleep at night? Okay, you're safe. But you're not really.”

He turned to Canton and shook his hand. “Canton. Until the next one, eh?”

“Looking forward to it.”

The Doctor turned back to the President. “Canton just wants to get married. Hell of a reason to kick him out of the FBI.”

“I'm sure something can be arranged.”

“I'm counting on you.”

“Er, Doctor. Canton here tells me you're, you're from the future. It hardly seems possible, but I was wondering…”

“I should warn you I don't answer a lot of questions.”

“But I'm a president at the beginning of his time. Dare I ask? Will I be remembered?”

“Oh, Dicky. Tricky Dicky. They're never going to forget you. Say hi to David Frost for me.”

They all stepped back into the TARDIS and took off. Their next stop was Stormcage.

“You could come with us,” the Doctor told her.

“I escape often enough, thank you. And I have a promise to live up to. You'll understand soon enough.”

“Okay. Up to you. See you next time. Call me.” The Doctor started to walk back to the TARDIS.

“What, that's it? What's the matter with you?” River asked.

The Doctor walked back over to her. “Have I forgotten something?”

River smiled. “Oh, shut up.” She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

The Doctor stood there awkwardly. “Right. Okay. Interesting,” he said when she pulled away.

“What's wrong? You're acting like we've never done that before.”

“We haven't.”

“We haven't?”

“Oh, look at the time. Must be off. But it was very nice. It was, it was good. It was er, unexpected.” He walked back to the TARDIS and opened the door. “You know what they say. There's a first time for everything.” He went inside, leaving Elise with River.

“And a last time.”

Elise reached out and wrapped her hand around River’s.

River smiled and looked down at her. “Don’t worry about me, little star. I’ll be alright.” She knelt down in front of her. “Be good for your father, okay?”

Elise nodded.

“There’s something on your mind,” River said.

“Can’t you tell me about him?” River smiled.

“He has blue eyes. The most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen.”

Elise smiled. “Like mine!”

“Yes, like yours.”

“Elise!” Rory called, “Come on.”

Elise tapped River’s forehead lightly with her own and then ran back to the TARDIS. She yawned as she stepped onto the platform. Her father picked her up and kissed her head.

“Sleepy, eh?”

Elise nodded.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll be there in a bit to tuck you in.”

He set her down and Elise made her way to her bedroom. She walked over to her desk and pulled out her sketchbook. She searched through her colored pencils and found a blue one that matched the color of her eyes.  

[yamisnuffles]

Look at the Stars

Second in the Too Much of a Good Thing angel au and a follow up to In The Beginning. Please read that first, as this won’t make sense otherwise. Also feel free to read on Ao3.

- - - - -

~3500 BC -

Aziraphale remembered when the shapeless light from the dawn of creation was given form at last. The angels tasked with aiding in their creation had put the Almighty’s inspiration to good use. They’d been the original artists, painting with broad strokes in colors only God Herself had known before. No longer was there simply light and dark but stars, moons, nebulae, and more.  They were beautiful, brilliant, endless in their variety. The best comparison Aziraphale could make was to jewels but they had predated those and outshone even the finest. They’d put what came before to shame and it was good. Aziraphale had thought so then and even more so when he viewed it as intended, from the cradle of humanity.

While the beauty of the stars themselves had not dimmed, Aziraphale’s feelings about them had. His awe of them was spoiled by a growing sense of melancholy because every single night, without fail, he  traded Crawly’s company for theirs. He’d hoped viewing them together might be some consolation to poor Crawly when the seraph was banished from Eden along with the humans but the angel turned serpent had promptly gone to sleep.

That first night, Aziraphale had assumed Crawly was exhausted. It had been quite the day. There had been very few days to speak of, but that one had been monumental for the humans and the seraph alike. Aziraphale couldn’t even begin to imagine what Crawly had felt but fatigue seemed a fair response. Not that Aziraphale would know, having never felt fatigued, but he still had his true form. Crawly was trapped as a serpent. Perhaps, Aziraphale had reasoned, his new corporation simply needed more rest.

Then it had happened again. And again. And again. Just before the first star appeared in the dimming sky Crawly would, without fail, tuck his head away under his long coils and sleep until the final star faded with the return of the sun. It had continued on that way for the last one hundred and eighty two thousand, five hundred nights. Not that Aziraphale had grown concerned enough to keep exact track of the number.

“Even if you can no longer go to them the way you once could, I think you’d still enjoy the sight,” Aziraphale said softly but without much conviction. He felt an uncomfortable pang when he looked up at them sometimes. They didn’t change the way that everything else had and continued to do. He could reach them in an instant if he really wanted, but he liked that they felt so far away, out of reach of the corruption that had fallen seemingly everywhere else. Even Heaven had seen war and no one had come out of it unchanged.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what exactly compelled him, but he manifested a straight, pointed stick into his hand. If forced, he could defend himself well even with such a simple thing. However, he wasn’t like the stars. He had changed and no longer wished to play the warrior. He’d much rather build up than tear down. With unsure, stuttering movements, he attempted to mirror the sky with patterns traced in the sand. He didn’t attempt to make an exact copy. Instead he endeavored to capture the feeling he got from them with swirling strokes and impulsive jabs. Once finished, he examined his work with a considering tilt of his head. When the light hit just so, the sand glimmered a bit like the cosmos above, however he was clearly no artist. The stick dropped from unhappy fingers. It was a poor imitation and was soon blown away with a resigned huff.

He sighed and looked at the serpent dozing softly at his side. “The ones you made are still beautiful. If you cared to look at them again and see. So are- well, I think you still are, as well.”

Aziraphale would never be so bold if he thought Crawly could hear him but the stars were currently at their brightest and so there would be no waking the sleeping snake. That freed Aziraphale to do something he also wouldn’t dare during the day. He reached out a steady hand and stroked his fingers along smooth scales. That form was meant to be a curse for leading humanity to sin, but Crawly wore it so well. There wasn’t, in Aziraphale’s opinion, a being on the face of the planet that could compare to the serpent of Eden.

In the light of day, Crawly appeared to be creamy white with a golden underbelly. The stars revealed something more. Light seemed to hit each scale differently. White was divided into gentler hues so that his whole body shimmered with it. They seemed to change right before Aziraphale’s eyes as they passed under the shadow of his hand. Such a remarkable thing, stardust captured in a graceful, sinuous form.

“The heavens were taken from you. Your name. Your form. I don’t think you need to punish yourself more, my dear, by taking the stars from yourself as well.”

No response, of course. Aziraphale rested his arms on his knees and propped his chin on top of them. Most nights he would go on walking as Crawly slept on his shoulders, but he’d found that harder and harder to do as the years stretched on. Unless he was in one of the human settlements or the moon was full, it was terribly dark. The dark had started to feel terribly lonely and the loneliness made it hard to continue on. So, instead, he let Crawley settle on whatever warm rock seemed best and kept himself company with his thoughts. Unfortunately for him, thinking while in Crawly’s presence often only led to one place.

Crawly had been made to all but Fall, with his angelic name stricken from memory and his true form taken from him until he might redeem himself. Whatever that might mean. The other angels certainly seemed to view him as little better than the Fallen. Over five centuries on and Aziraphale could still perfectly recall Gabriel’s expression of distaste as he commanded that the serpent be expelled from Eden. There had been no explicit command that Aziraphale follow suit when Crawly had been ejected from the garden, but he’d decided accompanying Crawly was the least he could do. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel that what had happened was his fault. He had been on apple tree duty. He was also the reason the seraph knew about the tree in the first place.

The stars above shimmered oddly and Aziraphale realized tears were clouding his eyes. He dashed them away. “I’m a terrible angel. I was supposed to guard, to protect, and look what happened. If it wasn’t for me, you would still be you and the humans would probably still be in Eden.”

He picked up the stick again. It seemed a poor tool for the task he imagined. He pressed it into the sand, unsure. He couldn’t possibly. If he couldn’t capture stars, how was he supposed to capture the likeness of their maker? But what could it hurt to try. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Unlike Crawly’s name, the seraph’s former image had not been banished from memory. Aziraphale supposed it was some extended part of Crawly’s punishment- how else could he know what he’d lost if he couldn’t remember what he’d been? Or perhaps that wasn’t it at all. Perhaps only Aziraphale remembered because the sight had been burned into the all too human eyes of his corporation.

It was a cherished memory, drawn upon frequently but furtively, a secret Aziraphale kept in his heart. The eyes were easiest to remember as they’d been gold even then as they were now. There had been six wings, starlight bright and stunning. Hair like molten copper, that cascaded all the way to the ground in waves of unruly curls. Long, delicate fingers made for sculpting and not for folding around the hilt of a sword. A smile so bright, Aziraphale had wondered immediately upon seeing it what it would look like under the seraph’s creation, or if they could even see the night sky for its brilliance.

Aziraphale’s tongue poked through his lips and he concentrated on the stuttering movements of the stick. It would be an impermanent thing, all the better for how little it captured its subject, but he was determined to see it done. No matter how briefly or how poorly, he’d make sure the angel he’d met on the wall all those years ago would be seen again. The harshly beautiful lines of nose, cheekbones, and chin were softened by that smile. By the time it was finished, the first rosy fingers of dawn had stretched up from the horizon. Aziraphale smiled sadly back at the image he’d created before he banished it with a wave of his hand. Not long after, as the final star vanished from the sky, Crawly stirred.

“Ready for the day?” Aziraphale prompted, forcing a cheer into his voice that he didn’t feel at the moment. “I know it can take you a bit to regain your senses in the morning but I thought we might have an early start. There’s a human village off to the west that I thought we might visit. Spread a few blessings, good cheer, and all that.”

Aziraphale extended his arm toward Crawly, offering him an easy route up to his shoulders. Crawly didn’t take the offer. Instead the serpent curled further in on himself. “Sssss’not really my thing.” Aziraphale found the extra sibilance charming but he knew Crawly was self conscious about it. Sure enough, he silenced himself a moment to get a better handle on it. “Human cheer, that is,” he continued. “Usually it’s lots of screaming and pointing. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

“That may be so but they shouldn’t blame you either,” Aziraphale countered. “You know Eve never did.”

“Yeah, well, she’d be the only one.”

“Come now, they’ll learn to think better of you if you give them time.”

“You know how it is every time, Aziraphale.” Crawly met him with an unnerving gaze. Aziraphale knew the serpent couldn’t do anything other than stare, but somehow Crawly had mastered different levels of it over the centuries. This gaze meant he all but dared Aziraphale to argue. The only movement he made was the darting flicker of his forked tongue. “Nah, I think I’ll go east,” he said, when he went unchallenged. “Nice oasis there I was thinking I’d check out. Better way to spend the day, anyhow.”

Aziraphale wasn’t ready to back down completely. “There’s no reason I can’t at least carry you until we part ways.”

“Plenty reason. We’re going in opposite directions, for one.” Crawly unspooled his long form in the serpentine equivalent of a stretch. “Still need some time in the sun, anyway. You go on ahead.”

Aziraphale waited a breath to see if Crawly would miraculously change his mind. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

“I’ll meet you in the evening?”

Crawly nodded and Aziraphale was forced to bite back a grin. Gestures he wouldn’t have given a second thought from anyone else were, dare he think it, cute when performed by the serpent. He didn’t think Crawly would appreciate the sentiment, though, so he was careful to keep it to himself. He pushed reluctantly to his feet. He gave Crawly a soft parting smile and then started off toward where he’d remembered the settlement to be. 

Aziraphale had to admit, if only to himself, that traveling on his own took a certain weight off his shoulders. This was true of course in the most literal sense given that Aziraphale often carried the serpent everywhere. Not that Crawly ever asked him to do such but he’d never minded. He was made of far sterner stuff than he might have appeared and one serpent, no matter the size, was little bother.

But that wasn’t the burden that had been lifted from him. No, Crawly was… trouble. He didn’t intend to be, surely, but he was nonetheless. He couldn’t help but ask questions. Sometimes they were harmless enough things, the sort of idle curiosity that seemed to pass ceaselessly through the serpent’s mind. Upon seeing goats put to the slaughter, Crawly had asked a shepherd how he got more goats. It had taken some work for Aziraphale to keep from giggling as the seraph listened in horror to the details of reproduction.

Other questions were, to put it mildly, a headache. Less mildly, dangerous. Very dangerous. The sort of thing that had gotten Crawly caught in his current predicament in the first place. When he asked, for example, why the rest of humanity had to pay for a sin they didn’t commit. What was the point of free will, he’d pondered, if they were born guilty? That had caused Aziraphale no end of trouble, as he hadn’t been able to do anything at all to soothe the people’s troubled minds. No amount of talk about ineffability and a greater plan had been enough to quell the seeds of doubt planted in some of the humans. Aziraphale fretted a bit that proximity alone would be enough to see him dragged into whatever punishment could come down. For the most part, though, he worried for Crawly. The seraph would only dig himself into deeper trouble if he carried on like that. Worse, he might finally properly Fall.

Without such worries, Aziraphale’s day passed quickly and enjoyably. Small blessings were placed on crops, minor miracles used to ease away the limp in a shepherd’s leg, and many lively discussions were had with young and old alike. At the end of it all, he was invited to share a meal, an invitation he was more than happy to accept. The fruits in the garden had been scrumptious, no doubt, but humans in all their ingenuity had figured out how to make something new and marvellous out of what they’d been given. The hearty stew they shared with him braced him more with its warmth and love than any nutritional value, of which the angel naturally had no need.

When all was said and done, he felt better prepared to face the night ahead. He was tempted to take the offer of a place with the humans for the night. It wasn’t as though Crawly would miss him as he slept. Aziraphale had said they would meet up again, though, so meet up they would. He gave his farewells to the humans and passed on a few more blessings as he went. He might not be with them but they would have his protection until the sun rose again, at least.

His steady pace eastward was interrupted by a shriek that pierced the peaceful evening air. In his alarm, Aziraphale forgot wings that might have carried him forward much faster and instead broke into a panicked run. He remembered Crawly’s complaint that the humans often screamed when they saw him. Aziraphale hoped that was all there was to it. Even so, what if the unfortunate creature panicked and attempted to attack Crawly? The stars had already started to peek through the gloom so Crawly would be caught unaware. Aziraphale’s legs pushed him onward, a minor miracle boosting his speed.

As the oasis came into view, Aziraphale saw Crawly wrapped around a small, spindly human. A child, from the looks of her, held in place by cords of muscle to still her angry thrashing. Aziraphale couldn’t make sense of the scene, of why the child was angry or why Crawly had her restrained. He didn’t have a chance to ponder what a child was even doing out so far on her own because the next thing he knew, Crawly struck. The serpent’s fangs sank deep into the girl’s neck

“Crawly!” Aziraphale called. There had to be some mistake, some reason why Crawly would do this. 

Crawly’s iron tight grip on the girl loosened immediately in his surprise. The second it did, the girl pulled an arm free and plunged a knife into his tail. Crawly hissed and thrashed but the knife had pinned him to the ground.

Too late Aziraphale felt it, the distinct current of malice. This close, he couldn’t miss the scent of ash, brimstone, and something else unpleasant and distinctly not of this world. The realization that he was looking not at a young human but a demon came just in time for him to dodge out of the way as she lunged at him. Crawly caught her by the wrist with his fangs. Her eyes were a muddy red with wide blown, horizontal pupils and their fury was divided between the two angels before her. Under her thin, sallow skin, black veins were slowly dyed gold.

The demon fell to her knees and folded in on herself in pain. She lifted her clotted blood eyes to glare. Black ichor dripped from her nostrils, her eyes, and her ears. “Like watching, do you, angel?” she said to Aziraphale. She offered him a bitter smile. 

“No, I-”

He looked away, the sight of a gummy mouth oozing black still in his mind. Demon or not, it was horrific. He could smell her burning from the inside. He had half a mind to speed her on her way when at last she got a toe into the earth and slipped back down to hell.

Crawly wiped the sides of his mouth on the earth in an attempt to rid himself of the demon blood that lingered there. “Bleugh,” he said. “Really makes me wish I could spit to get the taste out.”

Aziraphale blinked and shook himself from the stupor that lingered over him. He walked over to Crawly who was in the midst of a futile attempt to pull out the knife with his mouth. Aziraphale held out a hand in offer. Once he’d removed it, he tried to heal Crawly’s wound but it refused to close. Likely the blade had demonic origins and would need more than a normal miracle to mend.

“I have an idea. Stay there, my dear.”

“Not exactly going anywhere like this.”

The pain was unmistakable in his voice, though he clearly tried to keep it light. Aziraphale’s stomach flipped guiltily at the sound. It was his fault Crawly had been injured. He shouldn’t have shouted. He should have known Crawly had cause. He should have…

Aziraphale swallowed over the myriad of unpleasant sensations his corporation offered up in response. He hurried over to the small pool at the center of the oasis to test his theory. He scooped up a palmful of water, blessed it, and walked it carefully back to Crawly. He knelt next to the injured serpent and poured the water over the open wound. A stream of black smoke was released as the holy water cleansed the seraph’s blood. Crawly hissed in pain. Aziraphale immediately followed the cleansing water with a sweep of his hand. He felt the scales under the pads of his fingers as flesh was carefully knit back together, then another sweep just to assure himself that all was well. He released a tense breath and fell back onto his heels.

“All better, I’d say. How does it feel?”

Crawly wriggled his tail experimentally. “Seemssss better. Thankssss.”

He ducked his head in embarrassment, whether over the way he hissed or because he felt a burden, Aziraphale didn’t know. Aziraphale offered him a warm smile that he hoped covered the continued, confused tumble of emotions.

“It was my pleasure to help, you know.” He didn’t like being thanked, not when it was the least an angel could do for another and not when he felt he was only righting a situation he’d caused in the first place. He cast about for a change in subject and found an easy one with the unsettled earth on the ground between them. “What did you do to that demon? It seemed… unpleasant.”

Crawly wiped the ground smooth with his tail. “Venom is holy. Or, holyish. Holy enough. Enough that I’ve never had one try again after I did that to them.”

Aziraphale’s brows raised. “This has happened before?”

“Eeeh, not this exactly but-” Aziraphale got the distinct impression from the way that he squirmed that if Crawly had shoulders to shrug, he would have done so. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

A deep frown brought the corners of Aziraphale’s mouth down. “It certainly seems like something to worry about if you have demons after you. Did you know it was going to happen? Is that why you decided to go off on your own today? When else have they come for you? Why didn’t I know? Is that why you leave every time?”

Crawly didn’t answer immediately. He instead climbed up onto a boulder that would put him closer to eye level with Aziraphale. “And I thought questions were my thing,” he replied, a mixture of amusement and bitterness. “Maybe I just wanted space. I’m allowed that, right? Didn’t think I was your prisoner.”

“Of course you aren’t. I’m worried, is all. I hate to think of demons coming after you whenever they think you’re vulnerable”

“Yeah, well, ‘m fine. I can take care of myself.” Crawly turned in a half circle so that he was no longer facing Aziraphale. “It’s getting late. I’m gonna sleep. Feel free to come or go.”

At that, he tucked his head under one of his long coils. There was no saying if he really planned to sleep or was simply ignoring Aziraphale. Either way, Aziraphale knew from experience how long such bouts of pique could carry on. The conversation was effectively over and he was expected to simply leave the matter be.

Aziraphale’s shoulders sagged, the weight of another night alone nearly unbearable. “Is my company so undesirable?”

Crawly remained a motionless lump of scales. Eventually he must have realized Aziraphale wasn’t just going to let it drop. He picked up his head and turned it just enough to look askance at Aziraphale. “Is mine so desirable?” he countered.

“Of course.”

“Oh, don’t you ‘of course’ me.”

“Why not? What is so blatantly awful about you that should make my liking you so unimaginable?”

“Quesssstions, Aziraphale. Careful or you’ll end up just like me.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Quit joking around and answer me, if you’d please.”

Crawly slithered back around. “Deadly serious about that one.” He raised his head slowly, looking every bit the predator. “I’m the serpent of Eden. Don’t think I miss the way humans look at me or the way you do, for that matter. When they shy away. When I ask too many questions. You’re worried you could end up just like me. Tell me, how did they feel about you giving away that sword of yours?”

Aziraphale squirmed. “It hasn’t come up again, actually. And I don’t look any way at you. I only feel poorly for the way they all treat you.”

“Oh come off it, Aziraphale.”

“I’m being quite serious, I assure you. I only think well of you.”

“Is that why you insist on carrying me around everywhere?” Crawly moved closer and his voice dropped to a bitter hiss. “I’m perfectly content on the ground but you think it’s undignified. Don’t try to say it’s not.”

“I would ask you not to speak to how I feel, thank you.” Aziraphale lifted his chin to force more confidence than he felt at the moment. “If I… If I come across as embarrassed, it’s for you and not by you. You shouldn’t be made to crawl about on your belly.”

“Part of the whole idea of trapping me in this form. Meant to be embarrassssssing.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t mean I have to agree. You are a seraph.”

“Am I?” 

Aziraphale crossed his arms. “Now who’s not being serious.”

“What’s my name?” Crawly hurried on before Aziraphale had a chance to answer. “Not the one on the tip of your tongue right now. My God given name.”

They both knew it was a trick question. He didn’t know. No one did anymore, which was likely the point Crawly was trying to make. When no reply came, he obviously thought he’d made his point and hid his head once more from the stars blossoming above.

Well, tonight Aziraphale wasn’t going to take it. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am not,” came the muffled reply from under a tangled bundle of snake. 

“You are. You’re- you’re sulking.”

Crawly moved just enough that the tip of his snout was visible. “S’what if I am? I think I have a lot that I have a right to sulk about. Anyway, goodnight.”

Aziraphale crossed his arms and kept stubbornly in place. Just because he hadn’t had any luck on this front in the past five centuries, it didn’t mean he couldn’t now. He only needed to be bolder. To try harder.

“Please, my dear, just stay awake tonight.” Silence and not so much as a flicker of movement. “I apologize if I haven’t done enough to stand up for you with the humans, if I ever doubted you or did anything to make you feel lesser. I’ll admit, I might have begun my travels with you for… charitable reasons, but that’s not why I continued. As I said before, you’re not my prisoner but neither am I yours. We aren’t chained together. I continue on because I enjoy your company. Quite a bit, actually.”

A pair of golden eyes slowly emerged. Crawly’s head was still shadowed by the bulk of his body but it was still remarkable given the hundreds of years spent to the contrary. “You don’t,” he said.

“I do,” Aziraphale responded firmly.

“You can’t. You-” Crawly lost his line of thought in an unintelligible garble of sounds. When he picked up the thread again, he said, “Even the demons don’t like me and I’ve been doing their job for free. Although, come to think of it, probably why they don’t like me. Makes them look bad, an angel accidentally doing their job for them and better than any of them have managed.”

“Crawly-”

“No, I’m not- You can’t-” Crawly sputtered. “You’re a good angel, Aziraphale. I’m just… trouble.”

“You might be that,” Aziraphale said in what he hoped was a teasing tone, “but you’re so much more. You helped create all that.”

Aziraphale knew as soon as he gestured up at the heavens, that it was a step too far. Crawly hid away his eyes as if only remembering the time. “Been a while since I did that. Don’t think I could anymore even if I tried.”

Aziraphale closed the gap between them. He reached out a trembling hand and forced himself to place palm to scales. “It’s also been a while since you promised to look at them with me, but you could still do that. If you want. I would enjoy it immensely.”

“Can’t take you up to see them anymore,” Crawly mumbled.

Aziraphale glanced about and was struck with sudden inspiration. “Perhaps not, but…”

He spread his arms wide to scoop up the massive serpent. It wasn’t easy with the way Crawly struggled nor with the slip of scales, but Aziraphale’s warrior strength won out and he managed to pick the snake up.

“Put me down!”

And Aziraphale did. He wasn’t about to force Crawly into anything. However, like any good warrior, he had more than one weapon at his disposal. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wish to do but I wish you’d go with me on this. I won’t ask again but please.”

Crawly groaned and even thrashed about a bit. “Fine. Fine. I can’t believe you’d break out that look for something like this. That’s playing dirty. Maybe you’re not such a good angel after all.”

“What look?”

“Oh-ho, you don’t even know you do it. That’s even worse somehow.” Crawly had kept his eyes locked on Aziraphale but flicked them toward the sky and back again. “Yeah, fine. Anything you want to do.”

Aziraphale’s face broke into a smile. “Excellent. Follow me.”

He didn’t look back to see if Crawly was following. He could tell from the prickle of grudging affection in the air that the serpent was there. Crawly continued following even as Aziraphale walked out onto the water.

“What’re we… oh.”

Aziraphale’s smile widened. “Yes,  I think that covers it. The effect is everything I’d hoped.”

By now the stars had come out in force. The weather was perfect for viewing them. Some would say miraculously so. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and not so much as one puff of wind to stir the water. The pool was utterly still and so turned into a mirror. Aziraphale was proud to have found a way for Crawly to be in the middle of the stars once more without ever having to leave the Earth. As for the serpent, he was transfixed. Crawly’s mouth fell open slightly as he looked up at the sky, down at the pool, and back again.

“I… it’s…” Crawly’s voice trembled. He tried in fits to find words. When he failed, he slithered quickly up Aziraphale and buried his face in the crook of the principality’s neck. “Thank you, angel,” he murmured.

“Anytime, my dear.” Feeling emboldened by his success, Aziraphale stroked the top of Crawly’s head. He stopped when something struck him. “Wait, why did you call me ‘angel’? You’re not back on that whole ‘not really an angel’ yourself nonsense, are you? Because you know how I feel about that.”

“M’not. You’re just… you.” This close, Aziraphale could feel the frantic beat of a heart against his skin and a body that shivered nervously with emotion. “You’re the best angel. The only one who really deserves the title.”

“Well, that’s alright then, I suppose. As long as you know how fond I am of you.”

Crawly was at a loss for words. Or, at least, actual words. For all the times language had failed him tonight, Aziraphale might have thought the serpent was losing the ability to speak. But eventually he managed, “Can we just look at the stars like you planned?”

“I’d enjoy that very much.”

Crawly finished climbing up onto Aziraphale’s shoulders and the weight no longer felt like a penance but a blessing as they were lost together in the light all around them.

[whirlybirbs]

i’m begging u .. can u write a rlly fluffy blurb about bee’s human getting injured and worried!bee is all over her

UNLAWFUL ARREST ;

summary: charlie, memo and you accidentally intercept a distress call.enter barricade & frenzy. it’s fight night at the junkyard. frenzy has rabies.pairing: bumblebee x human!readerrating: t for canon-typical-violence & some swearing!a/n: this was very fun to write bc i love ‘cade and i love ‘bee and i love one bad-ass reader with one (1) good wrench. set in the 2018 bumblebee movieverse!

Shit.

Charlie had woken you up out of a dead sleep, rattling your window frame with rocks much larger than pebbles to indicate the urgency -- sure enough, her and Memo were saddled up on her bike. 

Leaning out the window, you hush them both.

“What?” you whisper-yell, “Shh, stop yelling, you idiots --”

“The junkyard!” Charlie finally gets out, eyes wild, “Something’s going on. Something bad. We need to help them.”

Sector 7? The Decepticons? 

The blood drains from your face. You don’t even respond, just begin to tear your room apart in a desperate attempt to throw on a sweater and jeans and tuck the long-distance Sonic Ranger radio into your back pocket  -- your Adidas beat down the stairs as you burst through the door, meeting Charlie and Memo half-way down the cul-de-sac. You’re running, hair wild and sleep forgotten. 

“How’d you know?” you ask, lungs burning as the three of you beat the tarmac in the direction of Old Maccadam’s Junkyard. Charlie’s electric bike has a lot on you, peddling like a bat out of hell, “Is ‘Bee okay?”

“We got a call on the radio -- sounded like a distress signal -- a lot of yelling --”

You move, tugging the walkie talkie from your jeans and clicking on the signal. There’s a lot of static, and then you press the receiver.

“’Musketeers to base, I repeat, Musketeers to base.”

Nothing. Just endless static.

“What the hell?”

“I know,” Charlie says, “Sideswipe always has the frequency on. No one’s responding.”

Suddenly, headlights flood over the three of you. 

“Charlie --”

“Shit.”

You turn, still peddling, spotting the paint-job of s Dodge Diplomat behind you. 

“Is that Prowl?” you ask, confusion flooding your voice as your eyes bounce to Charlie next to you. She blinks, turning to look. 

Memo, upon hearing the name of the Autobot Second-in-Command, brightens visibly and begins waving his arms wildly. “Prowl! Hey! It’s -- it’s us! Your friends! You know --”

Suddenly, the police cruiser surges forward and it’s lights paint the night sky red and purple.

The Decepticon insignia on the hood sneers in your face. 

“Not Prowl!” Memo screeches, “So not Prowl! Bad guy! That’s a bad guy!”

“Shit!”

You both turn fast, dipping off the road and into the rocky path towards the run-down scrap-yard turned Autobot base in attempt to shake the sudden predator who’s tailing you too close for comfort.

The sand and rocks and cacti don’t do much to dissuade Barricade, though. He’s trudged through worse to track down Autobot filth. In this center console, Frenzy vibrates -- his senseless chatter seems to grow as nimble metallic servos tune his own radio to Judas Priest.

“BREAKING THE LAW, BREAKING LAW!”

Barricade doesn’t mind this Earth music too much.

The three of you hit the Junkyard’s wall fast, breaking in opposite directions along the fence. You break hard, kicking up sand and peddling as fast as you can along the western side of the scrapyard.

“‘Bee! Optimus!” you screech, “For fuck’s sake, Sunny! Anyone!”

The growl of the engine behind you startles a scream from your throat.

You cut the handlebars fast, turning into the back-end of the scrap yard and hauling your bike over the fence as fast as you can. Slipping through the gaps in the chain-link, where it’s curled and rusted, you take off on foot and are fast to duck into the shadows of the scrapyard’s rusted and gutted cars. 

At first, Barricade rolls by.

You look around wildly, wondering where the hell they all were. 

They were twenty-foot tall alien robots. They weren’t hard to misplace. 

Suddenly, the large flood lights fixed high above the Junkyard crank on -- and Barricade spies you duck fast beneath a bottomed-out Buick. From your spot, you see Charlie and Memo climbing the cat-walk, desperate to get a sight on the Autobots normally here. 

The yard is silent. 

For a second.

And then, Barricade transforms.

You reach for the radio, shaky hands tuning the dial. You whisper desperately.

“Musketeers to Car Show, we’ve got a problem here! So, I dunno, return to base!”

He seethes, peeling away the fence and taking his time to stroll through the Junkyard. “So this is what they call home now.”

Charlie and Memo freeze, gripping one another tightly. 

Barricade seems to ignore the reaction, seems to ignore them both completely. He isn’t interested in fleshlings -- he’s interested in Optimus. And that fragging scout of his. 

“Where are they?” Barricade asks casually, “Where are the Autobots?”

Red optics sweep around, no doubt trying to get a read on the absent energon signals. Even still, the three of you are silent. 

A ped crushes the car next to you like a tin-can and you squeak. 

“Frenzy,” Barricade rumbles, “Handle the humans. Pick their bones.”

“Pick our bones --?!”

“Shit!”

The compartment in his chest bursts open, revealing the three-foot tall death mini-con hankering from a snack. 

You scream then, launching yourself over the Buick and throwing the walkie talkie as hard as you can. It nails Frenzy straight between the optics, giving you enough time to book it to the main storage space -- but, Frenzy is hot on your heels with sharp denta snapping at your knees. You trip, landing hard on the concrete as Frenzy’s servos dig into your ankles. You scream, landing a hard kick that sends the mini-bots servos offline for a second. 

You bound up the catwalk, just in time to see Bumblebee make his entrance. 

Sometimes you forget he’s a soldier -- he’s strong and fast and lands lightning punches that nearly cripple the Decepticon in a seconds time. His battle-mask is up and ready, blue optics narrowed in an angry determination. 

With Barricade on the ground, those blue optics connect with your gaze. He seems to go soft for a moment, waving slowly. You laugh -- dirt covered face cracking into a grin. 

You’re enthralled, completely and totally, but the current Decepticon threat ruins the moment. Barricade pulls the scout down by his door-wings just as Frenzy chatters out a sharp cackle and continues his hungry pursuit of you.

“Get off of me, you gear shift!” you holler, hands winding into the spaces in his plating as you toss the bot to the catwalk stairs. The whole thing rattles and Charlie, up above, shouts your name.

“Catch!”

A 12″ wrench.

Or, in this case, a blunt-force weapon. 

You swing down hard and fast, catching the minibot as it rolls away and shrieks. 

Suddenly, the junkyard is flooded with more Autobots -- Prowl is first through the gates, landing a hard hit on Barricade as Bee staggers back from a blow to the processor. Optimus is next, full of grace and power as he draws his gun and nails Barricade’s shoulder amidst the scuffle. 

Frenzy, now corned by the three of you, has set it’s sights back on your ankles -- he clings, scaling the skin there and landing a harsh bite on your thigh. 

“Son of a bitch!” 

“FRENZY! RETREAT!”

You unceremoniously throw the minicon off you, hammering home with the 12″ wrench. It’s barbaric and the move even has Ironhide wincing as the small Decepticon dashes from the premise and follows the taillights of the Dodge Diplomat into the night. 

You huff, hands dropping to your knees.

“Jesus.”

Charlie, behind you, has a hand wound in Memo’s shirt. They both look shaken, albeit safe. Silence settles in the junkyard. Along the comms, Ooptimus is barking out orders. You can tell by the way his optics move.

‘Bee is by your side in a second’s time, rolling onto his knees and eyeing you with a wide and worried look. He coos, offering a gentle prod. Blood is running down your leg, ruining your jeans and splattering on your Adidas. 

“Bad dog -- zzrt -- he’ll bite ya! Woof!”

And then you laugh.

And then Charlie does. And Memo, too. 

And Prowl looks at you three like you’ve shorted out. 

“I’m gunna need,” you say between breaths, “A tetanus shot. He bit me. That fuckin’ thing bit me. It bit me.”

‘Bee whirs again, sounding sick with worry.

Ratchet steps in then, gesturing the rest of the crew to get to work at cleaning up the mess the scuffle made. He kneels, servos gentle as he narrows his optics and blinks at the wound.

“Let me clean his up,” he says slowly, “You three are lucky we came when we did.”

“We tried calling,” you mutter, “But no one was home.”

“We were trying to locate Barricade. He’d broadcast-ed a distress signal when he landed. Though, it seems our Musketeers found him before we did.”

Ratchet transforms, opening the back doors of his alt. mode. You crawl in, accepting the ride to the main hangar. ‘Bee follows close behind, the rush in his systems starting to quiet and cool. Right now, you’re the main focus of his worries -- he’ll rip Frenzy to shreds later. 

“Pants off.”

Ratchet says it so curtly, Charlie and Memo take it as their cue to leave -- so they make their way to Optimus leaving you and ‘Bee and Ratchet in the main hangar. You grumble softly at the command, rolling your eyes slightly and tugging at your belt buckle.

“Could at least take me to dinner first.”

‘Bee chirps angrily from his spot behind Ratchet. 

“Bumblebee,” he sighs, “I need to clean the wounds. I have no intent on seducing your mate.”

Your eyes widen. You blink. ‘Bee has worked himself into a flurry at that, waving wildly and buzzing more like a wasp than anything.

“What did you just call me?!”

“Will you sit?”

You do as your told, wiggling your pants off and hissing softly at the sting. There’s a lot of blood -- the gashes are deep, too. Just seeing them makes your face run cold. Settling on the edge of the bench, Ratchet deploys his holoavatar.

Older, with white hair and a kind face. His hands are gentle. ‘Bee watches the whole way. 

You try to distract yourself. 

“See ‘Bee? Nothing more than a scratch. I’m fine.”

“These are deep wounds,” Ratchet counters. You whack the shoulder of his holoform. It fizzles out at the rough contact. He yelps. “I am just being honest!”

“Yeah, well,” you chirp, “Stop being a good doctor and tell me I’ll be fine.”

“You will be fine,” he mutters, “If I can ensure you don’t get any Cybertronian-prone bacterial infections.”

‘Bee nearly wallops Ratchet himself.

“Great,” you breath, “Nice. Here I am, no pants on in the middle of the base, bleeding, and that little Decepti-freak might have given me robo-rabies.”

‘Bee drives you home that night. By the time you make it in, the sun is starting to creep up along the horizon. You crawl out of the cab, moving to tug the garage door up. You’d borrowed a pair of shorts from Charlie -- she’d had some in the basket of her bike -- and Ratchet had done a nice job at patching you up.

The bandages are tight.

‘Bee rolls into the garage. You sigh, patting his hood. He transforms slowly.

“Long night, huh, buddy?”

An affirmative coo.

“You were a bad-ass out there, though. You handed Barricade his aft.”

“Not -- zzRt -- as cool as you!” ‘Bee’s gaze is heavy though. He whines a bit, nudging his face into your hands and nearly purring at the contact, “Glad -- srt -- you’re safe with me.”

You hum, enjoying the attention. A delicate servo has secured itself to your back, nudging you close to his chest. You can feel his spark vibrate under the plating there. Two hands splay across the glossy paint there. Bumblebee coos -- it’s happy and content, not full of worry like it had been earlier. 

For a while, you two settle in like that. You crawl into his lap, curled up around a big servo. His optics dim, going from a vibrant blue to a soft, pale glow. 

But, after a moment, you break the silence.

“‘Bee?”

His antennae twitch.

“Why did Ratchet call me your ‘mate’?”

Shit.

[cyangarden]

Technicalities

Lance learns something about his sniper rifle with the help of someone

~2.1k words

It was another day in the Castle, the members of the team doing their own things. Hunk was doing inspections of the Lions, Coran doing maintenance on the Castle, Shiro and Allura were talking to other coalition members for the next move. Lance in the shooting range, further honing his skill as the sharpshooter of the team. Pidge in the lab, scanning through various radio messages picked up by the Castle to see if there was anything interesting.

When Pidge nonchalantly called Lance the Sharpshooter one time during a mission, something inside Lance sensed something, something different. He somehow felt more complete, making him more confident being a Paladin. Yeah, Shiro acknowledge him before when they freed Slav from the Warden’s hands during their escape from Beta Traz, but when Pidge said it, it had a different meaning to it. It made Lance push further when it comes in training, even making his own routine rather than use one of the presets stored in the computer. Whatever it was, Lance was glad it was happening to him.

Pidge took a break, she left computer running the sorting algorithm automatically but set it to notify her if something of attention came up. When Lance and Pidge got the game console from the Space Mall, she noticed that by not spending so much time in the lab, she had more energy throughout the day instead of crashing down suddenly when night came. After that, she had scheduled breaks. Pidge usually went to Lance’s room to play the videogame, sometimes Lance would be there to play with her but sometimes, he’s not there so she plays on her own. Pidge typed the password to his room, but to only see it empty. She wanted to play with Lance, maybe he was somewhere. He went to the lounge then to kitchen, but he still wasn’t around.

Pidge thought about the shooting range, she did notice Lance spending more time going there after she called him Sharpshooter. Lance’s skill became more apparent after she called him the name one time. It amazed her and made her admire his skill, but she didn’t want to admit it out loud that he ended up being right about his name for him. Probably to avoid the teasing from Lance, she thought his head might get to big and he might not let it go. Though she thought she was a bit harsh on him when she doubted the use of the name. She wished she could do something to make it up to him. Lance was happy with his skill, but she felt she still needed to do something about that incident — or that was what she keeps referring to.

Lance moved cover to cover, engaging the targets along the way. His goal for training? Practicing fast transitions between targets to shoot them down as fast as possible. His reaction was something he wanted to work on after Sven almost tackled him down back in the alternate reality. Though nothing bad came out of it, he did not want that to happen again, especially if it would be someone else’s life. He was practicing against target plates rather than sentries, he added a shot timer to measure his reaction time. He had a goal set up of only having a maximum of 1.5 second reaction per target, from the target popup, to aiming his rifle then to shooting it. However, he would still give himself some allowance depending on the context of the target. Lance moved forward to shoot, until he heard a target popping up behind him. He thought it would be too slow to do a 180-degree turn and engage the target, so he spun around but decided to fall on his back. The move was intended to surprise the supposed enemy and might cause the shot fired at him to miss by suddenly presenting a lower profile. Lance fired two shots to the target when he hit the floor, then quickly stood up to scan for more targets.

“What’s the reaction time for the last shot?” Lance asked the shooting range AI.

The AI replied, “1.9 seconds.”

“That’s—” Lance was about to comment but then cutoff by someone.

“Not bad, impressive.” Pidge was standing on the doorway of the shooting range.

“Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Lance said.

Pidge gave Lance a small smile, “I see you’re spending more time here.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to train.” Lance winked at her. “By the way, what are you doing here? I thought you’re doing something in the lab?” Lance rarely saw her in the shooting range, he wondered why she was there.

Pidge gave out a heavy sigh, “I decided to take a break, it gets quite boring there really.”

“Wow, Pidge and taking a break? What a weird combination.” Lance joked.

Pidge got back at him, “Hey! I find it really good for me, plus playing KBP is more fun.” She almost forgot what she came here for, “I was actually about to invite you to play Killbot, but then I saw you’re busy… Next time?”

“How about later? You know, being the Sharpshooter here and working on something.”

Pidge smiled at him, “Yeah sure.” Then she remembered the incident back in Beta Traz, and talking about being the Sharpshooter, she asked him, “You wanna see something?” As Pidge went to the console to open a preset scenario.

“What is it?” Lance was curious.

The shooting environment switched to a long-range scenario and a small structure appeared with target sentries and a ‘friendly sentry’ inside.

Pidge instructed Lance, “Change your Bayard into a sniper rifle.”

“Okay, I see where this is going but how am I going to see the targets? They’re clearly obstructed.” Lance exclaimed.

“Just aim through your scope.” She told him.

“Is there something supposed to happen?”

“Hold on,” Pidge entered a command into the console, “There.”

The targets appeared in Lance’s scope, “Woah,” he was amazed that he could. Lance moved his scope around the building, checking the scan coverage of his scope. He wondered how it operated, “So how does this work? My scope seeing through the walls?”

Pidge explained, “Your scope is actually indirectly seeing the targets. The scope is not emitting anything but is receiving something over there.” Pidge pointed at the small structure.

Lance looked up to where she was pointing, “Really?”

Pidge continued, “Yep. There’s one sentry inside that’s ‘friendly’, it’s sending out a sonar signal that bounces around the room or obstacles to determine whatever is behind. When the signal returns, the suit forms the ‘map’ of the surrounding and it sends it to your scope. Remember how bats use sound to see in the dark or move around?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s pretty much the same principle but on a more refined scale.”

“You said the friendly sentry is sending out the sonar, does that mean you need to hack an enemy sentry to let me see through walls?” Lance questioned her.

“No, there’s no need to. I just simulated the capability in the sentry because our Paladin suits has it. The entire suit is a sonar array itself, capable of sending out an omnidirectional signal for proper 360-degree coverage. The suit actually has a phased array sonar to be specific.”

“What does the last part mean?”

“Phased array means that instead of having a single transceiver module to send out a signal, the system is composed of smaller modules that work together to send out the signal. Doing that increases image resolution, scan range and improves scan time. Also, kinda like an incandescent bulb versus an LED light, the latter one being better in general.”

“Wow, that sounds cool.” Lance sounded amazed from what he was hearing.

“Also, since the suit is sending out the signal, it’s able to ‘tag’ the contacts found by the suit to determine if it’s friendly or a bad guy. There’s already a tag information database in the suit of known contacts, but there’s still an option to add one if there are friendlies nearby. I’m still not sure about the specifics of the frequency used by our suits, but it’s high enough that the so called ‘image resolution’ would produce a good map. A high image resolution means that we or the system can distinguish contacts clearly. Like being able to determine that an enemy sentry is actually an enemy sentry instead of something like a support column. Whatever material the sonar would hit would produce a particular sonar signature that can be unique from one another, an algorithm is used to sort out that stuff. It’s a very useful thing.”

“If I’m getting these things correctly, the suit ‘maps’ out the surrounding area to see if there are contacts then the processed map goes to my scope? So, I’m able to see because of the suits?”

“Yeah, you got it.” Pidge added another detail, “By the way, the suit has around 20 feet of mapping distance. Any more than that, then you lose image resolution and the map wouldn’t be as good.”

Lance sounded astonished, “That’s a lot of things, I didn’t know it was that complicated.”

“There’s still the data link for the suit-scope communication which is a neat thing itse—” Pidge was cut off by a notification from her lab computer, “Oh, I have to go. Sorry for cutting this.” Pidge sounded a bit disappointed.

Lance replied, “Hey, don’t worry, I know I’m not good with those things, but I’m glad you still took your time to explain those things to me. I did my best to understand them and so far, I did get them all.”

Pidge placed her hand on his shoulder to help reassure him, “Don’t say things like that, Lance. You’re smart in your own way, don’t let anyone else say otherwise. And sorry for when I was being harsh to you when you just want to learn new things, I’m still getting used to making things explained simpler.”

“It’s alright Pidge, I know I sometimes get annoying.”

Pidge just gave him a hug, she wrapped her arms around her waist and pressed her face on his chest. She suddenly thought of doing it, maybe it was the right thing to do.

Lance was surprised when she did, but slowly dropped his arms and wrapped them around her. The hug gave him a slight blush on his face, but thankfully for him, they were facing away each other.

They stayed for a few seconds before pulling back.

“I didn’t know I needed that hug, thank you again.”

“Later, Lance?”

“Yeah, later, I’m waitin’ for you.” Lance gave her a smile.

With that, Pidge went back to the lab and Lance continued with his training.

Their interaction just made Lance more pumped up, suddenly feeling alive and ready for the challenges set.

~~

Lance, Veronica and Kinkade were in an overwatch position on top of an abandoned building. They’re providing sniper support for the ground team who are about to infiltrate a Galra stronghold.

Keith asked for the support team’s cover, “Lance, you ready to cover us when we get inside?”

Lance confirmed, “Ready to go.”

Pidge and Keith teleported inside the stronghold using Kosmo.

Pidge said, “We need to find a port where I can hack in. A control panel or a substation.”

“Got it.” Keith replied. Then two ran through the hallways.

Lance saw the two moving inside, “Got you, Keith. Scanning for hostiles,” Lance cautioned them, “Sentries on the other side of the east wall.”

Pidge and Keith teleported away from the hostiles.

Keith asked, “Lance?”

“You’re clear.” Lance replied.

Pidge and Keith stopped by the column where the tunnels were splitting in two directions.

Lance instructed them, “You guys are gonna have to take the right tunnel. But wait,” he warned, “There are sentries approaching both tunnels. Hold position.” Lance counted down, “Coming up to you in three, two, one.”

Pidge and Keith teleported behind the sentries then they moved towards their objective.

Back in the abandoned building, Kinkade asked how Lance was able to see through the walls.

“That thing pick up heat signatures?” Kinkade asked.

Lance explained, “It actually locks on to their suits’ sonar imaging and renders a 3D map within a 20-foot perimeter. It’s cool Paladin stuff.”

Even though there weren’t much stuff described, Kinkade was still amazed by it, “Must be pretty neat with all the advanced tech you have out there.”

Lance smirked, “Yeah, it is. Especially when someone teaches you about it. It’s amazing.”

Tfw you have to dig out the meta you have written because you forgot the explanation 😅

Here’s a more detailed explanation for how the Lance’s sniper scope works.

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 32

We had all been ready to burst into the lab Rambo-style, guns blazing and bats swinging, but the reality of what happened was much more anticlimactic.

We couldn’t even get past the damn gate; great rescue party we were, and had spent the past ten minutes arguing about how exactly we were going to get it open without electricity.

I’d been all for scaling it and just doing this thing Marines style, but some of the more masculine members of our party were worried about losing some spare parts on the barbed wire; here’s looking at you Steve!

So instead I was sitting with my back against the control room whilst Dustin and Jonathan played press the button for the hundredth time!

“Do you think Nancy wants to break up with me?” Steve’s voice broke through my thoughts as he settled down on the floor beside me; and I began to wonder what brought on this bombshell now of all times.

“What? Where’s this come from?” I asked, confused, because Steve really had the worst of timings.

“I mean; she’s out here with Jonathan; of all people, and I mean; it seems like she doesn’t trust that she can just tell me things. You know what I mean?” Steve explained with all that heart wracking vulnerability I really needed to be less susceptible to.

I sighed, holding off rolling my eyes, because poor timing or not; Steve had asked for some genuine advice, and I suppose I owed him that much.

“Look; I don’t know a lot about what’s going on with Nancy...” I began, trying to soften some hard truths for his sake, because it didn’t take a genius to work out that maybe Steve and Nancy’s relationship wasn’t fit to last.

But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing in the long run.

“But even if she was planning on breaking up with you; it wouldn’t be your fault...” I reassured him, watching how his eyes never left the girl in question as she paced up and down the gate.

“You’ve done everything you can, Steve. And I think she already knows that.” I offered in consolation, patting him affectionately on the shoulder, because that’s the most I could give him right now.

Steve opened his mouth to reply, when suddenly we were bathed in light.

“The powers back on.” Nancy stated, breaking her pacing to rush over to the control room whilst the labs lights slowly began to flicker with life.

Steve and I got to our feet, following the rest of the party as they crowded outside the control room, watching whilst Dustin and Jonathan resumed their button mashing with twice the enthusiasm.

“Let me try...” Said Dustin, already making to push past Jonathan.

“Hold on...” Jonathan replied, still not done hammering his thumb on the button like a mad man.

“Let me try, Jonathan...” Dustin insisted, shoving past Jonathan to resume pressing the button repeatedly, as if a change of person was gonna do anything.

Still; the gate remained closed, and we remained locked outside whilst god knows what went on just beyond our reach.

“Son of a bitch! You know what...” Griped Dustin, practically slamming his thumb against the button as if he could pummel it into submission.

Nope. Wasn’t working, and I was just about to re-suggest scaling the fence, when the gate slid open with an aching creak.

“Hey; I got it!” Exclaimed Dustin triumphantly, but somehow I don’t think he was the reason it had opened up.

I stepped forward, ready to lead the charge through the gate, when Steve stepped forward, grabbing my arm.

“Hey; Lo. Maybe we should let Jonathan and Nance go in first, and we can wait out here with the kids.” He suggested softly, his hands still not leaving my arm.

“Are you kidding, Steve? Come on; they need us in there!” I argued, pulling away ready to follow Nancy to Jonathan’s car which he was already climbing into.

“Steve’s right. You should probably keep watch in case any of those things try to escape.” Jonathan agreed with Steve for perhaps the first time ever.

“No. Not gonna happen. I can help!” I insisted, marching over to the car; Steve following hot on my heels.

“Lola; please...” Steve begged, grabbing my arm again and spinning me to face him.

“Just listen to me just once...” He continued; his face looking drawn and tired for the first time tonight, and I was wondering what worries were running through that pretty little head of his.

“I’m not asking you to be the damsel. I just asking you to stay with me. Please.” He added; his eyes soft and painful as he looked into mine; and maybe he should’ve been more worried about what this looked like to his girlfri—

VROOOM!

I spun at the sound of an engine whirring to life, just before Jonathan gunned it through the gate towards the lab.

“Hey—“ I protested, but he was already whizzing down the street with no intention on turning back.

I spun back to Steve; who had one of those shiteating grins on his face, and shot him a look that promised a hundred degrees of hell later.

This boy was gonna get it. Mark my words.

——————————————-

Damsel in distress duty was well oversupplied, with two semi adults and three kids sat at the roadside like homeless bums, waiting patiently for our crafty crusaders to return.

I wasn’t talking to Steve; resolved in ignoring this asshole for the rest of the day and potentially longer.

So he suddenly decides to get smart when it comes to tricking me, but acts a total idiot the rest of the time?!

Well; let’s see how smart boy likes playing babysitter all by himsel—

“Guys...” Max called out from the road, eyes fixed on a set of glaring lights rapidly approaching.

I heard the rumble of an engine, then the sharp honk of a horn.

“Get out the way!” I exclaimed, tugging the girl from the road before she had the chance to become roadkill, just moments before Jonathan’s car came barrelling past at full speed.

We didn’t have time to wonder what his hurry was before another much more recognisable truck pulled to a halt beside us.

“Dad!” I smiled at his familiar haggard face as the window rolled down.

“Get in.” Dad commanded, leaving no time for heartfelt greetings before Steve pulled open the side door and began ushering the kids inside.

They all piled in; me included, endings up being sandwiched between Dustin, Max and Lucas in what I’d previously considered a spacious backseat.

Steve, meanwhile, climbed into the front seat and once again I’d been cheated out of shotgun; this time in my own dad’s car.

Still; now wasn’t the time to make complaints, not when dad gunned it at 70 down a 30 street.

Steve let out a sigh, leaning back into his seat as if he just ran a marathon.

“Jesus; that was...” He panted; not quite managing to get the words out to finish the sentence.

“What the hell happened dad?” I interrupted, leaning forwards between the front seat, because he never told me he was going to the lab, and I thought we’d agreed no more secrets?!

“I’ll tell you about it later, sweetheart; I promise...” My dad assured me, slowing the truck to a speed that was less likely to get us all killed.

Although the pressure to hightail away from here was becoming less and less urgent; the tension refused to dissipate, silence reigning supreme over the entire truck.

Awkward didn’t begin to describe it; the very knowledge that everyone in this car had been lying to each other in some form or another now glaringly obvious in the eye of the storm.

“Harrington.” My dad still spoke to Steve like he was that dipshit in the cells, sparing him a glance in the rear view mirror that only made the exchange more awkward.

“Mr Chief Hopper, sir.” Steve addressed my dad with more respect and awkwardness than he probably deserved; distinct memories of my dad opening the front door of our trailer with a shotgun in hand, perfectly portraying the paranoid strict father who wanted to protect his baby girl from delinquents like Steve.

Good thing he hadn’t met Billy yet. Dad would have a field day; though that was an issue best tackled after we dealt with a pack of angry dog lizards.

“I trust there’s a good reason you dragged my daughter out here at this hour?” My dad began; and I could already hear the cop in his voice, the interrogation well and truly started.

Steve opened his mouth to make an excuse; so used to me using the exact same tone and cadence in our arguments that familiarity tempted him to argue, but then he stopped himself; his better nature telling him it was best not to piss off the guy who could stop the police looking into his death.

“Yes sir; yes there is.” He replied instead; the tight discipline in his voice leaving me in a fit of giggles, because there was no way Steve spoke to anyone else like that.

“Good. I’ll be interested to hear it once you’ve told me why you’ve brought three children to a known military facility...” My dad drawled; his staunch disapproval near enough to put the fear of God into Steve.

“Yes sir.” Steve sighed, already resigned that this is gonna be a long and painful drive for him, but I had no sympathy.

Being a white knight had consequences; it was a high time he learnt that.

[marcusmettalus]

The Titan & The AI.

It has been almost 2 years since the start of the Red War, a year since the War ended. Most of the Red Legion are hiding in their most defensible forts and outposts, but only a matter of time before they too are taken out. The few Fireteams who have been to the Leviathan seem to be able to quell the behemoth of a ship’s appetite, for now.

Kraken-9 had other things on her mind right now, as she is now learning the new abilities her body have attained in these last 2 years. She knew years ago when she had been to the Plaguelands, which was once called Siberia during the Golden Age, she had been in contact with,, S.I.V.A. and during the months long campaign there, it seems she had picked up a guest in her body. But up until Ghaul kicked her off his ship and killed her after she lost her Light, SIVA was content to stay dormant.

Kraken looked down at her hands, the dim blue light of the cockpit washing over her body, she began to wonder. She had tried a few times to speak with the Nanites within her, see if they could answer her but they either ignored her, or were incapable of answering. Whatever they had done to her, they had done an incredible job. 

Byte and the cryptarchs went over her with scans and tests, finding that nothing was out of place, just,, improved. Her endo-skeleton had been reinforced and alloyed with some manner of metal never seen before, her pseudo-muscles had been just been utterly replaced with some sort of nano-scale coil fibres which seemed to outmatch her previous strength capabilities. 

She found that out the hard way when she managed to be at the wrong place and time for a House of Dusk Walker to drop right on top of her, only for her to slowly pick it up and off her, throwing it aside a dozen feet away, shocking a few fellow Guardians who were there to help in taking down the Fallen Armory.

-”We do not fully know how much of you has been changed Titan, but do not give the nanites an excuse to do anything more with your body. Who knows how volatile it is,,”-  Rahool had said such to her before she left the Tower, hopping aboard her Arrowhawk to head out to aide in the clean-up efforts on Titan. That was 8 months ago, and thus far SIVA has remained silent within her body.

Now she was about to take a great risk. The past 2 months Mars has become a hotspot, the Huntress Ana Bray had made some headway in getting into her ancient family’s complex on the southern pole of Mars, but the Hive seem to have gotten a head start with making a mess of things. That, and their Worm God Xol was there with them. But a large fireteam, with some heavy ordnance help, managed to put that creature down, for now. Now Ana had put word down the pipeline that she wanted Kraken to come to Mars, that something there might pique her interest. 

The Arrowhawk scorched through the atmosphere of the red planet, making its way down to Hellas Basin, to the Warmind Core of Rasputin. The Warmind who had unleashed SIVA centuries ago on the Iron Lords due to them misjudging the capabilities of the AI. Byte shifts into existance, looking over to his bound friend “Earth to Krak, we are here. No need for such a serious face right this moment. We aren’t getting into a Fireteam for the Leviathan you know?” his soft comforting voice was always an aide to the taciturn Titan, helping her get out of her brooding moments and focus on the now with a lighter heart. 

“I know Byte, just,, we are going to maybe end up talking to Rasputin. SIVA was made almost the same time as him,, who knows how much control he has over it.” Kraken sighed softly, her golden eyes looking over to her best friend, her only friend for many decades since her first Resurrection. She had seen the last stones placed in the creation of The Last City, Battle of the Six Fronts, all manner of dark and light times have gone through her memories.

“Oh it will not be so bad Krak. You’ll be fine. And I will be there to hold your hand all the way.” Byte warbles softly, lightly bouncing his dark crimson shell against Kraken’s exposed head, getting a chuckle out of the Exo. “Doofus.”

It was not fine. As soon as Kraken entered the main complex, Rasputin’s usual soft red glow blazed up and spoke loudly, his synthetic voice booming. “нарушитель, несущий украденную колониальную технологию. Возвращение, Возвращение, Возвращение, Возвращение.” [Thief, you who stole Exodus tech. Return it, return it, return it!]

Ana Bray clutched at her head, trying to block out the shrieking blazing discord of Rasputin’s outburst. Kraken quickly moved over to the central console, placing her hand upon the digi-scanner and responded “Распутин. Я не украл, это украло меня. Я принимаю это, а не по своему выбору. SIVA спасла меня. SIVA спас город.” [Rasputin, I did not steal it, it came into me. I am a host to it, I did not take it. SIVA saved my life, SIVA saved our City.] For a moment, the light flare before going back to its soft carmine glow, the console beeping softly as it pulled up the records of the Exo, seeing what she is, when she was first made during the Golden Age, her specs, her model number.

“Истина. Вы это говорите. Сайт 6, скомпрометированный враждебными силами. Guardian, очищенный Cайт 6. Растущие кластеры роста SIVA уничтожены. SIVA-узел внутри вас, контролируемый, тихий, ожидающий заказов. Научит вас приказам.” Rasputin spoke slowly again, his usual droning yet melodic synthesized voice echoed in the large chamber, Ana listening in awe as Rasputin spoke almost familiarly with Kraken-9, approaching the large Titan, glancing down at the console as a flurry of information crossed its screen at a blazing rate. Byte comes into existence as he looks between Kraken, Ana, the console then up to the massive AI core of Rasputin. 

“I am sorry, but when did you learn to speak a dead language?” Byte whirls round in the air, glaring at his charge, Kraken blinking at the Ghost before smiling sheepishly (as best as a Exo can) “Uhhh,, would you think I was lying if I said just now?”

“Kraken,, do you realize what he has just given you?” Ana is trying to make as many notes as she can from the whirlwind of codes and commands crossing the console screen “These are the command words for SIVA, these can help shape and order around SIVA clusters and growths so they actually build machines and cities for Humanity! We can rebuild!”

[fnlrndcllctv]

REVIEW: SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium (1999)

When it comes to 2D fighting games during the early/mid 90’s, there’s two names that absolutely dominated the scene with their releases and became household names;

SNK and Capcom.

To this day they remain some of the most well respected and most loved games companies in the fighting game genre, so the prospect of a crossover between the two companies back then was certainly a tantalising thought.

In November of 1999, we got just that in the form of SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium for the Neo Geo Pocket Color system.

While this wasn’t the first time we’d see the brands clash in a single game (that award goes to SNK Vs. Capcom: Card Fighters Clash, released earlier that year), it was the first time they would meet in the setting of a tradition versus fighting game.

The game was a critical success, and was followed up with entries in the genre that many consider to be the best fighting games ever made.

So, with the bar set so high with this historic title, it finally sees a re-release on the Nintendo Switch almost 22 years later as part of Nintendo’s Neo Geo Pocket Color Selection series, alongside games such as SNK Gals’ Fighters, The King Of Fighters R-2 and Fatal Fury: First Contact.

So, does it still hold up all these years later?

Let’s find out…

Gameplay

First of all, there’s a number of different ways in which players can play through the tournament mode (and regular versus mode); you can either go 1-on-1, fight a 2-on-2 battle as a tag team, or as a team of three in an elimination match. This variety of battle styles appeals to players who may be used to fighting in different forms.

Want to play this like a King Of Fighters game? Go ahead!

How about like the Marvel Vs Capcom titles? Play as a tag-team to your heart’s content, my friend!

For a game that utilises just two attack buttons, there’s a surprising amount of depth to how special moves are executed as well. Instead of relying on the four-button approach that SNK based their games on or the usual six-button layout in many of the Capcom fighting games, SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium’s control scheme actually focuses on how long the A and B buttons are pressed.

The longer a button is pressed, the higher the amount of damage it causes (but takes a hit to how quick it is), mimicking the LP/MP/HP and LK/MK/HK button functions in games such as Street Fighter II and Darkstalkers.

It’s a simple system that works wonders, and makes the amalgamation of each games franchise’s special moves work together seamlessly.

The game also boasts three different “power gauge” command styles to choose from too;

AVERAGE - This is similar to the traditional super gauge in the Street Fighter games, where once the gauge is filled up, more powerful versions of normal attacks can be pulled off.

COUNTER - This is a more defensive approach that allows counterblows while evading enemy attacks. It also has an exclusive function in the form of “critical hits”, which do greater damage if they successfully hit an opponent.

RUSH - This one only fills up when chain combos are successfully executed, and although this gauge nerfs your normal attack damage, super moves can be done at any time (as long as there’s enough juice in the tank, so to speak).

So no matter which side of the fighting game coin you land on, there’s definitely a playstyle in SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium that will suit you perfectly.

In the original release, if players wanted to play against each other, a link cable and another console were required, making it something of a inconvenience. Thankfully this new Switch port has 2-player versus available straight away by using the two joycons.

Story

The game’s main storyline centres around a not-so-subtly named fighting tournament known as the “Battle Tournament of Evil”, which promises the victor the title of “World’s Mightiest” and a ridiculously high amount of prize money.

The benefactors and organisers of said tournament? None other than Fatal Fury’s Geese Howard and Street Fighter II’s M. Bison!

This newly formed alliance of nefarious (and powerful) psychopaths has an ulterior motive with the tournament, and intend to create an “immortal military” whose first wave of elite soldiers are to be the captured contestants.

The character stories vary slightly depending on whether an SNK fighter or a Capcom fighter is chosen, and the game’s ending depends on the outcome of a specific match during the tournament where a player faces off against their rival.

Putting together the two “Big Bads” that are synonymous with their respective franchises is a great move and the fact that players can get a “bad ending” through poor performance in just a single match ups the ante somewhat as well.

Roster

SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium’s roster is comprised of 26 different fighters (18 of which are immediately playable, with a further 8 that are unlockable) from across the various SNK and Capcom franchises;

From the King Of Fighters, Fatal Fury and Art Of Fighting games, we get Kyo, Terry Bogard, Iori, Ryo Sakazaki, Mai and Leona.

From Psycho Soldier, we get Athena.

From the Samurai Shodown series, we get Haohmaru and Nakoruru

From Street Fighter II, we get Ryu, Ken, Chun-Li, Guile and Zangief.

From the Street Fighter Alpha series, we get Sakura and Dan

From Darkstalkers, we get Morrigan and Felicia.

The unlockable fighters in the game are from a good mix of the various games series, and there are 4 to unlock for each side.

It’s an impressive roster for a game that was released on a platform like this, and does a great job of bringing together the more familiar faces of Capcom’s games with some perhaps lesser known fighters from the SNK side.

Graphics

SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium’s stylised graphics are one of the most immediate things players will notice about the game.

The character sprites are more cartoonish versions of each fighter’s normal likeness and all strictly adhere to a 3-colour palette. Considering the history of alternate looks for 2D fighting game characters being simple colour swaps, this simplistic look works really well for the most part (well, Zangief might be the only exception here…).

Seeing the fighters in motion is also a joyous thing too, as the movement during fights is fluid and animated to a brilliant degree. Even the animations when characters are idle feel charming in this game!

A large problem with fighting games on handheld systems during this era was that they all too often felt like an attempt at creating a scaled down version of the bigger, more technically advanced games to fit the lower specs of the systems, ultimately resulting in a crappy version of the game.

Games such as this, along with many other titles in the Neo Geo Pocket Color library, always felt like they were made from the ground up to fit the system, so they not only played well, but they also looked very unique in a really positive way.

SNK Vs Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium is arguably the best of the bunch, and it deserves praise for it.

As is par for the course with retro fighting game re-releases on modern hardware, there’s also some extra display options to help things feel like the real deal, but with this (and the other NGPC releases on the Switch), there’s the option to view the game in a mocked up fashion on a number of different Neo Geo Pocket Color models. It’s a nice touch that effectively shows the amount of care being put into this port.

Stages

The stages in the game are essentially a megamix of different locations from several SNK and Capcom games, ranging from the helicopter wreckage in The King Of Fighters ‘94’s Brazilian jungle, the Great Wall Of China from Street Fighter Alpha: Warriors’ Dreams and the crashing rocky waves of Japan from Samurai Shodown to the cloudy Japanese castle of Ryu’s Street Fighter II stage, Morrigan’s spooky Scottish Darkstalkers cave/lair combo and the moving train carriages that pass by Mount Rushmore (over and over again) from Fatal Fury 2.

There’s plenty of references for longtime fans of these games to spot, and they have been recreated perfectly to fit in with the game’s visual style.

I mean, sure, some of the characters in the backgrounds do look a little murky and lack detail in places, but when you consider that the screen on a Neo Geo Pocket Color was a smaller, low resolution affair, it can be ignored for the most part!

Replayability

SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium’s gameplay experience is essentially split into two halves.

One one side, you have the regular versus game modes and a story mode to fight through, as one would expect from pretty much every fighting game. On the other side is the unlocking all of the hidden characters and beating a plethora of minigames to earn new special moves.

This is where the game’s replay value truly shines through, and its nice to see that it’s all present in its original form on the Switch port.

These extra games are known as “Olympic Mode”, and is divided up into separate SNK and Capcom sections. While both sections do share some of the same minigames, such as the 100-round survival match, Time Attack and the “whoever gets connects with the first hit, wins!” mode, there are also a couple of games that are unique to each brand.

On the SNK side, managed by Samurai Shodown’s Rimiruru, we get “Targets” - a shooting game that sees players assume the role of Marcus from the Metal Slug franchise as he shoots down as many aliens as possible. We also get “Blade Arts” - where players take on the role of Samurai Shodown’s Jubei as he slices through as many straw dummies as possible before a timer expires.

On the Capcom side, managed by Street Fighter Alpha 3’s Karin, we get “Ghost Trick”; which sees Ghosts ‘n Goblins’ Arthur having to jump across platforms to collect treasures on each side of the screen while avoiding a pesky Firebrand that pops up between them. The other challenge - “Cat Walk” - is a Dance Dance Revolution-style minigame that sees players have to quickly input buttons as they are announced so that Felicia can dance along.

These extra modes are pretty challenging, and undeniably make the game feel so much more complete, while also showing some much deserved appreciation for other iconic games in both companies’ back catalogs.

Final thoughts & overall score

SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium is fondly remembered by many as one of the best handheld fighting games ever released, and the Switch port further cements that notion, bringing the series into the modern era.

The visual style of the game still oozes charm, the gameplay system still feels immensely satisfying and the wealth of extra playable content that is packed into it puts many of the more well known titles of the era to shame.

With the features of the Nintendo Switch implemented, the small handful of nagging issues that came with the game’s original release are now completely fixed, making this not only a cool item of interest for fans of either SNK or Capcom, but an absolute essential for any fighting game fan.

For the purposes of this review, a review copy was provided by Renaissance PR on behalf of SNK.

Do you agree with our review of the SNK Vs. Capcom: The Match Of The Millennium?

Let us know in the comments section below!

[katyslemon]

How to Upgrade Your Database Plan on Heroku and Rails Setup?

Ruby on Rails is a very established web framework, and Heroku is a platform as a service that offers for building, running, and operating the applications in the cloud itself.

Since you are reading this, I assume either you have some horrifying task of playing with the production database or are just curious! So let’s get right into it.

This method works on any Postgres plan you have on Heroku.

Follow these 09 steps to upgrade your plan on Heroku and Rails set up and experience how things work wonders.

===========================================================

Step 1: Firing up your Heroku App Console

This step is for absolute beginners; the complete process will be done on Heroku Rails Console.

For accessing your console, use this command :

heroku run rails c --app your-app-name

===========================================================

Step 2: Backing Up Current Database

Perhaps the most important thing you should never forget is to ensure that your current database is safe. Therefore we will start with backing up your database and then downloading it. For this process, use these commands in your console.

heroku pg:backups:capture --app your-app-name heroku pg:backups:download --app your-app-name

===========================================================

Step 3: Get your application’s current information.

Since we are done with backing up the database, now we need the current information of the application regarding Postgres. pg:info command comes in handy here. I would suggest saving the output of this as it will be helpful later.

heroku pg:info --app your-app-name

===========================================================

Step 4: Creating your new database

After you get the information from Postgres, you need to create another database with a required plan ( for me, it’s hobby-basic ). Find the command below: // use pg:wait command to notify you when provisioning ( database creation ) is complete. //

heroku pg:wait --app your-app-name

> HEROKU_POSTGRESQL_SILVER_URL //Sample o/p – your’s can be different

===========================================================

Step 5: Enter maintenance mode

Until now, all the above processes didn’t affect your current database, but now we will be copying all the data from our existing database to the newly created database. Since we don’t miss out on any entries, we have to take down our website. Yes, I feel sad too. //Scaling workers to 0 to ensure that delay jobs don’t write to our database. //

heroku ps:scale worker=0 --app your-app-name

//Entering maintenance mode

Heroku maintenance:on --app your-app-name

===========================================================Step 6: Transfer data from old DB to new DB: Read more....

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

More old stuff from the depths of the MSA folder. This one’s actually pre-Freaking Out, which makes it... a little weird in hindsight.

The basic premise is that Lewis was attacking Arthur in Ghost thinking he was still possessed, and this is following up on it. Again, it’s super old, please forgive any outdated information. Also, it’s very incomplete.

It was easy enough to figure out that they'd come to the right place. The wispy pink ghosts that flitted to and fro-- weaving through the cave's walls and humming to themselves-- were a solid confirmation. They paid the van no mind as it rolled to a halt outside of the entrance and failed to interfere as everyone got out.

As he shut the driver's side door, Arthur took a deep breath, clearing his head of Vivi's incense, and held it for a second before daring to look up.

Logically, he knew that the cave hadn't changed since he'd last stood in front of it, but even in the last rays of sun, it somehow seemed darker and more foreboding than it had before. There was probably some psychological babble that would explain it away, but nothing that he knew for himself.  

Vivi's hands stilled in the middle of righting her scarf and clenched into fists. She was the first of their procession to head forward, Mystery and Arthur trailing along the path she forged.

Going back was likely the hardest thing Arthur had ever done. Step after trembling step, he forced himself onwards, reassured only by his friends' constant presence.

At the fork in the road, Vivi stopped.

"W-which way do you think…?" On one hand, there was nowhere Arthur wanted to be less than the overhang that the left hand path would lead to, but, on the other, he didn't want hurt Vivi by suggesting the lower route. It wasn't safe to split up, but… maybe he could muster the courage to escort her outside where it was safe, and still come back.

When he looked at her, her face was set in a determined scowl, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

"This way." She announced, seizing Arthur's hand and marching them down the right hand path, Mystery trotting dutifully at his other side.

They couldn't have gotten any more than half-way to the main cavern before they noticed the heavy mist pooling at ground level, kicked up with every step. It became exponentially thicker and harder to maneuver through as the path sloped downwards, though it didn't seem to faze their fearless leader.

"Vivi," Mystery called, softly, but with an air of authority that left no room for debate, "We've gone far enough. If we keep walking blind, we'll risk falling, too, and I doubt any of us want that."

"Well… yeah. But if we're careful, then maybe…?"

"Absolutely not. This isn't a natural fog. We're already taking a significant risk simply being here; there's no need to tempt fate like this." His snout twitched as he looped around Arthur and nudged a reluctant Vivi into turning back the way they'd come. He had to interpose himself between the two of them in order to start any sort of forward motion-- Vivi because she still wasn't sold and Arthur because he knew what came next.

"If it's any consolation, I honestly don't believe that the fog was meant to be a trap. Working under the assumption that Lewis is here, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that he doesn't want to see--" There was a sharp ending to the word, and it was obvious that Mystery had stopped himself before his words took a different turn. "--the cavern's floor."

He fell silent again, and Arthur couldn't help noticing the way the dog's fur bristled; he made a token attempt to smooth it back down as they neared the landing, but abandoned it when Mystery shook him off.

Vivi rocked back and forth on her heels during the half-minute they waited for Mystery's go-ahead. Even after it was granted, his ears swiveled and nose twitched sporadically as he tasted the air. Knowing that he was keeping such close tabs on things was a comfort, but the fact that he thought the demon might still be there made it a cold one.

They walked in strained silence, a far cry from the usual chatter that colored their expeditions. Vivi was usually quick to give the low-down on the could-be haunt and answer questions that nobody had asked while Lewis alternately humored her and tried to soothe any of Arthur's concerns. With a pang, he remembered that was exactly what had happened as the two of them scaled this incline. It had been a story about one of the younger Pepper sisters back then-- lighthearted and goofy, something to take Arthur's mind off of the investigation.

As if it weren't already obvious, the silence was a huge indication that they were all on edge.

While not nearly as intense as the lower path had been, fog still found its way underfoot and coiled around their ankles-- transparent enough to see through and posing no obstacle as they walked onwards.

Mystery's ears perked up before too long; though he didn't elaborate, the lack of immediate action was enough to assure the two human parties that, whatever he'd heard, it wasn’t a threat. A minute longer and they were able to hear it for themselves: the pink ghosts' humming. It wasn't the same aimless tune the ones outside emitted; there was a clear purpose behind the harmony, something that would have taken preparation and practice by human standards. The offending choir came into view when they passed the final turn.

None of them dared to venture out onto the overhang, which emerged in a jagged line from the sea of mist that leveled out just below it.

A trio of the small ghosts hovered a dozen feet above the fog, roughly in the center of the cavern; each had its eyes closed and looked perfectly peaceful as they sang away, heedless of their new audience.

Said audience didn't pay them much attention, drawn to a different focal point.

Though angled away from them, the spirit watching the ghostly chorale was easily recognizable. The skeleton from the mansion was nowhere to be seen, and it was almost enough to make Arthur wonder whether it had actually been his friend. He looked to Vivi, trying to gauge her reaction, and turned away before she could notice him. If he didn't acknowledge it, maybe he could pretend he hadn't seen the way her eyes narrowed as she fought back tears.

The spectral warbling came to a slow halt and, for one heart stopping second, Arthur thought they'd been spotted. If he'd been in the state of mind to think it through, he'd have realized that being noticed was kind of what they'd been going for, but he liked to think that he had a hell of a good reason not to be rational.

There was a beat of silence as the ghosts opened their eyes and blinked in mockery of vital function before turning to the odd spirit out. Lewis gave them a short round of applause and said something too low and far away to make out, but it seemed to satisfy the three, who hovered without cause for half a second before disbanding.

At the same time, Lewis unknowingly turned his back on his friends and faded into the air.

"Wait!" Vivi called, crashing back to reality. "Lewis!"

There was no response.

"I know you're still here somewhere! Please, Lewis, come talk to us!"

This time, something landed heavily on Arthur's shoulder and he jumped, whirling around to face-- oh. Yeah. That was definitely the skeleton from the other day. Vivi inhaled sharply and made to reach over, but was stopped by Mystery's warning growl. Who, exactly, he was warning-- and of what-- remained up in the air, but that wasn't at the forefront of Arthur's mind for the time being.

He was a little more focused on the dead eyes boring holes into his own and the way the hand on his shoulder solidified its grip.

"Get out." Demanded a guttural, inhuman voice.

"B-but you tried so hard to meet with me the other day." Arthur offered, making an honest effort to crack a smile. Some distant part of his mind chose a very inappropriate time to muse that 'Ghosts could smell fear, right? Or was that werewolves?'

In response, Lewis's grip tightened into what would have been a bone-creaking hold and his free hand lit up in pink flames.

"Get out of him."

"Out of… out of me? What do--" He stopped cold and swore he could feel the blood drain from his face. "You knew?"

"I know. You can't fool me." Said ghost hissed, eyes narrowing further as he studied the young man in front of him. "Last chance: out."

In one fluid motion, Vivi ducked the arm holding onto Arthur's shoulder and slid between the two of them, holding both hands up in an attempt to placate the spirit. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up there, pardner. I don't know what you think is goin' on,  but it might help if we're all on the same page, yeah?"

For half a second, Lewis's expression flickered, but he immediately shook it off; if anything his demeanor hardened even further. "Mi dispiace."

Glancing at Arthur out of the corner of her eye, Vivi frowned in trepidation and, hesitantly, asked, "For what…?"

As if to answer, the fire in Lewis's free hand blazed brighter.

"Enough." Mystery announced for the second time that night. While he wasn't a small dog by any measure, it was hard for him to stand tall enough to command much attention-- especially compared to the seven foot specter standing opposite of them--  so it was only on reflex that they all stopped, allowing him to interrupt so thoroughly. He nodded once at both living parties and added, "Let me handle this." before turning to Lewis.

"I understand that the demon who used to dwell here is long gone. You have every reason to be suspicious of anyone with ties to this place, and heavens know we've seen too much possession to rule it out of a situation like the one we've found ourselves in. That being said, I can assure you that nobody here is hosting any manner of spirit; if you were to stop playing guard dog for five seconds and look, you would be able to see that for yourself."

The miniature speech succeeded on several fronts: it got Lewis's attention, allowed Arthur to worm himself free, and snuffed out the ghostly fire. It did have one major downside, though: with the exception of any physical contact, Lewis focused everything on Mystery instead.

"Ah," The dog said feebly, backing up half a step out of sheer surprise, "I should have been more clear. Of course you wouldn't know that I'm not--"

Lewis used the backwards momentum to his advantage and took two silent steps forward, filling the space Mystery had vacated. If he could act as a human barrier in life, it was even more effective in death. When Vivi and Arthur tried to move around him, he threw both arms out, blocking them.

"Don't." He rumbled, palms turned inwards and lit with fuchsia fire in a clear threat. "You'll only embarrass yourself."

Mystery refrained from rolling his eyes, but only just. "Oh yes, I'm the one embarrassing myself, not the juvenile ghost refusing to listen to reason."

"Listening sounds good!" Vivi put in, making to duck Lewis's arm again. The instant she cleared it, he brought it back, sweeping  her into a secure hold against his chest and inspiring an indignant yelp. After a second's struggle, she managed to worm one arm free, but little else.

Lewis gave Arthur a warning look and was moving to hold onto her more securely when she doubled her effort. With his attention elsewhere, he didn't notice when the renewed flailing neared the heart floating gently above Vivi's head, though he certainly did notice when it sent the glassy trinket skittering across the floor.

In unison, the four froze.

The same could not be said for the sextuplet of wisps that appeared out of nowhere.

Two flanked Arthur-- one holding on to either hand-- and another two filled the rapidly diminishing space between Lewis and Mystery. One more curled around Vivi's shoulders, phasing the two of them back behind its leader, while the last nudged Lewis towards the heart.

The heart, which had come to a halt on the overhang, less than a foot from the edge.

Lewis stumbled forward with momentum that the gentle prod couldn't have provided and fell to his knees. He clapped one hand to his chest, but then went very still.

Mystery made to step forward, but the pair of ghosts that had interposed themselves between him and the others started hissing viciously, warding him away. Had they been able to, Arthur and Vivi would have tried something similar, but were still stuck where the wisps held them.

The pinpricks of light in Lewis's eyes dimmed as he stared sightlessly into the cavern. It only lasted half a second before they came back full force, encompassing the empty sockets in a violent pink glow.

Vivi called his name to no avail. Mystery snapped at the spirits blocking the way. Arthur was about to point out that the behavior was probably a very bad sign, but was cut off by-- of all things-- the cave.

The cave… flickered.

Rocky walls fluttered into peeling wallpaper and the wooden steps to a battered runner before snapping back. The omnipresent mist faded rapidly from relatively innocuous white to magenta and back again.

While the lack of living paintings and animated suits of armor made it incomplete, the resemblance to Lewis's haunted house was uncanny.

Witnessing it form around them, on the other hand, was a completely new experience-- one that wasn't helped by the jarring shift from cave to mansion that happened every few seconds

---

Even from so far away, Arthur recognized the setup below-- from the smooth stone walls and spindly torches to the moth-eaten curtains pulled away from a sleek coffin. He backpedalled instinctively and made to bolt, but, somehow, found himself facing the same outcropping, the same drop and same scenery. Shoulders quaking, he turned around, dreading what he'd find.

What he found was nothing. The hallway was gone. The basement was gone.

The stone he'd been standing on was gone.

A strangled scream ripped itself from his throat and, distantly, some vicious part of his mind supplied that 'Karma's a bitch'. His body was shaken with a sharp impact and oh god, he was dead, he was so dead--

Except it really didn't feel like dying-- but, then again, he was no expert when it came to the subject,, so how was he to know what it felt like? For all he knew, maybe death was a dislocated shoulder and constricted ribcage.

Then the light flickering through his closed eyelids registered and, warily, he cracked one eye open.

He screamed again and struggled to close himself back off from reality. That had been a bad decision. The basement was better than the stalagmites. Almost anything was better than the stalagmites.

Amidst the panicked thrashing, he didn't notice the fact that, even though he was losing altitude, he wasn't exactly falling-- so it came as a surprise when Arthur landed, bruised but without any new piercings, on something mercifully solid. Even with the rock under his palm and cold seeping through the knees of his jeans, he didn't dare open his eyes again.

"Arthur!"/"Oh, thank god, I thought you had…"

---

"But I saw you fall-- how did--?"

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and forced himself to look down.

Though the fog was as thick as ever, the glow of ghostly fire cut through it remarkably well, allowing Arthur to see all the way down to the bottom level.

Sure enough, there was Lewis, somehow managing to curl in on himself and slump against the rock shelf at the same time. His chest heaved and his hair spat fitfully as he slowly dragged himself upright and turned his head away from the sea of spikes.

"L-Lew?"

For the second time that evening, the ghost refused to acknowledge them.

Something blue approached in the corner of his vision, and Vivi knelt down at Arthur's side. She made to peek out over the edge and faltered, falling back on her haunches; regardless, both of them could make out the furious muttering sounding from below.

"M-mi dispiace."

She frowned; while none of their group but Lewis was fluent in Italian, there were a number of phrases they'd learned to recognize.  That was one of them.

"I'm sorry," He repeated, "I-I wasn't-- io non sono…" Lewis's voice cracked and he fell silent.

Vivi didn't see the full-body shudder that shook his form, but Arthur-- still peering out over the cliff's edge-- did, and, without thinking, stretched his good arm out as far as he could. It was a fruitless gesture considering the twenty foot drop, and the only one who noticed it was Mystery, who wasted no time grabbing him by the collar and tugging him away from the edge, chiding him under his breath all the while.

"There's something wrong."

The kitsune gave Arthur a flat look. "You don't say."

He trotted back over, and Arthur was on the verge of calling out this hypocrisy when Mystery announced "I'll handle this." and leapt down.

There was a strangled squawk from the general vicinity of the cave's floor.

Vivi snorted as she rose to her feet and dusted off her skirt with one hand, a fragile smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. Absently, she ran a thumb over whatever she was holding in her opposite hand and said, "Now that sounds a little more like Lewis."

-

Mystery's tails drifted lazily behind him, dispersing the supernatural fog for several seconds before it rushed back to fill the void. Between the two of them, there was a reasonable bubble free of the mist-- though, he noticed, it extended far enough to reveal a single stalagmite.

Though Lewis's attention was mostly fixed on him, he noticed the ghost's eyes flicker between himself and the spire more than once. Without a second thought, one tail lashed out and leveled the rock.

It went without saying that, between this display and the sudden lack of any distractions, Lewis focused back on Mystery.

"Now that I have your attention, maybe we can work this out like civilized beings. I'm giving you two options right now: behave and let me help you up or stay down here until you have enough energy to leave by your own power. I'm sure it'll be a very difficult decision."

Lewis didn't say anything, though, gradually, he stopped trying to become one with the wall and rose to his feet. The initial pang of-- had it been fear?-- faded from his eyes, replaced with suspicious curiosity.

Ah, of course. Hadn't Mystery himself been trying to say that Lewis wouldn't know his true form?

"I'm sorry," He rumbled, careful to keep his voice gentler than before, "It wasn't my intention to scare you. It's possible that I haven't thought this all the way through."

There was a quiet "Lot of that going around." from opposite him, and he let out a short bark of laughter.

"Now listen to me; I do appreciate the vigilance, but there's a fine line between caution and paranoia that you're approaching very quickly. The demon that did this to you isn't possessing Vivi or Arthur-- you saw that for yourself-- and I should hope that this little dog-and-beast show clears up any further doubt as to whether or not I'm housing it." Mystery took a measured step forward, and then another when Lewis failed to respond negatively. "I swear, none of us have any unsavory goals in mind--  and you?"

"I just-- I thought that--" The spectral voice warbled before cutting out, and it took Lewis a second to formulate the words. "If the thing that killed me was still in Arthur, then you were all-- I just wanted to protect you guys."

"I see." Honestly, he'd assumed as much from the little stunt on the upper path, but he'd had to be absolutely certain before letting things go any further. Mystery pressed his muzzle to the ghost's skull briefly. "I'm glad to hear it, but, if we're going to continue this conversation, I think it would be prudent to take it outside. I, for one, have spent entirely too long here. Grab on and I'll help you up."

He crouched down and kept still as a pair of arms gingerly wrapped around his neck and was about to make the leap when one of Lewis's hands balled up in his fur. He hesitated.

"Mystery… if it's not with you and it's not here, then where is it?"

The kitsune took in a deep breath and held it. "We'll talk about this outside."

And, to put a temporary halt to any objections, he prepared himself and jumped, landing lightly in front of Arthur and Vivi.

---

It was dark outside when they emerged from the cave, but not in the same way it had been before. In hindsight, the unearthly gloom around the tangle of greenery should have tipped them off that first visit; its absence was striking when compared to the familiar darkness of nightfall.

Something else that became painfully obvious was that the van had become a subject of interest for a handful of the wispy ghosts.

"Hey!" Arthur shouted, sprinting towards the vehicle with a fist raised in warning, "Get away from there!"

"Relax, Arthur." Lewis said automatically, surprising even himself. Somehow, bemusement shone through in the way he manipulated his bony features and, as the spirits scattered, he remembered to add, "They can't do anything to it."

The blond turned to argue his point, but snapped his jaw shut when he noticed that two of the culprits were attempting to hide behind his friend. He spun on his heel and trudged back towards the van.

"Freakin' ghosts…"

Vivi rolled her eyes and trailed several feet behind him. When she realized that Lewis was still hovering awkwardly-- and literally-- between points A and B, she turned back around, looped an arm around one of his, and marched him over to where Arthur had opened up the back doors.

In all actuality, she marched and he allowed himself to be towed around, but that didn't have the same punch to it.

"You left your incense burning." Arthur said pointedly, nodding to the container. Sure enough, smoke drifted up from it in delicate plumes and the entire van smelled like an evergreen forest. The scent spilled out of the van in a lazy wave, clashing horribly against the dead trees and tangled undergrowth that curled at the road's edges.

Vivi pushed her glasses back up her nose and, without a trace of remorse, said, "Oops."

Mystery rolled his eyes-- whether it was at Arthur's somewhat-justified indignation or Vivi's non-apology was anyone's guess-- and trotted past them, hopping fluidly up into the van so he could stay level with everyone.

"If you're done…?" He began, interrupting what was sure to be a staring match for the ages.

Vivi huffed and swung herself to perch next to him and Arthur collapsed bonelessly into a heap of limbs, purposefully angling himself so he could get the occasional breath of fresh air.

Lewis remained stubbornly in place, hovering lowly off the ground and doing a good job of not looking at any one person for too long.

"Now, just to verify that we're all on the same page: we all want what's best for everyone else, nobody is possessed or malevolent, and, despite all appearances, nothing that happened this week was acted out with revenge or murder in mind. Did I get that right?"

A trio of mumbled affirmations answered him.

"Good. So where should we start?"

Normally, it would be Vivi's voice that dominated the conversation at this point-- posing questions nobody else had considered and tossing out miscellaneous observations-- but this was the exception to the rule. After their brief exchange at the cave's floor, it didn't surprise Mystery when Lewis was the first to speak, still staring hard over the van's roof.

"Where did it go?"

The dog sighed. "To be quite honest, I don't know.  After I… removed it from Arthur, we had other matters to attend to and nobody was in a position to track it."

He ducked his head in a strange canine shrug and, out of the corner of his eye, watched for Arthur's reaction. For his part, Arthur flexed the fingers of his prosthetic and frowned at nothing, squirming under the sudden scrutiny. Vivi remained silent, leaning backwards around Mystery and worrying at her lip as she considered the mechanical appendage.

When he turned his attention back to the ghost, Mystery found that Lewis had given up on staring into the distance, but it was hard to read his bony features as he followed Vivi's line of sight. His eyes narrowed and he almost floated nearer, but stopped himself at the last second, settling for watching at a distance.

Without looking away, he gave a terse nod. It was the set of his shoulders and the way he held his arms close to his chest that gave him away: unhappy with the answer, but willing to accept it.

Vivi seemed to catch on to this-- and to Arthur's obvious discomfort-- and, louder than strictly necessary, asked, "My turn?"

Mystery shot her a grateful look. "I don't see why not."

"Good." She braced herself against the bumper with one foot and sprang off of it, landing gracelessly, but steadily, on the ground.

Lewis took what equated to half a step backwards without ever touching the ground, which was lucky for him, as it left him out of reach when Vivi threw her hands up in the air.

"You. What the heck, man? What was a) that," She thrust a thumb over her shoulder, "And b) that about?" With her free hand, she pointed at the cave. It was a ridiculous sight, the way she left her arms splayed out in opposite directions, but nobody commented on it.

Lewis ducked his head, clearly embarrassed despite the lack of expressive features, and raised a hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck. This, of course, was an anatomical impossibility, and all he managed to do was swing a hand through the empty space below his skull and run into his upper jaw.

Vivi broke into peals of laughter and, beside Mystery, Arthur made a strange keening sound that was probably something between amusement and mild horror. Mystery himself snorted into his paws, not at the dismayed cry but rather the way Lewis tried to steady his head.

In a transparent effort to distract everyone from his slip-up, the ghost said, "I had a plan. It wasn’t a very good one."

Head still resting on his paws, Mystery felt his chuckling turn into a long-suffering sigh. The claim wasn't hard to believe. There was a reason that Vivi and Arthur had always been the ones to plan out an investigation; that reason was because, no matter how well thought-out, none of Lewis's ideas went as intended. It was a fascinating phenomena, but more than a little irritating.

The thought that he'd been planning something without his state of being under complete control was unnerving. That he admitted it wasn't exactly a good plan was downright terrifying.

In hindsight, they were lucky it hadn't turned into a deadly game of Mousetrap.

Beside him, Mystery felt Arthur stiffen and Vivi pulled a face.

"Yikes. Okay, you know what? Let's save that one for later."

Earlier embarrassment coming back full-force, Lewis cast his gaze downwards; the way the light of his eyes shone over his cheekbones, it  almost made it look like he was blushing.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Vivi stepped forward and, when that failed to get her a close enough look, stood on her toes.

"Interesting." She mumbled. After a second's contemplation, she jumped and made to touch his hair.

Startled by her sudden movement, Lewis backpedalled and automatically threw his hands out to catch her around the waist. Unperturbed by the flurry of motion, Vivi went on to prod at the tame fire, and, frowning thoughtfully, moved her hand in front of the ghost's eyes.

She nodded to herself and repeated, "Interesting."

"…Vivi?"

"You can put me down now." The instant her feet hit the ground, she went on to add,  "Could you please change back? This is getting really distracting."

Lewis hesitated, drawing his arms back to his chest and laying one hand over his lapel. "I… can't. Sorry."

"Why not?"

For several seconds, he floundered, starting and giving up on half a dozen sentences before settling on, "It's, um, my heart. The problem is that it's actually-- Vivi?"

It was an excited squeak that threw him off, as Vivi rummaged through one of her skirt's pockets. He floated nearer, trying to figure out what she was doing, only to have a silver shape brandished in his general direction.

Vivi's hands shook as she held it up and, without thinking, he reached out to steady them. Automatically, the heart righted itself and began rotating gently above her palms.

She squinted at it, doing very little to hide the way her eyes shone behind her glasses, and said, "First you break it, now you lose it-- who trusted you to take care of this thing?"

Though he didn't have any need to breathe and, in fact, hadn't been doing so, Lewis's breath hitched.

In such close proximity, the heart simply gravitated towards its rightful place, but he still ran a hand over it, just to be sure it was where it belonged.

---

Instead of protecting it from any further mishaps, Lewis folded both of his hands over Vivi's. He wasn't surprised when she tore them away and flung her arms around the approximation of his neck instead, and moved to support her. "I missed you. We all did. P-please come home."

He leaned forward to press his forehead against her crown. "Of course I will."

Vivi sniffed into his shoulder and let go with one hand, using her sweater sleeve to rub at her eyes before releasing the ghost completely.

---

"I suppose that makes it my turn."/"Regardless of the quality, what do you plan to do now that your 'unfinished business' has been settled?"

The look Lewis gave him was slightly incredulous. "It's not."

"But Arthur isn't possessed, and you know that he and Vivi are safe."

The ghost nodded slowly. "But… it really doesn't feel like I'm done here."

Mystery hummed in thought and backed off, choosing to focus elsewhere. "Regardless, what do you intend to do with yourself?"

After a brief hesitation, Lewis shrugged. "I really only planned through the mansion."

"We're keeping him." Vivi announced both loudly and decisively, taking several bouncy strides and positioning herself between Lewis and the van almost defensively. She looked as serious as Arthur had ever seen her, and the gleam in her eye practically dared someone to object.

As it turned out, the only one who needed convincing was Lewis himself.

---

She regained her composure quickly, and nodded to herself as though she'd won some sort of battle.

"Good." She said, turning on her heel and leaping back into the van, ignoring the way both Arthur and Mystery were trying to look interested in something trivial. "Like I said, we're keeping him."

Arthur stumbled to his feet and stretched, glancing at Lewis before leaning over the front seat where Vivi was already busying herself. "Y'know, I don't think there was much of a question there."

"Exactly."

The blonde snorted and hopped it, landing in the passenger's seat without any outward complaint. Inwardly, he was dreading the drive that awaited them; an excited Vivi drove, well, excitedly. An angry Vivi also drove excitedly. Vivi, as a matter of course, drove excitedly,  and Arthur half-turned, looking for someone to back him up.

Instead, he caught sight of Lewis closing the back doors and Mystery nudging the ghost with his nose.

"You do realize that this makes you the second paranormal creature Vivi's adopted. Congratulations. I assure you, you're in good company."

Too late. Vivi revved the engine just as the second door latched, and, before the van started tearing down the lonely road, Arthur heard one last smart remark from the back.

"You even have a dog tag. Adorable."