#it’s worse with elpis I hate it so much more with elpis

[impossible-rat-babies]

probably bc it was less bothersome in ShB but the whole botanist/fisher studium quests are weird

[aetherstorms]

So a post popped onto my timeline due to the Fandaniel tag, and it reminded me that a vast swath of the fandom hates Hermes. They hate him for being depressed, for living in a society that he doesn't fit into, for being unable to conform, and for causing the Final Days (I assume). So I've decided to write it. I've decided to say why I love Hermes, and why I still love him as Amon and Fandaniel. This is going to be long, and contain personal comparisons to support why I feel such a strong attachment. Obviously this is very personal, so if you don't want brief insights into a stranger's mind, just keep on scrolling. It really is a lot to take in.

First of all, and I believe this is my first time saying it on this blog, but I'm autistic. As such, I live in a society I don't fit into. I have a lot of trouble with face to face interactions. I have a lot of difficulty maintaining eye contact and reading body cues and tone, and this has only gotten worse since the start of the pandemic due to avoiding people as much as possible to avoid getting sick. I don't see Hermes as autistic, but the fact he feels differently than those around him, the fact that he has such high empathy for the creations of Elpis, definitely causes him to be isolated. Whether they actually push him away, or he just has trouble connecting because they can't understand his point of view, it's pretty clear to me that he's quite lonely.

His short story told me that it was probably more of the second thing. They don't seem to reject him, but they can't understand his feelings, so he withdraws. When he decides to make Meteion, his fellows in Elpis apparently go to great lengths to help him create her. They want to help him, they want him to be happy. There's simply a gap they cannot bridge. Unlike in real society, those around him are compassionate toward him despite his differences.

But, through no fault of their own, this compassion also hurts him. He worries that he is an aberration. Because no one around him feels as he does, he thinks of himself as a freak, as someone different and it bothers him. He withdraws further. How often has this man removed his mask to have an earnest conversation with someone? I feel like when he's talking to the WoL it may be the first time he's done so, at least in his adult life. If he had even one friend, or person he considered a friend, might he have broken so easily? Or would that one tether have been enough to give him pause? It's hard to say, since in that moment it was so so very clear that he wasn't in his right mind. He had heard Meteion tell him horrible things, and he felt he needed to subject himself to all of it.

Yet, remember his question at the end of Ktisis Hyperboreia? Even though Meteion was telling him previously that all the Meteia found was death and murder and pain, he still asks her 'was there happiness in those distant stars? Was there a reason for living?'. He still hopes for good news. He still wants to hear that things can be okay. Meteion does not give him good news though. She tells him more of the same, more suffering, more pain and death. She snaps completely, overcome by the agonies of her sisters, and Hermes falls to despair. If this is the whole of the universe, then this must be what Etheirys also deserves and if they can prove themselves better than the whole rest of the universe, only then will they be able to survive, whether they deserve to live or not.

The fact that much of the fandom seems to hate him for this decision is troubling, to say the least. They slap the 'bad guy' tag on him without any further thought. They don't consider why he makes this decision, they don't see him as a man at the end of his rope, who sees no other choice he can make. As it turns out, he could have stopped the Meteia right then and there. His staff can apparently communicate with them, so he could probably have ordered them to return like Emet-Selch told him to. But his sympathies do not lie with mankind, not in that moment. He sees the Meteia as being the ones in the right, as of course they must be as creations that sense emotions. Even though he asked a flawed question, he isn't thinking straight. He was a man with depression, and having been pushed to the brink, he makes a decision that in the moment seems like the correct one.

From the perspective of those around him who obviously aren't privy to his thoughts, of course this seems an evil act. From that perspective, of course they would hate him. But we the player have seen him struggle. So why do so many hate him for this decision when they must surely know that the circumstances that brought it about were unusual? Did they forget that not long before they were chasing Meteion because she very much did not want to give her report, knowing it would hurt Hermes? Did they forget that just before she began her report, she was expressing that she was sorry to Hermes? Did they forget that she had been fighting against the will of her sisters to give that report? She knows this man, her creator, better than anybody. She knew what this news would do to him. If anyone is the villain here, it's us for forcing her to give her report. But only Meteion must know how this is going to go, or at least she has the best guess, and we can only do as the game dictates. The ending was a foregone conclusion, and it's one we already know. But why do so many hate him when they know more about his pain than presumably anyone aside from Meteion?

But that's just Hermes. Why do the players hate Fandaniel? Because he's flamboyant? Because he's annoying? Because he's weird? Because he's an utter nihilist? Maybe it's that last one. If you don't have depression, without knowing why he feels this way in the moment it's presented, it's easy enough to go 'what the hell?' and hate him for wanting to destroy everything. But why continue to hate him afterward? With the context of Amon and the things he saw? The player knowing he suffered for five millennia (he states ten when dying as Zodiark, which I still find curious) and found nothing good. He was a man who was forced to help kill entire worlds on top of the belief he already had in Allag that it should all end simply because his Emperor willed it so.

Now, to be perfectly honest, as something of a nihilist myself, I admit I might have a leg up on understanding him here. I see the atrocities around me and think how much better it would be if humanity just stopped existing. But I also make a point of seeking proof of the opposite, just as Hermes did. Maybe Amon's problem is that, like Hermes, he was isolated. Given current evidence, it seems like Noah was his only confidant in Allag and she stated that he was dour and serious until he succeeded in bringing back Xande, and he may not have tried to gain friendships among the Ascians. With that assumption, it's hard to want to find the good in mankind. He certainly wouldn't have been encouraged to find it.

But why not hate Emet-Selch, who created the Empire that broke Amon in the first place? Who had, by his own admission, created many Empires, all of them presumably as horrible as Allag and Garlemald. Why is he so popular? Because, also by his own admission, he kept trying to find a connection to us? Because he sees what he's doing as a step toward restoring what was lost, something the player can more easily relate to? Which even the Scions admit sounds logical from a certain point of view? Do they hate Fandaniel because he has no wish for anything better, but rather an end to everything?

I like Emet-Selch, but I have no idea why others like him, only why I do. Just as I can only guess why others hate Fandaniel, Amon, and Hermes. If I was given a big red button to kill all of humanity, would I press it? The answer may surprise you. I wouldn't. I wouldn't because I have people I care about, because I own pets specifically to keep me from killing myself when my depression would otherwise overwhelm me to the point even my friends wouldn't be enough. Hermes, Amon, Fandaniel....they don't seem to have had those things. By all indications, they were very alone and while Noah seemed to have a greater insight into Amon than any of Hermes' colleagues did, even she could only tell us so much.

Hermes had Meteion, but then she brought him multitudes of misery, a whole universe of it. His only tether had told him it essentially wasn't worth it and Amon states he dreamed the memories Kairos had supposedly erased until he was given the seat and memories of Fandaniel, giving him context. But he was plagued with these dreams supposedly his whole life. He dismissed them as dreams at first, but to see such things night after night probably didn't do his mental health any good and then he finds out these aren't dreams, but memories. He knew about the true cause of the Final Days, and then he's given no reason to believe in the good of man when he's basically made to foster the opposite. Is it really any wonder he was so manic at the end? His goal was finally coming to fruition. His suffering would finally be over.

Maybe that's why so many people like Emet-Selch. He's a bastard and a mass-murderer sure, but he's been doing all of this for a cause he believes in. Twisted as it may be, it's relatable; he just wants his loved ones back. This is a story told all throughout history, of people doing whatever it took just to get their loved one (usually their lover) back. The man is a walking Greek Tragedy. Fandaniel on the other hand wants everyone, including himself, to die. Not just die, but suffer on the way. Most people won't stop to think about his reasons, even when he outright hands them to you. It really does show how experiences shape you. If you haven't experienced things in life to make you feel the way he does, it can be hard to see why he'd think this way.

When Kairos does its work and we see Hermes outside Ktisis, he's obviously still injured and no one knows why other than Hermes' 'vague memories' of what he decided he would believe had happened to Meteion. He gave himself an ending that would ensure he never looked for her, never tried to use his staff to call out to the Meteia again. He was wounded physically, but emotionally he was shattered. He calls himself a murderer in Hythlodaeus' short story, after all. he is depicted as a man who throws himself obsessively into his work to the point of self-neglect, most likely to punish himself and also to distract himself.

When the Final Days came, how did he hold it together? How did he not fall to despair to be consumed by his own aether creating a monstrosity? Did the Meteia consciously spare him? No, I don't think so. Meteion offers him oblivion before she flees. She sees this as a mercy he has denied. She loves him, she would not want him to keep suffering. In this I can't guess how he managed not to be consumed. Maybe he suspected the true cause, or at least a part of it, and as he'd said, he would be working against the Meteia. He seems to very much be a man of his word, at least. Even to his own detriment. One cannot deny one's nature.

But yes, I both understand and don't why so much of the fandom seems to hate Hermes and his reincarnation, but if you've made it this far, you definitely deserve accolades. This was a lot, but I found I could no longer leave it unsaid. It was an unpacking of myself, the character(s) and an attempt to figure out why those who dislike them do so.

Of course, there is a difference between empathy and mimicry. Most of us have a healthy separation of fiction and reality. He's just like me fr, but that doesn't mean I'd want to do what he does if I had the power to do it. He's a fictional character with fictional pain that just happens to reflect a mindset I can understand. But it seems many can't understand or relate. They just see a man with an incomprehensible viewpoint and they don't even try to understand his thinking. I think I can understand why they don't understand, but at the same time it really just proves his own point, doesn't it? No one tries to understand people who are different than them, it seems. Not if they're the majority. At least the people in Hermes' life were apparently kind in their interactions with him, misguided as he saw their attempts.

[stxrmnight]

Endwalker Story: Meeting Venat...

First Elpis Replay post, Previous to this part 2.

Post is what the title says. Yuri under the cut. Don't like? don't read

Leaving the transporter, Nemi asked what the hell was the bizarre Shark man in the distance. She probably had felled one of this before but to see someone deliberately created that was... icky. She heard Hyth start to rant about receiving more fads of this concept with no real thought for practicality of sense of an about to be living thing, when she tried to shake her arms and make him move away from the beast plunging at him, and then... A woman in white and a sword that, singed with familiar energy knocked out the Sharknado. Nemi knew who this is, but seeing her just swoop in like that...

"Oh wow... she's strong," escaped her mouth. "Heh, excus me?" ("Shit, I said that out loud," was regretted in her mind.)

That her first word was to bully Emet and expose him as a young piece of shit? And he wasn't retorting. Incredible. She must be a knockout at bars and parties but ah... what is she doing thinking this of the one fated to become something as distant and irrelevant as Hydaelyn? They were so, different.

"She sounds fun- AH SHE IS LOOKING AT ME"

She should have known Venat would recognize her own magic in the Blessing of Light. There was no point in denying it, much as she smiled courteously and swallowed. At least the fact Venat's acceptance of uncertainty meant that, she was taking this well. Others would likely freak out and attack her or something like that.

When Hades scolded her for keeping secrets of the fate of the star, she just crossed her arms and explained she couldn't have an impact, stipulating it was one of their own who said this before sending her here. Venat enthusiastically remarked they were "meant to meet" then, and she was looking forward to knowing more the person bearing her "mark." Nemi might have exploded.

She recovered quickly and helped her search for the lost concept, commenting "You sound like you prank people like that often." How exactly? Venat wondered and Nemi pointed to the idea of her, marking someone. Like what did that mean in this context? Venat explained it's really to find lives again in the great expanse of the world, be a small bee she gave water to or a traveler from another biome. She'd even begun fashioning a way to try to find this traveler magick for other people to use to find each other, but others were vexed by its complexity. This made Nemi surprised later, at the dinner in Venat's chambers, that botomless bags seemingly were not invented yet.

With the time come to tell everything... she concluded she might as well come clear and take the sash off her eyes, but keeps her hair tucked underneath. Venat was awed by her eye tattoo, warmed by its family inheritance meaning that Nemi shared with a smile. There wasn't such a sense of family permeance in Amaurot, and carrying something form your origin through your life was such a beautiful way to live the nature that made you. making her smile and say it's passed down and mixed in her clan of family.

Hythlo kindly intervened they needed to get talking, pointing to Emet sitting grumpily. He saw Thanatos' lesbianism bleed way worse from Nemi. And though he didn't want to believe what she would tell, it'd at least mean he didn't have to fear his colleague secretly hated him.

Nemi joined her hands and gave a heavy sigh. Her face was now stern with a heavy frown. "Well, form the beginning? be warned, you won't like what you hear... or maybe not, from what I've gathered here."

After she's done speaking, she just sits back with irreverent air, but does lean when Venat is vexed by Hydaelyn's decision to cause the sundering. That she finds odd opposing the 14th.. is she happy with society as it is then?

As they try to figure, Nemi just looks away, feeling mixed about pushing them to guess to themselves, wanting to argue with Venat that it's been millenia and people change over time drastically. "You don't have to fit yourself to this mold of the future. You are you right now." But Venat stresses she knows herself. It's just an exercise to find answers and logic to help the future.

Then Hades' interjection made her jaw drop and need to cover her face. Never would she think she'd feel second hand embarrassment for this guy. If only the Scions could hear this...

"Hmm, you do sound like the asshole I killed, I gotta say." "Neirmer! You said yourself we're not like the after!" "Sorry, I'm not gonna lie about what I did. You will come to threaten all I hold dear as well, and such fate can't be changed." "Even if your ridiculous story was true, I would not hurt you just for having an insufferable mouth! I'm a civilized man!" "True... it's just hard when you're not that different in personality of disrespect, you know? But let's move on." "..."

When saying she feels Hermes and Meteion seem center of the mystery, she expresses their grievances feel natural to any person of the future. She tries to ask who started the philosophy of "the will of the star" and if there were other rituals to deal with the grief of elected passing, and everyone looked lost for an answer. Nemi incquired if anyone ever passed away to disease or accidents, and they said even murders are inconceivable. Then Nemi wondered if they're truly so good warders of the stars if they can't understand the creatures who are mortal, specially the ones they create. Only Venat could respond that, she came to love them in their travels, and didn't neglect one detail to ensure her concepts' happiness... but she stopped creating after Argos. She didn't find the vastness of the world lacking of more life. At this, Nemi smiled and said they should search clues together.

They were surprised by how well they flowed with inquiries. Nemi got to make people open with casuality of their interests, letting Venat get to the heart of the matter in an unsuspecting way. Nemi wondered if Venat's travels made it so, since not everywhere can be like Amaurot's cushy walls. Venat said there are many people outside of these walls of all kinds, even some who don't like the Ancients, but people in the city rarely do acknowledge they exist unless they're to be saved of natural phenomena. Nemi recalled the volcano situation with Thanatos... but didn't ask about it.

Nemi drops the fact Meteion has more sisters casually, making Venat wishes she mentioned it earlier. Nemi apologized for this flaw, too used to filling reports that filled everyone up to speed. Venat squinted at her and she admitted it was more regular than that. Venat laughed and patted her back, saying she's so earnestly sincere and honest then. Nemi blushed as they walked closer to their next inquiry.

When the archivist lament Venat hasn't returned, Nemi is shocked. She almost yelled at them if not for Venat side hugging her and replying too briefly. way from them, Nemi asks baffled if everyone says they look forward to watching you her die, why do they think death is rest when they know it erases their self, not even taking breaks in their lives! No one sounds like they take a break in their actual lives! "This, this is bonkers! And I can tell you're not happy with it either. Don't throw that honor bullshit at me as well."

Venat looked at her transfixed, then admitted she, wished that people understood her choices. That walking with her makes her wonder if a future of mortals would think differently... Then asks her, how beautiful is the future?

Nemi says the future is more beautiful, that everything is free to take its own shape and form. There are always new discoveries, and... There are customs and beliefs, shaped by the nature one lives in, and traditions and beautiful art that would not flourish in this past.

When Venat asks of her adventures... she would tell her of the avdenturer guilds, of finding the crystals, of the floating city of Nymnh, of the many minerals that fortified her craft, of her village's ways of survival, of the rivers of Doma... every person she weeped for in her imprisonment in the lightwarden, the joy of Ala Mhigo' back's flag flying, the Winds of the Churning Mists, seeing the Night bloom in the First, what she has treasured with the scions and her friends.

When Venat responds with her speech about life, Nemi is totally awed, intertwining her own fingers and taking them to her heart. She asks why she talks of needing to help humans stand.To her, it just sounds like she just wants to behold life's beauty.

"That is alright... you have done a lot already." "What is it with you and this talk of winding down?" "Well, I heard you all don't know how to play but, you don't seem that lame. Surely this is a rest for you too inbetween?" "Hmm, maybe I'm as shaped by this rhythm of life you find so monotone." Venat took Nemi's wringing fingers and interlocked them with her own. "Maybe, you could stop me." Nemi gasped with heated cheeks. "B-because others don't appreciate the world how we do?" Venat smiled and lowered their hands. "Because you may hold answers I seek... tell me, has your journey been good has it been worthwhile?

Venat's question makes tears spring, but she rasps her breath and nods determinedly. , or well was going to. she is irritated by the interruption, wanting to talk to Venat more and her passion, and a measure of concern. But this moves her to think of the next possibility, and that is when she excitedly points at Argos. She is amazed by how much gruffier he is now, then fucking, questions why in the goddamn is the dog picky about fighting skills.

Nemi is intimidated by Venat's sagacious air, but she takes courage and takes her hair cover off. "If this is what it is, then I won't censure myself any further. You'll see my kicks fully!"

After Nemi endured Venat's last blast to one knee, Venat held her up and checked over her robes. Nemi gestures her to stop fretting even as she struggles to stand, giggling in her hold. "You should know... my real name is Nemi, Nemi Norxares. That's who endured your ravaging today." She smiled so wide that Venat's face burned up.

This only didn't continue cause Argos jumped on them, making them go witness the flight of the Meteia through the echo. Nemi would connect the tree nearby to the forms of those at Ghyr Abania,but colors of Lakeland. Venat wondered if she could gaze them through her mind, if she allowed of course... Nemi batted the hand caressing her hair away playfully, saying they really need to focus.

When they walked back to the others, Hythlo perked at seeing Nemi's face fully uncovered, and for what reason this time? When Venat teased Nemi to be civil, Hythlo grinned at Nemi knowingly. She could not hide, specially when Venat grabbed her hand strongly after she returned from the morbol gardens.

At the garden, she claimed to Hermes that she felt more safe to unveil in this world, now that she met someone like Venat. Hermes is puzzled, and Nemi explains she sees nature more freely than she thought. Something told her to, ask Hermes if it's alright, and give Meteion a hug and carry her on her shoulders. Hermes had to scold her the morbols were still around.

Nemi looks downtrodden when Hermes says "even you Venat." Guess she overstimated her a little or, assumed too much of her lives experiences, but it's not what she wanted to imply. Nemi stressed that "Despite everyone's lack of tact,"she really thought there was more to this they had to find out, for the sake of everyone's safety. This relaxed Hermes while Emet glared, continuing to formulate why the blasphemies were formed as they were.

Emet gruffed that she has capacity of better behavior and, well.I think there is no more to say lol.

Then when Meteion was invaded by the doom of necrospace, Nemi tried to reach her to calm her even as she too was twisting in pain and agony on the floor. She teared up when Meteion begged to be left alone, screaming into the nothingness to please not bottle up her hurt. She needed both Venat and Hermes to get her up and settle, struggling to explain what even just happened. Whatever it really was, they needed to find her fast. Who knows how a small mind like hers would decide to, make it stop.

Nemi tried but failed to counter Emet's insistence to take Meteion into the city, knowing stopping this would just be denial of what inmerse hurt had just occured. Hermes thanked her kindness, lamenting this society would not listern to her either. And so, he had to take flight to the top of Ktisis Hyperboeia. Though she fought to the top, she was the first to approach Hermes and beg to let her be present, at least to find a way. Hermes smiles sincerely at her before trapping them all in chains, putting her too distant to pass Meteion's last words before losing herself: "Please, protect all..."

When chaos unfolded at the escape, Nemi concentrated and broke her chains with her claws, hissing with her tongue and scaring Hermes off into losing concentration. She argued her presence meant to be the steps of humans of a different kind, who deserved to know the physical step to what their kind struggled with emotion. She recited Matsya's prayer, and showed her claws and tongue as evidence of the torture she'd endured for survival, and coming out of the other side with friends and love. Hermes looked up at Nemi's tearful gaze, and weeped as the Death of his kind acknowledged his suffering. He peacefully let her and Venat go, begging her to give Meteion a kinder fate.

Once they descended, Nemi asked Venat if she's okay. She asked if Nemi was okay, with all the twisting and corrupting she claimed to go through. Nemi sighed and shook her head, saying that was just for Hermes to hear really. Venat gasped and asked if she didn't trust her. that she too was horrified at the idea this world might be the last to love life. Nemi said it was not about that, but how she seemed to not be concerned to limit Emet and Hythlodaeus' pushing. She said they were just doing their duty as convocation members, and Nemi waved her hand exasperatedly.

"Exactly that! In your travels you've never learned how to treat people who are unwell? Maybe if I didn't show up, this calamity would have started way worse....."

Venat took a deep breath, and said they had to check on the others. Nemi sighed and followed, weirded but not opposed to Argos' mode of espionage. Nemi scoffed offended being called a manner of creation by someone else. "it's not my fault I got transmogrified!"

Venat begged her again to tell her what exactly happened to her, and Nemi questions her interest. Did she look at her like another bizarre creature like everyone else here? Was that why she was coming off so strongly on her? Venat stepped back like slapped,

"In that case, what do you think of Meteion? Do you think we have to simply stop her, or save her from the cacophony neither she nor the world that created her could bear?"

What is Venat's Answer?

I'll make that post, soon hopefully...

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

Also Nekrotefeyo was criminally underused for the legendary Eridian homeworld like I was expecting like a big abandoned city or a completely decimated apocalyptic place, not a dried up ocean bed (Are they maybe more crustaceans instead (?) of bugs???) with like 2 Eridian buildings on it and also Maliwan for... Some... Reason. Seriously. Dark Maliwan was so clearly cut content and I wanna know wtf that was all about. Also we got Promethea so it isn't like they weren't capable of making a big city area, like the restrictions of the engine wouldn't allow it, they just didn't... Feel like it? Maybe didn't have time to flesh it out given how late nekro is in the game? Seriously it feels empty as fuck, I love exploring the planets, but even as a certified lore lover I just can't bring myself to explore that place more than I have to for quests. It's really empty and boring

Also, I am bet that the big glowing thing we see coming out of the planet as it fragments is related either to the Machine and the souls sacrificed to make it work, or the Guardian soul main storage thingie. Mainly because ghosts and such are real in the bl universe and they're all that same glowing green sort of deal. It also reminds me of Krieg's mind planet projection thing which does add credence to that. That is potentially why Minos Prime 'hatched', it could have been a storage place for other, maybe reject(?) Guardian souls and that's where all the Eridian and Guardian stuff randomly came from that Tannis keeps goddamn repeating every time u play the takedown. FE Minos Prime was a testing site for prototype Guardians and the souls (I don't want to call them mind cores because the mind core we got from the Vault of the Destroyer was solid and not green and don't even get me STARTED on that whole situation because there was cut Overseer dialogue from when you take that thing out of the Vault and why WAS it even in the VAULT OF THE DESTROYER and Hhhhh) were stored in Minos Prime until whoops they got out. And I'm guessing they sacrificed the people of Minos Prime to the Machine (we literally left nobody guarding it sooo) bc Tannis says they just vanished without a trace. Which ALSO adds bonus points to my theory that the Eridians aren't dead and are just chilling elsewhere laughing at us right now.

I still think Lilith brought Elpis to the Eridian Rift on the map Typhon and Leda wrote all over and she's vibing there, too. Maybe it's a sort of stasis place where time doesn't pass so the people of Elpis don't die. Idk how Lilith would know about that but then again given the chest in her room I would honestly not bet against my whole 'Lilith had help from the Watcher and/or the Eridians during/before Bl3 and refused to tell us' which is why she just vanishes at the end of the game and takes Elpis with her.

And also why Sanctuary-III randomly exists when we have never heard of the company that made it before (seriously what is supamax mfg), it's somehow in good enough condition that Moxxi and Ellie could fix it up with their scarce resources, and they found it before any other people did (can probably chalk this one up to Tannis if there were cameras or it was hooked up to the ECHOnet of Pandora, but the other two points stand). I would've been okay with it if it were an Atlas ship Rhys sent over or smth, if it were an old Hyperion ship, if the branding of supamax mfg was Moxxi and Ellie's team effort of making a spaceship company in honor of Scooter- literally if any of these things were explained in-game, but they're NOT. So I am left to go 'what the hell where did this come from what is Supamax MFG' and like, a random company we've never heard of existing is totally fine, we're introduced to the Obsidian Black Block and Hephestus United as well, but it just feels weird that this random supply (?) ship just happened to go to Pandora for some reason and then also crash or was abandoned for some reason. If we could just get a scrap of info on Supamax MFG and why this ship was on Pandora I'd be happy. Their branding is Ships Made Quick so clearly they build ships which is fine.

Did Lilith contact them? If so, cool, could we get an ECHO log of that? Where did she get the money after Sanctuary-II blew tf up? Did she or Moxxi or Ellie have connections that allowed them to get the ship made for cheap or free? Why did they decide to make the ship out in the open when they knew about the rising CoV threat?? Was the ship stolen? Did the Crimson Raiders just kill a bunch of people to get their hands on it? I doubt it, but this shit isn't explained! So yeah when I write theories like 'Hm well maybe this ship was planted here by the Watcher' its not because I'm driven insane by the Eridians it is because we literally have no other reason to go 'maybe not' and with what little information we do get during the game, it could be fuckin possible!!!

Lilith apparently knew more than she was letting on, she was contacted personally by the Watcher during the end of TPS (brick specially had to ASK what the Watcher said to Lilith), so yeah fuck it the ship and everything that wasn't explicitly explained was given to Lilith by the Watcher to help her in her quest for whatever the Big One is in bl4. Bc you KNOW that Bl3 was just the lead up to get the Destroyer to slip out of its chains thru Tyreen's meddling (literally in nyriads log right before the final boss and its not like ty absorbed an entire planet sized monster and was the size of, like, a shortish tree so you know the Destroyer is still in there as it's further confirmed by Scourge when he says shit like you don't even know what you just did blah blah shut up loser- the only thing pointing to the Destroyer ACTUALLY being dead is that the Vault (????) of the Destroyer (???????????????) opened after Tyreen died but then we can make the Vault of the Architects argument that maybe it considered her part of the Destroyer and her dying confused the Vault into opened, iunno. I don't even know why that Vault was there in the first place wtf was its purpose I thought the Vault of the Destroyer was either the other Pandora one (emergency human feeding port to a monster that doesn't need sustenance) or literally Pandora itself in which case killing Tyreen should have destroyed the whole planet by opening it soooooo I guess that Vault exists to circumvent that extremely specific problem only the Eridians would have guessed could happen idk) and to set the Guardians up as villains cuz fuck them that's why (>:( please gearbox don't, make the Eridians the bad guys if someone has to be evil pretty please the Guardians aren't the bad guys they are literally gaining sentience right now give them a chance they gotta figure themselves out and the Eridians fit the whole 'corporations exploiting their workers' vibe with the Guardians being forced to work even after the Eridians are gone so don't let those parallels slip away with shortsighted storytelling) but then it hurts even worse cuz the story could've been so much simpler and just... Sweeter and better than what we got if that's all they had to do was set those two things up. Bro I hate how every time I go to ask questions abt the game it leads me back here. Because it's true!! And it hurts I just wanna sit down with the lore manager of the game and ask them all these questions because I'm genuinely curious, but I'm afraid of the answers or non-answers I'll get. Again, I get the whole 'things have to happen for plot, not everything should be questioned, give the writers some slack to write a story' argument but when EVERYTHING falls under that category and the story didn't even end up being that great, it gets really frustrating because HONESTLY? if we had gotten good lore and explanations to things and actual world building and details and all that? I wouldn't have minded the main story so much. But unfortunately we got neither good lore (I wanna tell Nyriad she was lied to very badly because it's either the Eridians are evil and liars about a lot, or nobody thought twice the implications of giving the Destroyer a feeding port that explicitly calls humans to it) nor good main story (you know.) and it just. Is annoying. That's all.

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - Frost

They had an unspoken agreement, Ven and Troy.

Had for a long time, back since he'd taken The Oracle as an aide to that sponsorship meeting on Vigil-5.

A full night cycle travelling subspace in a ship escort had eased both of them into really talking. Well, that and the 30+ cocktails they must have managed on Maliwan's tab. The vessel was fully catered after all, would have been stupid to waste the gesture.

Troy had asked after months of rolling the question around the back of his mind, if Ven would tell him when deaths were close. Not for him of course, he knew it didn't work that way and whatever magical alien bullshit fueled the other man’s “unique” outlook swam into confused blurs if he focused on Siren markings in future threads, but for other people. People that mattered. Jak-Knife. Seifa... he'd tell him, right? He knew, right? Had looked ahead for everyone?

Ven winced back his 8th martini and stared into the glass like it might answer in his stead if he could bribe it with another shot of disgustingly overpriced spirits. First time Troy had ever seen the man squirm.

"...Yeah boss, I look. Tell myself I won't every time I meet someone new, but." he'd reached to refill his drink as he slumped back further into the transport ship's luxury armchair, just pure gin this time though - no room in his stomach to waste on mixers.

"...But I always do."

He swallowed the shake in his voice before he continued, eyes heavy as he refused to part them from the glass he nursed gently side to side.

"Can't not. How could I, if s-something happened to them and I could have stopped it and didn’t? Nahhhh."

The shot slipped down his throat in one smooth pour, and Troy had smirked at how much practice that must have taken as he rolled his own drink slowly in claws that left scratches across the crystal tumbler.

"But big guy, I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone, it's not how it works...  cause soon as I tell someone? It changes. The act of telling them changes the outcome, does that make s-sense? It's like... I'll see one thread clear, but soon as I make it real, soon as I put it into words? It's gone. They slip onto another and sometimes it's worse, even harder to avoid.” a discolored human finger jabbed accusingly in Troy’s direction from under the ridge of the Eridian arm’s hand shield. 

“The deal of uh.. the deal of speaking this shit. Sometimes t-that's enough to wipe it from existence completely." he finished with a wobble to that caramel smooth voice, shrinking back into the lavish chair and gesturing sloppily at the Maliwan branded service droid that had eagerly scuttled over with yet another bottle.

God-King Calypso nodded sagely, as if he had the slightest clue what Ven was talking about. He didn't. That wasn’t possible for someone who lived life moving in one direction. 

Ven's view of time was warped beyond what a human mind should be able to handle, and Troy knew there were times he couldn't. Where Eli would find him staring at nothing, muttering quietly to himself for hours as he got lost in the now and the then - stumbling through versions of reality that never happened and never would but were real in every way to his mind. He wouldn't wish that shit on anyone. He wouldn't wish it on someone he hated.

An unspoken agreement there and then, that Ven wouldn't tell, but he'd advise. He'd do his job. Troy wouldn't ask more of him. A friend shouldn't suffer to ease his nightmares.

Today was one of those days, a quick e-comm message in the early AM subtle enough for Troy to grasp without breaking their agreement.

Not today, boss. Keep them home.

So he had.

Jak-Knife's position at the head of the scheduled escort into Three Horns was cancelled, and Calypso had reissued them into training. They wouldn't question the change, they never did, and he wondered as he pulled the fur of his coat closer around his shoulders and shivered, if they knew too.

The barracks were so eerie this late into the night.

Elpis was just beginning to rise and frost still coating the grime of the Holy City like crushed diamond glinting in the flickering neon lights. It crunched under his boots as he quietly walked through the compound, breath billowing around his head in curling halos of steam that evaporated into the darkness.

All still asleep, cocooned in the Crusader barracks among clan and family. All bar God King Calypso, wrapped in a coat not thick enough to stop the bitter chill of the morning’s approach from creeping into his chest through the steel of his prosthetic's bracer.

He scuffed at a blood smear in the brick under his feet, dappled with twinkling ice.

Might be his.

He wondered if JK knew about these decisions, the unspoken agreement with Ven. They'd be angry, maybe. Was he robbing some great death in glory from them? Was he denying something sacred to Bandits that he didn't grasp right?

The same way he couldn't comprehend why there were graves of fallen Paladins so close by - lovingly tended to and decorated with trinkets they'd carried in life when he knew Bandits saw meat as only temporary and believed the soul carried on through belongings. The same way he didn't understand how a face worn as a mask could be someone else's, or a weapon scream with the war-cry of hundreds when it fired.

Did JK know what it meant when there was a sudden shift in their schedule on days they had been steeled for war?

Did they know he saw the way their shoulders would tense and nails would bite into their palm in frustration they couldn't put into words after a night of laughter and jokes with their marauders? 

Troy understood that all too well - the primal need to show you were powerful to people you knew loved you and who's words hadn't been designed to hurt, that sometimes you needed to remind the world you weren't soft in that way you worried it had begun to think you were, the bad way. That you could crunch bone and rip flesh with a body you could show gentleness with too. 

He understood that, the two sides of Jak-Knife that mirrored his own. The human and the other.

Did they know how often he let them win when he'd grapple with them in this arena on those days? Surrounded by ecstatic Crusaders lost in chants and battle cries as he'd hold back, leave openings, make mistakes, watch JK remind their warriors and themself of their physical threat as he fell, then take their offered hand when he lay panting through a bloodied split lip on that rough brick. Let them haul him to his feet with a slap of thanks to the meat of his shoulder and a distorted grunt through their mask that he knew meant so much.

He knew they let him win some days too.

On his bad days...

He sniffed, nose numb and red as the fur of his collar tickled it, shivering quietly in the thin light. Maybe that was his blood, maybe it was JK's.

Maybe really, there was no difference.

Troy breathed out a wave of foggy steam he’d not realised had been held in his lungs for so long - thinking. He needed to get back to the Cathedral, the world around him was starting to wake and he wasn't in the mood to wear his Godhood right now. He was too tired, and it was too heavy.

Not today, boss.

He turned and began to walk towards the compound gates, shifting his coat higher around his shoulders again. If Seifa was here he’d...

No. She wasn’t. Hadn’t been a long time now. Maybe Ven was still awake.

Impossible to stay cold around that man.

Ven belongs to @hieroglyphix​ , and JK to @godkingsanointed​

Asks are open!

[borderlandsthirst]

The City of the COV

The City of the COV

The Shopping District

The place to get your latest COV fashions from baggy hazard pants to freshly stitched psycho masks, you can even buy looted enemy mods for you guns and grenades here.

Fresh, recently killed Pandoran meat can also be purchased here. From skag, to spiderant, to varkid and all the other horrific things this planet has to offer. And human, and meat is the only thing anyone here eats.

You can also get more tattoos added to your body here as long as you don’t cover the symbol of the Gods.

Food, echo mods, and clothes are yours here. 

The Working District

Here is where work is done, the twins didn’t want the labor area to be in or near the Cathedral, best to keep that somewhere else where they don’t have to see it every day.

Here you’ll find the engineering department, weapon manufacturing facility, and everything else except the spa. Which is attached to the Cathedral on the lower level, Troy and Tyreen visit often. Someone fell asleep in there once.

The hospital is never full nor does it ever have many patients, if a follower is severely hurt then they are sent to the Cathedral for Tyreen to leech, no need to let good energy go to waste right?

The Holy Church

This is where the followers come to pray and give offerings, as well as where the sacrifice ceremonies, initiations and sermons take place.

The church looms over the gate leading into the city, it’s the second tallest building in the main hub of the COV. Initiations are very quick, a hot iron or lengthy tattoo across your back or chest and then you’re sent to the chapel to receive your welcome video from the twins.

Sermons are held every Sunday at six in the morning, every follower and priest is expected to attend every sermon, failure to do so results in death. Each sermon is at least three hours long.

Sacrifices are also once a week because of how extra bloody they are, depending on the mood of the twins and the angel, there might be blood all the way up to the ceiling.  

The Fun Square

This is where the twins get into trouble, bars, strip clubs, a “candy” store. This is the place Koetai probably hates the most in the city.

The Bars all carry a large variety of unique and exotic drinks from across the galaxy, drinks strong enough to knocks even Tyreen out. But the bars are just for drinking and conversations. It’s the clubs that they need supervision for.

The Backroom is the most popular of the strip clubs, plenty of exciting shows and even back room performances. Parties and even hands on activities, this place is the reason Troy and Tyreen need a “real” adult with them. Tyreen has crystalized more than a few orgies, and Troy as has woken up naked more times than he’d like to admit. Koetai has even found herself smashed between a few naked bodies, to her dismay and disgust.

These particular candy shops sell the best drugs, from pain numbing to ones that make you fly higher than Elpis. Here Troy and Tyreen go candy shopping to numb the feelings of self-loathing and depression. Koetai never buys her own, instead she settles for taking the twins supplements. Sometimes all three of them get high together and spend the whole day crying.

The Cathedral

The Cathedral is made of four floors, the spa on the first floor, the worker’s living quarters on the second floor, the saint’s and priest's room on the third floor, and the twin’s and Koetai’s room on the fourth.

The entire bottom floor is dedicated to the spa with an elevator leading to all the other floors, however each level an only be accessed by certain groups, the workers can go no higher than the worker’s quarters, the saints and priest can go no higher than they’re floor, only the twins and Koetai have access to the whole building. Each section of the spa is color coordinated. Massage rooms are green, the mud bath rooms are brown (fitting), steam bath rooms are purple. For security purposes the three highest individuals have their own special treatment rooms that come with everything the spa has to offer. Troy’s room is red, Tyreen’s is blue, and Koetai’s is orange.

The worker’s quarters are a bit compact and cramped, although the resting room is considered enormous, all the workers have to sleep in the same room in bed that are jampacked against each other with only one window. They only get five hours of sleep thirty minutes to get themselves together for the day. That means they must eat, shower, dress themselves, and do whatever else that needs to be done, in only thirty minutes. And there’s only forty or so showers with hundreds of workers.

The spa workers live in the spa in their own space so they’re always in tip top shape to massage and sere the higher ups.

The second floor is also very grimy and not well decorated or sanitized, not much thought went into the second floor because the twins don’t care about their “employees”, that get what they got and should be happy they even have a place to stay, be happy they’re even alive.

The third floor is more polished and better designed, mahogany wood floors and pearl white walls. Each saint and priest get their own room and bathroom, although they also have to share a kitchen, there are less of them and they get more time to themselves to prepare.  

There are two windows in each bedroom that allow them to see when the workers leave for their designated district. The saints are required to be their stations at least an hour after the workers are scheduled to leave. The priest must leave sooner to prepare the church for the offerings and prayers of the followers.

The fourth and final floor is home to the sirens, from the elevator is the large chill room known as The Lounge. On the left wall is a huge flat screen Tv built into the wall with games and a few gaming systems below it, on the right side is three big couches each positioned inward to face the Tv, and a big coffee table in the middle. Pass the Lounge is the kitchen with motion censored equipment. The twins buy so much high cooking utensils that the wide counter space really is necessary. They also have a big kitchen island for eating.

From the kitchen there are three hallways, each hall way leads to a different siren’s room with a bathroom connected.

Tyreen’s room is decorated with many shiny objects, her walls are covered in smoothed gem pieces, her carpet is made out of Bullymong fur, her bed is up against the corner opposite of her door and the corner across from her bed is her vanity. The down a few feet from where her bed is is the closet that opens with button switch on the wall, further down on the other side of the room is her painting area, there are four room length shelves holding her smaller paintings while the bigger ones sit on the floor.

Tyreen’s bathroom is filled with so many soaps and shampoos and bath salts. She likes smelling clean and fruity. Her tub is bigger than it needs to bed, Tyreen is the smallest of the three sirens but she has the second biggest tub on the top floor. And a jacuzzi, and a two-person shower.

Troy’s room the opposite of Tyreen’s, his room is brighter and full of rock like textures, his walls are made of asphalt, his ceiling is blood red, he has an in-floor pit bed, his fur carpet is made of something he’s never heard of before, but apparently he’s not allergic so that’s what really matters. On the left side of his room is his project station where he makes more little bots that Tyreen complains are too many of. The other side of his room is his workout spot, sometime he does his exercises in the lounge, but most of the time it’s in his own room. He has a closet that extends outwards so he doesn’t have to try and maneuver in a tight space.

His bathroom has a karaoke machine in it so he can lose track of time, his tub is big enough for him to submerge his whole body in. Lots of scrubs and essential oils to calm and relax himself. Sometimes Tyreen or Koetai has to check on him because he falls asleep in his tub.

Koetai’s room is decorated with a bunch of junk she grabs from every camp she helps raid, broken chest locks, guns and shields, even skulls of creatures she’s never seen. Her bed is in the middle of the back wall surrounded by handcrafted plushies that look like nightmares, but they make her more comfortable. Unlike Troy and Tyreen who have a theme with their rooms, Koetai does not, she likes plushies, broken items, orange and purple and blue and red and black. She likes trying to create things and whatever the twins like. She never really got a chance to develop her own personality.

Her closet is also an extending one like Troy’s, most of her clothes were designed by Tyreen, but sides her stuffed demons and bed, there isn’t much to Koetai’s room. (which will change over time)

Her bathroom on the other hand, is a quiet place for her to bath and think, or try to, her tub is really a three-person tub, but three people will never get in there at the same time. Her shower can fit plenty of people, but it will only ever be her in there. She has a three-person sink, but it’s just here in there. She doesn’t know which part of her living space makes her feel worse. 

I know everybody is calling their COV layout the City, but I didn’t know what else to call it. XD

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Acceptance

This was a commission for some sweet sweet mpreg omega!jack and Rhys’ own personal interest in how much he loves Jack regardless of how he looks or how his body has changed ♡ ♡ ♡ Jack can’t resist his leggy stringbean alpha no matter how he tries (●♡∀♡)

Also on my ao3 here. My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

--

“And just where. Are. The targets?!” Jack growled into his echo device, pausing with screwdriver in hand at the shock baton he had laid out in bits and pieces on his desk. His attention was divided between the delicate machinery and the call. Jack’s brow twitched as he set the screwdriver down, a snarl starting to lift his lip.

Rhys grinned as he watched the omega CEO’s demeanor shift as the older man’s attention was now completely focused on the voice of the head science officer reporting in from down on Pandora. Any second now, Jack was going to threaten to come down there himself, and Rhys waited for it with interest, grinning to himself in picturing the gravid omega CEO waddling down there with fury in his eyes and a gun in his hand. It shouldn’t be such an attractive idea, but Rhys loved it.

He liked watching Jack work, and just because they were mated and bonded now didn’t mean his hero-worship was any less diminished. The fact that the older man was pleasantly plump with the stringbean alpha’s pup was hardly a deterrent for his rage at the incompetence on the other end of the call, and the younger man knew the job would either get done correctly, or Jack would take matters into his own hands. And with the way the older man’s moods swung with whatever influx of hormones from the day, it would be a very messy affair indeed.

Rhys supposed that that should concern him-- that his violent mate wouldn’t let a little thing like pregnancy stop him from potentially strangling someone- but Jack was overprotective of his own belly more than even Rhys was, and the lithe alpha was only turned on by the omega CEO’s threats as Jack’s voice lost its patience.

“No, I don’t give a crap about the planet’s stupid ecosystem-- Do you have any idea what those genetically-enhanced skags cost?!”

Jack put the screwdriver down, took off the glasses he’d been wearing for the work he’d been doing, and leaned back in his big yellow chair to twirl the lenses by the temple tips a moment. He then abandoned them to the desk to rest his hand on his belly, petting it absentmindedly while he calmly spoke violence into the comm. No doubt soothing their pup that tended to be more active with Jack’s violent moods.

Rhys bit his lip from where he’d been observing Jack from the office couch, a desire rising in him to place his own hands on the omega CEO’s belly, feel their pup energized by Jack’s own mood; to scent his angry mate to calm him from what would soon be a personalized murder if things down on Pandora went any worse; to drag his nose up the older man’s throat to indulge in his altered scent: pregnant angry-omega. It was the best.

Rhys only felt a little bad to be so aroused over how dangerous his mate still was, Jack acting like nothing about him had changed, gun strapped to his thigh even if his gait was now more or less a waddle that Rhys loved but knew better than mentioning. Jack was… sensitive to the way his body was changing, and though Rhys was absolutely in love with the older man and all the ways he grew with their pup, he could feel how wound up Jack was.

Rhys swore the older man was going to give him whiplash with how fast his moods changed-- even before they had a pup on the way- and now the feelings from the omega CEO were only amplified. It was a balancing act Rhys was used to: enjoying the way the older man’s anatomy changed without specifically mentioning Jack’s endotype.

The younger man considered himself pretty observant of when Jack might be in a mood, but maybe he just picked up on it more as some sort of alpha-instinct to better serve his pregnant mate. He didn’t know for certain, and he supposed it didn’t matter in the end. Jack was… a lot more demonstrative in what he was feeling lately, anyways, bond or no bond. And the threat the older man growled into the comm was motivation enough for Rhys to go to the older man, imagining Jack would welcome his hands on him as much as Rhys was itching to touch his mate; maybe get him off to take the edge off.

Rhys stood from the couch, a grin he couldn’t entirely suppress as his movement momentarily caught Jack’s eye, but the omega CEO turned right back to business at hand, purposely ignoring him. “You’ve got loaders to deal with the acid, numb nuts. ...Just who is paying who here? ...Yeah look, that was funny, but--”

Jack looked up as Rhys was approaching his desk, the gorgeous young alpha spouting a smirk that Jack knew all too well. Instead of grinning though, the omega CEO frowned, but he didn’t deter Rhys as he gently touched Jack’s shoulder before drawing fingertips down the older man’s arm in what was a clear attempt at seduction. When Rhys got to his knees next to Jack’s chair, flesh hand on his thigh, the older man’s brows furrowed even if he’d gotten his attention. “I’m working, baby.”

“I know.” Rhys could hear the confusion of the voice on the comm as Jack returned his attention there, jealously pouting as Jack’s gaze on him was removed to yell at the idiot on the call again. Rhys insinuated himself between Jack’s legs, moving his big yellow chair just slightly back while Jack watched him but didn’t stop him. Rhys moved flesh and cybernetic hands both over his mate’s belly as he sat before him on his knees, something inside of him thrilling and spiking with an emotion he knew all too well as he pet over where their pup grew.

Rhys turned his gaze back up to Jack, noticing he’d gotten the older man’s attention once more, and smirked before nuzzling his belly and drawing his hands over his sides, down to his hips, and attempted to maneuver between the gravid omega’s form and his chair to squeeze his ass.

Jack raised a brow and smirked before speaking into the comm with a snarl, something about the idiot on the other end needing to do his job or he’d regret it, and then he ended the call before tossing the device back on his desk.

The grin on Rhys’ face was completely unrepentant as he’d succeeded in getting the omega CEO’s undivided attention, and Jack gave him a look like he wasn’t entirely interested, but appreciated the thought and the touches to his belly all the same.

“Really, Rhysie? I’m seven months in with your leggy-ass pup and at work makin’ dough for this family, and you wanna bang?”

The grin on Rhys’ face was something he would never apologize for, rubbing his face into Jack’s belly with pleasure for the words, half-groaning, half-murmuring a thick affirmative. He liked it when Jack talked like this; liked when he acknowledged he was carrying Rhys’ pup. Their family. Was it weird for it to be a turn-on? Rhys wasn’t sure, and he also didn’t care. Any alpha would be damn lucky to be in his place and he knew it. “Yes. Hell yes, Jack. I love watching you work.” He looked up at the older man then, mouth and nose pressed snug into the softness of the material stretched over their offspring as he kind of hugged and groped the omega CEO. Jack looked and smelled wonderful with their kid on him, as vicious as any Stalker with its brood, and it turned Rhys on like crazy. “What do you say to a blowjob, handsome?”

“Rhysie, what part about being bigger than Elpis didn’t you understand? I’m huge and busy.”

Rhys could hear the things Jack was saying beneath it all: he didn’t like the changes to his body, a constant reminder of his endotype. He felt unattractive-- him, Handsome Jack- successfully running an empire and growing a pup and not understanding just how attractive that really was to the alpha between his legs. His tone was testy, and Rhys could feel a sudden dip in Jack’s mood where there’d been the thrum of bloodlust bordering on arousal before. He might’ve been interested, but self-image was a hell of a thing. Jack’s large palm pat at his belly pointedly, as if the matter was closed.

Jack liked the idea of children, and he also liked the way Rhys would kiss over his belly in the privacy of their bedroom. But Rhys had noticed the way Jack’s admiring-looks at his own posters had taken on a scornful edge; how he made excuses not to see Tim when the double came for his post-mission reports; how his self-aggrandizing speeches tended to feel a bit forced lately, his hand resting absentmindedly on his swollen belly as if his thoughts were elsewhere during meetings.

Jack liked the idea of creating life as much as he did snuffing it out, but the hit his self-image took when he caught sight of himself in the mirror warred with the idea he’d cultivated through a heavy mix of self-denial and propaganda; Handsome Jack might be an omega, but he had more heart, spirit, and balls than any alpha out there, and he’d proven himself day-in and day-out that his endotype didn’t define him. He conducted himself the same way as any self-important alpha might, and it was easy to forget he wasn’t one when he was already Hyperion’s own king, stalking the halls with the self-appointed authority of a god. His ego knew no match.

But there was no denying his endotype even to his subconscious as he grew larger. And while the CEO already loved the pup they were both eager to meet, he hated the way his body reflected his nature, and sometimes that resulted in pushing the younger man away.

Like he was attempting to do right now.

Rhys raised his head a bit so his chin rested on the omega CEO’s belly, his own expression tempered into something softer as he looked up at the older man with endless affection. “You know I love you like this, right, Jack? Handsome and dangerous and smelling like us.”

Jack snorted but reached a large hand down to cup Rhys’ cheek affectionately, stroking down his jaw with his thumb. “You’re real cute pumpkin, but the king has a kingdom to run. Scoot.”

Rhys pouted at the clear brush-off, especially when Jack toed him out of the way to move closer to his desk. He could scent the interest on the older man-- Jack’s sexual appetite was ravenous and he wasn’t fooling anyone acting otherwise- but the omega CEO stubbornly set back to working on the machinery before him, glasses and screwdriver ready as he ignored his lanky mate.

Rhys stood up, but didn’t go anywhere, stubborn himself as he bent to touch his forehead just above Jack’s ear. “Jack… C’mon… You’ve been working hard all afternoon...” he purred into his ear as the older man resolutely ignored him, cocking his head the other way so Rhys lost contact. It was a dirty tactic the lithe alpha took advantage of, and Rhys stuck his face into the omega CEO’s neck, scenting him and drawing his nose along the skin there before pressing a licking kiss to Jack’s pulse that the older man hummed over. “An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away. Jack.”

Jack snorted and turned away from the wires to look at the younger man. Rhys grinned and quickly stole a kiss, his lips landing less than perfectly on the older man’s own, but it got a smirk out of the CEO anyways. “Persistent, huh?”

“When it comes to you? Yes,” Rhys practically purred, crowding his space properly as Jack brought an arm around the younger man with a sort of comfort Rhys thrilled to. Jack might not be able to pull him into his lap properly anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hold the younger man close. Rhys had a palm on Jack’s belly, the other at the back of the older man’s neck where Rhys’ teeth had left a mark that bonded them as mates. His touch there got a self-satisfied smirk from Jack. No matter how much he railed against his own nature, Jack loved it when Rhys touched him there. Right now was no different.

Rhys gently touched their foreheads together, properly this time so he could also touch Jack’s nose with his own. He gave the older man a smile. “You know I’m obsessed with you, right? You could never not be perfect.”

“Hell yeah I am, you creepy little fanboy.” The admonishment was said with warmth and love Rhys could feel through the bond, and Jack kissed him with renewed interest at the younger man’s offer. He hummed at the light moan Rhys gave as he slipped him a teasing amount of tongue, and grinned at the look of clear-arousal on the lithe alpha’s face. “I know that mouth of yours was made for suckin’ dick, buttercup, but I have a meeting in like, ten minutes.”

It might’ve been meant as a half-hearted deterrent, but Rhys was anything but. His hands were touching Jack everywhere he could get away with, taking advantage of the fact that he knew very-well how turned on the older man was, and that a meeting would have zero effect on that. Hell, it might amp things up, even, going by the scent of the omega CEO’s arousal. “Well it’s not like they’re gonna come around to this side of your desk, right Jack?”

Jack’s brows raised, inwardly pleased his pretty mate had a sexual appetite to match his own, and further pleased that he couldn’t be put-off no matter how Jack kept rebuffing him. It suddenly mattered very little how very large Jack was with their pup; Rhys wanted him for him, willing to get on his knees in more than one way for the older man, and it wasn’t like he could easily reach his own dick to do this anyway. That was probably Jack’s least favorite part of this whole omega-pregnancy. “Fuck, okay, under the desk, sugar. Better make it worth it,” he teased, already sporting the beginnings of a half-chub beneath the expanse of his middle.

Rhys scrambled with way less dignity than he cared, ignoring Jack’s amused chuckles as the lanky alpha urged him to stand up so Rhys could get his pants off. The younger man rubbed his face against his mate’s belly and curled his hands around the back of Jack’s thighs, words spilling from his lips about how good Jack smelled and how he was terrifying sometimes and how it all turned Rhys on, and the omega CEO ran his hand through Rhys’ hair a few times before telling him to get to work.

Rhys fondled the older man while pressing kisses to his belly while Jack would allow him to expose that part of himself in the office where there were no mirrors. He loved Jack like this: waiting to be serviced by his mate; praising the younger man’s mouth and entwining their fingers together on his thigh; the crass, pleased words that followed words of love as Jack praised Rhys’ skills, the lanky alpha having no trouble despite all Jack’s complaints about being larger than Helios itself.

The words might’ve stopped when the scientists he was expecting for the problem down on Pandora showed up, but the feelings through their bond kept pouring on through as loud and bold as ever as Rhys teased and pleased him.

Jack didn’t bother telling him the meeting was for a whole hour, and that Rhys would be stuck under there even after Jack finished; his own fault for pursuing the issue so hard. Rhys didn’t even act like he noticed, of course, using the hour to keep his mate satisfied in-between lavishing attention on the older man’s belly.

The warmth through their bond told him plenty about how that made Jack feel.

All of the scientists survived the meeting with Jack, and the shit-eating grin Rhys gave him once they were gone only disappeared from his face when Jack dragged him up for a leisurely kiss he heartily returned.

–

kofi | ao3

[starttheanarchy]

@thehandsomeasshole from x

Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. “Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess.” He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack’s body to unpack all of that right now.

“Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there’s not really anything anyone can do to stop it.” Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, “You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did.”

“Nah, you’re right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I’ll get back to you, I’ll think of something real good.” he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued.

“You sure as hell act like ‘em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I’ll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there’d be two hundred more. Let’s just focus on people. Maybe you’re not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it’s also correct. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

“The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I’ve only met two people who were truly selfless.” One’s dead and the other’s… worse. “But, you do realise that if it wasn’t me up here, it’d just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they’re big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets’ freedoms and peace.”

“Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else.” The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, “Kid, it’s nothin’ I haven’t heard before. You really think I’m gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do.”

Jack’s brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn’t care, he’d just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.

He decided not to express his shock.

“So, I’d been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-… A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit.”

“The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn’t discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they’d gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn’t even have a real military then, for God’s sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren’t weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren’t made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes.”

“I managed to get the vault hunter’s I’d hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you’ve met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-” Shit. He hadn’t actually thought about Janey in a while. He’d ask Athena how they were both doing, but she’d probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. “-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn’t work Helios’s defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no.”

“They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would.”

“I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn’t want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could’ve saved Pandora, you know. It could’ve- The blasts were so concentrated we could’ve wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would’ve barely felt the ground tremble. I’d worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-… Sorry. Off topic. Uh…”

He made a small noise, “Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn’t have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn’t.”

“But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff.”

“So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-…” Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, “And I saw… everything.”

He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn’t stop soon he’d fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.

“Wasn’t long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad.”

He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, “So, there’s my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?” Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.

A rumbling high pitched cry of a living creature, the soft hum of a laser heating up. Before the spiderant can fully leave the ground in its attempt to launch itself at the red head, a quick shot from the head of DT turns it into ash. Moments later the large floating torso of a robot moves its way over to where the rest of the spiderants are and begins clearing the area with ease. "To be fair DT is a floating robot, I should get props for him being able to lift anything over a tonne at all." Is all she can say as she watches her creation be used not exactly for what she had originally intended.

A noise of agreement left her as she nodded her head, this was a mess that she was playing catch up on. Every step revealed a new and sometimes old issues or problems, and untold horrors that would explain some of the residents insanity.

"Oh so what am I suppose to not fight back and die? Self-defense is a thing." She keeps her lips tight on the actual number of people, she knows it is higher then she ever wanted.

Another reason to the countless hours she was stuck away while the others rested. But that is a mental spiral that no one has seen yet even herself, and Gaige wasn't going to break that record.

"Do you realize that it doesn't matter who, I would still be here. I would cause just as much chaos even if it was Maliwan or Torgue, the company doesn't matter, it is the enormity of the actions that are taking place that I have a grievance against. So once I am done with this, I got a whole check list to work through."

A small tsk as her eyes roll once more, she could already feel the odd ache from rolling them too often. But to want the title of tyrant why trying to claim being a hero? And he was calling her a hypocrite, the gall. But then there is silence after her offer. It is enough to get her to move forwards, the area now clear of deadly wildlife, and to sit down on top one of the ridges. And she could hear him begin in her ear, truly starting fro the beginning.

Her hand goes to her vault buckle, slipping it off and clicking it open to show a hidden system of her own design. A small holoscreen flickered to life above it and she began to take notes, to be able to keep her questions to herself and not interrupt. But before she could really take much, she had to slowly turn her eyes back to that giant floating H as he began to talk about the first real blood shed the station ever saw. No one deserved that kind of fate, let alone those who can't even fight back. And she could understand why loaders were used for what they are, even if there had been enough time to design something new.

Through out the whole story she let out the occasional hum or tsk in reaction, but also to let the man on the other side of the echo understand she was still listening.

A mechanic on Concordia? Something to ask others later on, there couldn't be many considering the lack of them on Pandora. As well as to ask on the reason why for the initial no considering at that point the vault hunters as far as she was aware had no issues with Hyperion, let alone Jack.

And she was torn on the laser because she could understand the pain of such handwork just ripped away. And she had a vague idea on how challenging it was with the laser that rested inside DT's head. But at the same time, she would never want anyone to have a laser of that magnitude considering if it could do that to a bandit settlement. Well it would only be a few tweaks away from being able to glass planets.

She paused in her notes when he mentioned seeing everything, it was hard to believe but there was something in his voice that made her believe he certainly saw something he shouldn't have. Gaige was going to have to go back onto that one on a different day since she could tell that right now was a horrible time to do so. And even as he talked about what Lilith did and the reason why he wore a mask, she could head just how this was not the cocky Jack from earlier.

This was a person who was done but still going. Something that it seemed being near Pandora did to people.

"Well I would say quit your day job regardless and stop all this without anymore murder. But we both know we are too far in to be willing to stop." A small click as she closed the cover on the buckle to once more hide away her person little holounit that stored information that she kept only for herself. The notes saved for review for another day. "I do have questions, but you sound..... Rough. Would you rather a topic change? Or just end this call? I do have things to do, and I'm sure you have plenty of ill placed paper work to finish."

[thehandsomeasshole]

@starttheanarchy from X

"Then why use them for a job they are not meant for, just keep them to their original purpose and make something new that works for what you need. And because quality work will save in the long term with less repairs, replacements, and malfunctions over all. And your welcome." The wide grin could be heard in her last three words. She was raised to have some manners after all. "And DT could probably do it as long as the load weight isn't over hmmm..." She drifts off as fingers tap together, mental math being calculated. "Eight tonne? Maybe less. I'm not exactly sure on that front since I actually haven't tested his limits on that front. Hmm something to test another day." Her eyes drifted over the floating form of her robot as it stayed ever vigilant of her surroundings. She knew it could do some heavy lifting since she had used previous versions to move things in the junk yard.

Eyes roll at yet another reason on why to avoid corporations, and another as he seems to enjoy being a pest.

"Actually last thing I did was fix up several things that were in disrepair in Overlook, since too much of the population of that poor town have the skull-shivers and had no access to the medicine. Something about repair tickets being ignored or something like that. And I didn't come here for the shallow reason of becoming rich, I'm opening the vault to try and prevent a very clearly corrupt corporation from monopolization on something that might be a blessing or a curse." If she had it her way, she would keep it locked forever since no one has a full understanding of the capabilities and issues of Eridium that began to spawn after the first one opened. To many variables and yet everyone wanting to just add more into the chaos.

"Yes, yes. The definition fits, but you seem to think I am on the same level of depravity like the Fleshrippers or the Bloodshots. To which all I can say is, rude and incorrect. And princess? Really?" That got her to shoot a glare back at the space station.

"Not everyone. Yes there are people who still deserve a chance to be treated like a decent human because they are. But you seem to be hard at work for making it so those people are just as dead as the rest. And you are right, no one has used an army of robots to lay siege on a planet in the name of their own ideals. They used armies of people, and all of them were considered like a plague upon humanity in the context of history. Dictators, tyrants, oppressors, authoritarians, monsters. Wonder how will you be written down."

At the laughter, and how it grew as she talked about what started this whole hot mess off for her on planet side, it made her skin itch with irritation. Out of everything on this fucking disaster hellscape, it was Hyperion that tried to kill her first. Sure others might have had to deal with bandits at other stops, but she went from off the inter-space shuttle to the train with no issues.

It was fair to say Jack was the first person to try to actually kill her. Even when escaping Eden-5 they were aiming for capture to make her life a living hell instead of a death sentience. It was one of the reasons she was trying so damn hard to keep surviving at this point, out of spite for the asshole who tried to kill them after using some shitty signs to inform them of their supposed doom.

Hands were clenched into fists and she could feel a chill roll through her body. It was like the ice never left at times.

A deep breath as she turns her face to the sun that burns the landscape, she is fine and alive. And she isn't going to follow his script and get pissed. She isn't going to scream like everyone else on this planet. The Mechromancer is going to do what she always does, go against what is expected.

"How about you tell me something else instead. You worked with the Crimson Raiders? What happened? What is the full story, from beginning to end?" Her voice is calm and even, one that seems to hold no judgment and wanting to listen. And she does, after all there isn't much information on the group. Gaige had no plans to jump ship, but she honestly had as much trust for them as she did for most anyone on this planet that wasn't shooting at her. Eden-5 taught her that the only person she could ever trust was her father and the friends she created with her own two hands.

"No bullshit, no propaganda. Just your side of the story. I have time."

Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. "Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess." He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack's body to unpack all of that right now.

"Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there's not really anything anyone can do to stop it." Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, "You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did."

"Nah, you're right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I'll get back to you, I'll think of something real good." he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued. 

"You sure as hell act like 'em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I'll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there'd be two hundred more. Let's just focus on people. Maybe you're not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it's also correct. You just don't wanna admit it."

"The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I've only met two people who were truly selfless." One's dead and the other’s… worse. "But, you do realise that if it wasn't me up here, it'd just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they're big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets' freedoms and peace."

"Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else." The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, "Kid, it's nothin' I haven't heard before. You really think I'm gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do."

Jack's brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn't care, he'd just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.

He decided not to express his shock.

"So, I'd been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-... A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit."

"The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn't discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they'd gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn't even have a real military then, for God's sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren't weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren't made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes."

"I managed to get the vault hunter's I'd hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you've met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-" Shit. He hadn't actually thought about Janey in a while. He'd ask Athena how they were both doing, but she'd probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. "-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn't work Helios's defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no."

"They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would."

"I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn't want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could've saved Pandora, you know. It could've- The blasts were so concentrated we could've wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would've barely felt the ground tremble. I'd worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-... Sorry. Off topic. Uh…"

He made a small noise, "Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn't have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn't."

"But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff."

"So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-..." Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, "And I saw… everything."

He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn't stop soon he'd fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.

"Wasn't long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad."

He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, "So, there's my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?" Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.

[morewritingforourcharacters]

Two months lata

After two months of living as steward and steward’s wife, they had found a good rhythm. Lander would wake up first, always at some unholy hour. He didn’t get much sleep anymore, not since they’d learned that Queen Harper was plotting her return. He tossed and turned most of the night, sometimes waking up Maudine and sometimes getting pushed off the bed because of it. When that happened, he’d climb back in and hit her hard with his pillow. Then Maudine would shoot straight up in bed with angry eyes and crazy spaghetti hair. But if Maudine were to hit Lander back, Lander would call the guards on her, and neither of them would get enough sleep. So she’d wait for morning to spit in his tea.

But when Lander decided to get up and get ready, Maudine would stretch all the way out on their shared bed and listen to him pitter patter around the room for a while. There was talk of bringing a second bed into the room, secretly. But since their worthiness as rulers was already in question, nothing could be spared to keep up appearances. So it couldn’t be risked yet. Lander was at the point where he was considering getting a lapdog just to have a cage for Maudine to sleep in. He’d even spoken with the royal furnishers about designing a dog cage with pink and red bows, and a velvety dog bed. Once he’d even caught himself fantasizing about convincing Maudine that there were more perks to pretending to be his pet than pretending to be his wife.

This morning, Lander sorted through the official mail, grumbling as he flipped through several orders sent by council members. He’d been groomed for this position from boyhood, and thought he played his role well. But lately the council was tightening their grip about Lander’s throat. It seemed that if Lander so much as blinked wrong, he had to be called into a council meeting for reprimands. There was a tension among them with the prospect of Queen Harper’s return to claim her “rightful” place. If it was true, they didn’t know in what manner she’d be returning. She might march in with the Miger people on her left and the Termellow military on her right. Or she might be more quiet about it and send a man from the Kingsguard to kill their mascot, as they had tried to do to her. If only they could figure out where she was hiding, but it had proved an impossible task. They only heard news through whispers and snippets of intercepted transmissions.

A clean white envelope stuck out among the others, and Lander sliced it open and gutted its insides. It contained the results of his popularity poll, as administered by the council. They thought it would help to know where he stood with the people. Lander scanned it quickly and his fresh face went sour. It appeared his subjects did not have a high opinion of him , but even worse-

“Maudine,” he hissed. She blinked at him sleepily and smiled. “Public opinion hates you. I told you that you open your eyes too widely, they look like they’ve been taped open. Why do you insist on terrifying people wherever you go?”

She was still smiling, which made him even angrier. “That look there, that’s why! Wipe that smile from your face, you hideous clown. Are you even listening to me? Have you heard a word I said? Are you dead? You look like you’ve perished, what an awful fate, to be buried with such a vapid expression.”

Her vapid expression did not change, not a single conscious thought seemed to pass through her. “My lord, are you really dead?”

He reached out with his walking staff and prodded her side, and only then did she start laughing. Lander stood up abruptly and went to wash his face.

“Oh yes, the height of humor, master of comedy. You sicken me.”

Maudine slid from the bed and followed him into the bathroom. Neither looked at each other, Lander swished water in his mouth and Maudine started pulling out lipsticks and mascara.

“You poked me really hard,” she pouted.

“Shush, give me some peace this morning.”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

“I never-“ Lander stopped and glared at her for the absurdity of her question. He wasn’t going to play into this, whenever she started spouting nonsense she was just trying to get something out of him. Maudine leaned over the sink, her nose nearly touching the glass to put on her makeup. He glared harder as he watched her apply mascara with her eyes as wide as saucers. It was so disgustingly obvious why the popularity poll was at an all time low.

“We can rekindle that old flame we had two months ago, let’s run away together, Lander.”

“No.”

But the genuine tone of her voice did give him pause. He didn’t care about her feelings, not even a little, but sometimes he couldn’t tell if Maudine was truly invested in this marriage or if it was all part of her trickery. Sometimes he got the feeling that she wanted him to care, though he couldn’t fathom why. Some womanly weakness, probably. Maudine clipped her mascara closed and put everything back in the drawer. She left and Lander let out a sigh, relieved until she came back only a moment later.

“Fine, if you’re going to stay then you’ll need your laser-proof vest.”

For this, Lander actually relented. He put his hands out and Maudine slipped the tightly woven fabric over him. Her arms slid around his waist as she did the clasps. Lander glanced at the two of them in the mirror, thinking it was rather a pity he didn’t care for her. Maudine looked in the mirror too. Then she gave Lander an extra nuzzle, because his time in this world was probably about up.

They were always followed by two guards, wherever they went. Often the guards were faces they hadn’t seen before, since everyone had been replaced after the incident with the rogue who whisked off with the queen. Maudine walked briskly at Lander’s heel until they stopped in front of the Council’s conference room. Inside, Mr. Proteus was waiting at the center of the long table, and the two Agnes’ were seated on his right, Mr. Agnes being the closest, and both of them arguing quietly about who would sit get to sit next to Byron Proteus at the next meeting.

There were little dishes with galactic cheese and fine crackers placed at intervals along the table setting. The royal couple took their seats on the other side of their families in a way that was almost graceful. But then Maudine made a point of brushing some strands of hair behind Lander’s ear and he swatted her hand away.

“Lander,” Mr. Proteus snapped with a chastising tone. Lander looked at him with a hurt face, wanting to say something but thinking better of it. Mr. and Mrs. Agnes were both looking at their son-in-law, smiling from ear to ear. After that, several other council members filtered into the room, and Mr. Proteus commenced his opening statement.

“Welcome, fellow men and women of the venerable council. Take a seat, enjoy the refreshments. The servants are at your disposal if you should require anything more. Now, you all must know why I called this meeting this morning.”

“The results of the poll, I expect,” Lander cut in, his expression morose. Mr. Proteus remained in his calm and dignified pose, but his eyes darted to Lander lightening quick.

“No, I haven’t seen them. Did we meet expectations?” At once, Lander realized his mistake. Maudine hummed and looked around.

“Ah, modest..expectations, father.”

Bryon Proteus, whom nothing got past, knew what this meant. He also knew the right time to bring up a matter, and so brushed past this one.

“We must address the possibility of Queen Harper’s return. As you know, there has been talk that the rebel faction has prepared a violent attack with Harper at the lead. I believe our best defense relies on the loyalty of our subjects. Let them toss her back out before she even arrives to the palace.”

Turning the people against Harper was not out of the realm of possibility. Those living on the Alpha planet had reason to be pleased with their new government. Elpis was bringing in a surplus of resources from worker planets. Living wages were steadily increasing, and many of the minor planet rebellions were already squashed. From the vantage point of the Alpha planet, peace was on the horizon.

“So I’d like to open this up to you,” Byron continued, “Do I hear any suggestions from my illustrious peers?”

“We can start a propaganda campaign, spread messages that subtly chip away at her reputation.” Someone else immediately followed up on this:

“Lightbringers kept us in darkness.”

Mr. Agnes, the note taker, jotted the idea down quickly, and Mrs. Agnes snapped her fingers for one of the servant boys. A very nervous looking man hurried over to her, a tray and a towel in his hands.

“Aloysius,” she said, “Bring me some strong liqueur. I think better when I have some strong liqueur.”

“As..as..as..as you wish..” he gulped down and scurried off to fulfill her request. It took only a moment for him to return, and by then Byron had turned over this idea and decided it wasn’t what they needed. He looked back to his son; the news of the poll on his mind.

“Perhaps our solution lies not in tearing down, but in building up. The people must love you more than they once believed they loved Harper. You need good publicity.”

“What about an official portrait, father?” He was long overdue for one, after all. But before anyone had the chance to respond, the small, sad voice of Aloysius spoke up.

“May I make a suggestion?” he asked.

“That depends,” answered Lander, his lip curling, “Does your suggestion include assassinating Harper two months ago?”

Maudine nodded. Of course, that is to say, she hadn’t stopped nodding since the meeting began. Lander glanced at her and put his hand on her head to cease the incessant bobbing, and it did the trick. His comment had elicited a few chuckles from the council members plus Aloysius retreated to the shadows, and that was enough to settle the old feelings of hatred that had gurgled back up like acid in Lander’s throat. He was rather witty, he thought to himself, and thought these meetings suffered without him taking the lead. He was the steward of a galactic empire, and yet he didn’t feel he was entrusted with the power that would normally come with his title.

The doors, discreetly shut and locked, resonated with knocking. There were three light raps, a pause, two more, then another pause, and one final knock, so everyone knew it was Commander Gen Ippo outside- undoubtedly waiting in polite and formal stance. Byron nodded to Aloysius and Aloysius opened the door to the man, inviting him inside.

“I must respectfully decline” he replied, “I simply came to say that one of my steward’s subjects requests his presence in the throne room. My steward asked that I inform him immediately when he was wanted?” He always called Lander my steward with such emphasis that it was hard to know if he was being sarcastic or especially respectful.

“I did, thank you Commander Ippo. I think you’ll find that there is no better way to win favor with your kingdom than to be always at the ready.”

It was obvious that Lander was pleased with himself, from the way he pushed out his chair and folded his hands behind his back, taking long and graceful strides from the room for everyone to admire.  His original policy was to throw all his subjects out. But desperate times called for desperate measures, so now he welcomed everyone who wanted to speak with him. Maudine sighed and followed behind.

There were glossy transparent curtains that opened up onto the throne, and Lander tossed them aside with style and abandon. He sat in his great chair by crossing one leg over the other. When Lander gave his signal, the citizen was allowed into the room.

Lander’s knuckles went white as he gripped his chair. It was HARPER. She wore a tattered brown cloak and hood that obscured her face, but he knew it from the way she walked. The Lightbringer family all walked that way. Lander looked about him quickly, scrambling up in his chair, nearly frothing in his fury. He half expected an ambush. Had that Aloysius known all along? Ippo? The Guards? Traitors, all of them. The woman came forward, skipped forward actually, and threw off her great big hood, and then he saw that it was not Harper at all. It was that smaller one: the unimportant sister. So that was why she looked shorter than he remembered. He hadn’t thought anything of it, since he’d raised his throne on such a high platform that everything appeared small to him. But back to the point- why was she here? She looked like she was in some kind of frenzy.

“Lander, I had to come back to you!” she cried.

Now Maudine was the one fearing an overthrow.

“Get that girl out of here,” she ordered loudly and suddenly. Then, staking her claim on Lander, Maudine leaned over to kiss him, which he evaded several times, so she had to track his swerving face until she finally caught him. Unfortunately for all parties, Lee saw this and shrieked. The sound echoed through the hall, followed by the thump of her hitting the ground and bursting into tears, and shredding a paper upon which she’d scrawled her declarations of love. The pieces caught a breeze from the window and fluttered away in the most heartwrenching scene. Then-

“AUREILEE!” Another woman in the same exact disguise came running down the carpet, throwing off her hood in the same way. Except this time it really was Harper. She’d secretly chased her wayward sister back to Elpis, hoping to save her before it was too late. Lander gasped, his heart skipping its beat.

“Guards!” he called.

“Harper!” It was Caspen, throwing off his brown hood. He’d found out about Harper’s plan to chase Aureilee, and chased after Harper.

Maudine did nothing. She was just wondering what would happen next.  Caspen skid over the floor, demanding that Harper haul back her sorry behind. Although where she was supposed to haul it to, it was hard to say. The guards finally stopped being stunned at the new arrivals and took action. Several of them converged, weapons drawn, and wrestled Caspen to the ground. But then suddenly, the tides turned again. A second pair of guards attacked their own kind, freeing Caspen from their grasp, with the queen and Lee in tow. As they would later learn-  Eithna and Ferrand had arranged a rescue mission as soon as they’d realized Caspen had gone chasing after the queen. The loyalist guards were planted there that morning. Only Arcadius had noted how ridiculous this all was.

“Eat sparks!” said Caspen as he was being dragged away by his rescuers. He’d pulled out his gun.

“What is going on?” Lander shouted, pretty confused considering the whirlwind of emotions he’d just witnessed. Nor was it over. In the next second he flew back against his chair from the force of Caspen’s shot. It felt like he was always getting shot. Maybe he was. A daze came over him.

Finally, there was silence.

Why did his ambitions amount to nothing? He had every advantage in the galaxy. He pulled the right strings, didn’t he? And then these rebel criminals came along and humiliated him in one deft stroke. Lander was aware he was on the floor. The ceiling above him was white and heavenly and welcoming. Then Maudine popped into view.

“I don’t want thanks for this, let’s all just praise the miracle of a wife’s intuition. I’m glad I have it.”

Lander’s eyeballs, which had been sliding back into his head, rolled back into place.

“What?”

“You’d be dead if I hadn’t made you wear that vest.”

“Oh…” He groaned, suddenly feeling a lot less mortally wounded than he was a moment ago. He pulled himself up with a little assistance from Maudine and she tucked some strands of hair behind his ear.

“I still feel awful, and that buffoon from the Kingsguard got away with Harper. What does your intuition say to that?”

“We need to take some time off.”

Ugh, this again. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Yes…” Lander submitted, “I suppose we do.”

[scholarlypidgeot]

Forgive me, but I need to know something...how would you write Atlantia maybe with the song prompt "Writing's on the Wall" by Sam Smith

Cool, so this is a new thing… I’m using @christian-writers-club ’s character with her permission, in case the prompt doesn’t make that clear.  And I’d like to thank her.  

The ideas are mine but the characters and prompt are not.  So the original creator has permission to use this snippet, but anybody else has to ask her.  Also, the song belongs to Sam Smith, not either of us. Thanks a million to both J and any readers who like this.  

(One more thing I’m pretty sketch on the actual details on the plot but I know the two main characters so I’m going off, if I deviate too much feel free to yell at me)

_____

I’ve been here beforeBut always hit the floor 

There had always been worshippers, priests and priestesses, my devoted followers who all claimed to love me.  Most of them did, too, in the small ways humans loved their gods.  They made sacrifices, they placed their trust in my hands, they sat for hours before my altars simply thinking about their problems, as though to share their sufferings with me and gain some sort of pity.  

I’ve spent a lifetime runningAnd I always get away

I’d never been close to humanity, not the way my brothers Zeus and Poseidon were, or my nephews Ares and Dionysus.  I preferred to stay as far away from their realms as I could, as often as I could, and that didn’t just apply to Olympus.  I liked visiting my altars, I would avenge wrongdoings, but if given the choice I’d leave heaven and earth behind and spend as much time as I could with my eldest brother, Hades.  

But with you I’m feeling somethingThat makes me want to stay

That was all until I saw her for the first time.  Until I first heard her praying to me from the quietude of her own home.  Elpis, her name was.  She was beautiful and smart, and easily as devoted as a priestess, in her own, quiet way.  

I’m prepared for thisI never shoot to miss

I had faced far worse than a visit to a mortal woman, bloody battles of gods and monsters and men alike.  I faced the wrath of my sister Hera and the very darkness of my own father.  I thought that a simple visit couldn’t be enough to do any real harm.

But I feel like a storm is comingIf I’m gonna make it through the day

It’s harder than it looks, even visiting someone who loves you so much.  It’s a million times harder to face love than a thousand hateful armies combined.  Of course there was a fear of the other gods, especially Zeus’ wife, but in many ways, the god I feared most was myself.  Zeus and Poseidon were my brothers, after all; Hera, spiteful though she was, was my sister.  I was afraid that if I came to Elpis, I might act the way they acted.  And if I had, I would never be able to forgive myself. 

Then there’s no more use in runningThis is something I gotta face

As much as I feared, however, there are some things not even a god can run away from forever.  

If I risk it all  

One last moment, for doubt.  

Could you break my fall?

A deep breath, to overcome my fear.  And then my mind was made up, and I went down to Earth.

[thethespacecoyote]

How about "stop telling me you're okay?" For the hurt comfort, with any ship ya want. ;]

I’m still on my injury kick hahah >> so here’s some, this time with rhackothy!

“G-Guys, I’m fine, c’mon…” Rhys tried to insist, but the waver in his voice betrayed the pain throbbing through his body. He gritted his teeth, hissing as Tim’s fingers carefully rolled the cuff of his pant-leg up to his knee. Still, he tried to be tough, taking a couple of breaths before attempting to speak again.

“Seriously, it’s okay, we really need to—“

“Kiddo, shut up and stop telling us you’re okay.” Jack snapped from besides him. He had both hands firmly planted on Rhys’ shoulder, holding him still in his seat on the ground as Tim examined the wound on his calf. The young man’s teeth clicked as he shut his mouth, trying to figure out where he should look or what he should do. Jack gave both of his shoulders a comforting squeeze, which helped, but not by much.

Through the haze of the pain, Rhys felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. They’d scarcely been outside Concordia for an hour before Rhys managed to get himself surrounded by a pack of kraggons. Tim and Jack had dispatched most of them easily, and Rhys had even blown apart one’s skull with a cry bullet between the blazing eyes, but not before a pair of rough, fiery fangs dug into his leg. He remembered screaming as incendiary damage flooded through the limb, sizzling his blood and burning his punctured flesh.

Honestly, he was amazed he hadn’t already passed out, but even that surprising show of endurance couldn’t fight away Rhys’ shame at getting injured. He’d agreed to come on this trip with Jack and Tim to show he wasn’t just some soft pencil-pusher, that he could hold his own on someplace as rough and wild as Elpis.

So much for that, he thought bitterly as Tim stretched his injured leg out against the cool, greenish dust of the ground, giving him a good look at the wound for the first time.

His vision suddenly tilted, swimming with nausea. Something acidic burped up the back of his throat, burning the sensitive skin as he let out a distressed whine. Somehow, it managed to look worse than Rhys had feared. The teeth of the kraggon had clamped around the meat of his calf and dragged violently over his skin, leaving strings of flesh and muscle hanging in its bloody wake.  Any patch of skin not streaked with gore burned horribly bright pink, pockets of fluid bubbling up in nasty scorched boils. Tim had taken off his glove, the crevasses in his hands pooling with blood as he assessed the wound with gentleness Rhys wished he could find reassuring.

Strong fingers gripped his chin, forcing his eyes away from his wound. Lips, slightly chapped and moving, pressing up just below his port.

“Just look at me, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.” Jack’s voice, though still hoarse, had softened considerable. He sounded more worried than angry, now, and the concern in his tone would’ve frightened Rhys more if not for the lips against his temple and the wave of Jack’s cologne distracted him from the burning, metallic stench of his wound. That was one of those things he’d noticed when he’d first set foot outside Concordia into the desolation of Elpis proper—the lack of smell. It’d unsettled him, leaving a truly alien weight in his chest.

Rhys clung to the smell and touch of his boyfriend, listening to Jack’s comforting words as Tim tended to his leg. Every press of fingers against his calf burned, and even when Tim finally found a decent enough spot to inject the healing hypo Rhys couldn’t help sobbing in pain at the feeling of the syringe digging into his ruined skin. Tim caught his flesh hand as he depressed the hypo’s plunger with his other, squeezing Rhys’ trembling fingers as he pushed the glowing red fluid into his bloodstream. It burned, though not as badly at the kraggon bite. Still, Rhys let a strangled cry, louder than his previous sobbing, eke out from between his teeth as his toes curled and scraped inside of his boots.

“Easy…easy, it’s almost over…” This time it was Tim who spoke, remaining firm and comforting even as Rhys practically crushed his hand in his grip. The young man’s entire body tensed and trembled as the hypo forcibly knit muscle and flesh back together and snapped his fractured bone back into alignment.

Then, suddenly, the epicenter of the pain faded, leaving only lingering twinges spreading out from the wound. Rhys gasped, body still trembling slightly from the adrenaline as he relaxed back against Jack’s chest.

“H….Holy fuck…” Rhys spat out the swear without thinking, earning a small, reproachful squeeze on the shoulder.

“Langua—…you know, I’m just going to let that one slide.” Jack’s chuckle brushed against the top of Rhys’ head, followed by a firm kiss to his scalp. The young man couldn’t help but laugh lightly along with him, a touch hysterical.

“That…” Rhys swallowed roughly, mouth still tasting of stomach acid. “Was the worst thing I’ve ever been through.”

“Well…All things considered, I think you did pretty well.” Tim patted Rhys’ knee, smile reassuring. “Honestly, I was worried if you freaked out too much you were gonna kick me and jam your heel in my eye.”

“And that’d have been a lot more messy than some little kraggon nibble.”

“A nibble?” Rhys’ brow furrowed, glaring down at the patches of flesh regrown over his wound. “Jack, that was hardly a nibble…”

“In any case, it’s gonna be a little tender for a bit, and you might have a hard time standing on it…” Tim commented as he carefully rolled Rhys’ cuff back down his leg. He raised his head to catch Jack’s eye. “Might have to put off the mission for another day or so…”

Rhys winced.

“You guys really don’t have to…I can like…just chill in Concordia or something…” He tried to hide the disappointment from his voice, but honestly, he was far too tired to do it in any meaningful fashion. He hated sounding whiny, but he’d honestly been looking forward to showing off and proving himself. And now he’d been put out of commission right off the bat.

He’d just about resigned himself when Jack grasped his chin and made him look up into the CEO’s eyes.

“You seriously think we’re just gonna drop you off after coming all this way?” Jack scoffed as he supported Rhys into a proper sitting position, before helping him to his feet with Tim’s help. “Nothing we have to do is super time intensive, kiddo. We can take another day to let you rest and relax before giving it another go.”

Rhys blushed as his boyfriends supported him on both sides, slowly helping him walk back the way they came. His leg smarted a bit with each step, but Jack and Tim helped keep his weight off of it as they hobbled off towards Concordia.

“Think of it this way,” Tim murmured gently in the young man’s direction, “once we get there, we can get you a new pair of lucky socks.”

Jack smirked and looked down to the singed garments in question, before patting Rhys’ back.

“Maybe ones that actually work this time.”

[doppeldonger]

The Scarlet Letter

The first time he sees her, he’s just released from the doppelgänger program to be moonshot to Elpis, his clothes fresh and his face new and unused. He acts the “handsome asshole with bravado” part quite well, if he says so himself; the swagger looks just right on his fit figure, hands casually in his pockets like he owns the damn place.

But then he sees her.

The colorful lights of the bar caress her pale skin, bringing out her perfect curves; he can’t take his eyes off of the bar owner, her merciless chest, the tiny dress hugging her body, and that voluptuous smile gracing her gorgeous face.

He should be saying something, cracking a joke about how she’s Jack’s ex- or hell, complimenting her, even… But he’s simply speechless, so it’s no surprise that the only sound leaving him is a strangled gurgle. Nisha throws a glare in his way, tipping her hat low and approaching the bar; she rolls her eyes at Timothy’s dumbstruck expression and shares an amused look with Wilhelm before she dives in, peppering Moxxi’s ego with insults. Timothy shakes himself, shedding his reverie like one wakes up from sleep and he interrupts the kinky cowgirl, “Fuck off, Nish! If you’ll get nasty like that, go get yourself a drink and shut up.”

The way Nisha is looking at him speaks a thousand words, like “I’d snap your fucking head if I wasn’t so amused by your show of bravery.” or “You’re lucky you’re Jack’s doppelgänger or I would’ve torn your face off by now.”

The way Moxxi is looking at him, though… Her electric blue eyes shine with amusement and appreciation alike, the angry snarl directed towards Nisha now changed into a pleased little smile, reserved just for him. Looking at the bar owner, Timothy can feel his face burn up in crimson.

Gosh, he’s so embarrassed.

The second time he sees her, the mood is much darker although the scenery is the same. The so-called betrayal of Moxxi, Lilith and Roland left behind long ago, the Vault of the Sentinel has been raided dry; Jack has received the accursed visions, engraved every little detail in the ever-scheming brain of his and dethroned Tassiter just a week ago. Claptrap’s done for, Athena has quit, a very-bored Aurelia following her not much later. That leaves Nisha, Wilhelm and Timothy to deal with Jack’s crazed shenanigans. Juuuuust lovely.

Wilhelm makes his way to the R&D department to let them work on his future robotic enhancements and Jack departs with Nisha for Pandora to take over Lynchwood.

Not before he leaves a gift for Timothy, however.

Thinking back, Timothy is certain that “gift” is for Jack rather than for him; after all, the doppelgänger was the one left screaming in pain on the floor with Jack looming over him with a manic smile on his lips and a brand in his hands.

The moment Jack abandons Timothy to have fun (A.K.A. wreak havoc on Pandora) with his new girlfriend, the doppelgänger abandons Helios to wander around Elpis aimlessly until his feet drag him into Moxxi’s bar, his clothes crumpled, the scar on his face new and hurting like a bitch.

Pulling his hood lower onto his offensive face, he makes his way to the bar and the absence of his usual polite-and-cheerful attitude immediately alarms the bar owner. She can’t look past the shadows of his hood, and it takes a good deal of coaxing to get his head up just an inch.

And then she sees it.

They end up in the backroom Moxxi uses as her lodging whenever she’s running the bar on Elpis, the woman shaking with fury as opposed to Timothy’s cold nonchalance and resignation. She demands answers, just like he expected her to do, barely able to contain her frustrated screams at Jack’s boldness. He’s just silent, sitting on the edge of Moxxi’s bed sized just for a queen like her, eyes looking at a spot in the wall and unseeing.

She eventually sits down next to him, rubbing soothing circles on his back and tries to get him to do something, to talk, to scream, to cry… she just wants him to stop bottling up his emotions so.

But he feels so, so embarrassed.

“It’s not your fault.” she murmurs, carding her long thin fingers through his disheveled hair and thinking how easily he revels in the gesture Jack hated so much. He was supposed to be a face like Jack’s and nothing more, but he’s a completely different human being under all the plastic surgery and training; she falls for him a little just by watching him there, the deep bass of the club providing background noise, albeit muffled. “You’re a wonderful person, and you deserve none of this.”

His head snaps up and he looks at her disbelievingly, “I do! I asked for all this when I signed up for this shit!”

She can understand how he feels, “You couldn’t have known. Don’t be embarrassed.” She knows, she knows, and that makes him feel all the worse. He ends up sliding off the bed onto the floor nevertheless, his aching face buried in her lap in hopes for alleviation her gentle hands could provide.

He leaves her and her bar after a while, eyes puffed up and sniffing, his hood back on his head as he heads out. He’ll have to return to Helios eventually, he has a tight schedule since Jack will be back soon, but he still has some time to clear his head. She knows it too, so Moxxi sees him off with a sad smile and a friendly advice, “Hubris is the downfall of a person, but humility is no better.”

The third time is the charm, and they see each other in conditions that are much different when they meet all these years later. Timothy is working for the CEO of the biggest company around, but it’s not Hyperion anymore. The guy who goes by the humble name of Rhys is a much better boss than Jack could even dream of becoming; and he knows how much Timothy has suffered in the hands of the said man, having housed him in his head in the form of a distorted AI. So it’s no surprise when Rhys sends Timothy to Moxxi with an offer: Come open up shop in Serenity, the city we built over Opportunity as Atlas, for a better future. Flashy, just like the young CEO himself, if you ask Timothy, but both men know it’ll make Moxxi interested; they’re asking her for her bar and her mechanic excellency alike, after all.

So, here he stands, in the middle of Moxxi’s bar up on Sanctuary with Brick and Mordecai sent to accompany him by Lilith; they still don’t trust him after all these years, and he can’t really blame them. He doesn’t mind their presence either, it keeps the curious residents of the floating city away from him; no questions about his face or voice dared to be asked. When he sees her, he’s as stupefied as he was all those years ago on Elpis; his clothes worn off from age and violence just like his face, but Moxxi seems unchanged as opposed to him with her lovely purple dress worshipping her curves and with her electric blue eyes.

She seems surprised to see him, because of all the years they remained apart without communication or because he’s brave enough to set foot in Lilith’s city, he does not know. He bets on both as he settles in a bar chair, the other vault hunters sitting on either side of him like menacing bouncers (who’s protecting who, and from whom at this point? He just doesn’t know). He orders a drink he knows he won’t touch, he’s not really into alcohol (Jack called him “a pansy” along with many other insulting slurs in the past for it); plus, the sight in front of him and the mission he’s on are much more interesting to him.

“Hey.” he greets her, still feeling a little tongue-tied after all these years. He gives her a genuine smile and offers his hands to her across the counter. Her surprise morphs into joy and she leans to put her hands in his, his order long forgotten. Brick and Mordecai make gagging sounds (especially Mordecai, glaring at him all the while he makes sure how much he hates the scene he’s witnessing. Right, Moxxi’s exes.), but Timothy and Moxxi simply end up giggling at the reaction.

She smiles at him and he can feel his soul being cleansed of his sins with that gesture alone. “It’s been so long.” she whispers and he nods, “What brings you here, Tim?”

“An offer, actually.” Moxxi raises a curious eyebrow and lets out an interested hum. “I work for Atlas now, and the CEO himself has a proposal. Gosh, don’t look at me like that, Moxxi; unlike the last one, this one isn’t a narcissistic asshole with a high killstreak.” That gets a laugh out of the three of them and Timothy counts that as a win. “He wants you to set up a bar in Serenity, he thinks it’ll be a good way to draw people to the city. If you’re interested in an Atlas city, it can’t be bad, right?” He smiles at her, quirking an eyebrow. “He also wants you to open a shop that’s similar to uh…” he coughs, embarrassed, “To Scooter’s.” The hands in his grasp tense for a moment, a look passing Moxxi’s eyes. “Rhys knew Scooter, says he was one helluva guy, talented and fun and all that.” He gives Moxxi’s hands an encouraging squeeze and the bar owner graces him with a proud smile.

“That’s Scooter, alright, that’s my son.” she replies, head held high and not a tear shed. She’s a strong woman, and Timothy knows he’s fallen hard for her yet again. She relaxes, looking into Timothy’s eyes, “That’s what your CEO wants. What do you want?”

The ex-doppelgänger smiles at her with a loving expression, “I just want you to be happy.” (“Booooooooooriiiiiiiing!” Brick moans in the background.)

But Moxxi gives him a matching smile, and he’s over the moon, “How about… We talk about this over dinner?”

Timothy sputters, along with the other vault hunters, “D-dinner?” Ah, there he is, the shy, polite guy she met all those years ago. She chuckles, “A big offer like that can’t be discussed over alcohol, can it? Plus, I really, really missed you.”

That deep, sultry tone, that voluptuous smile he came to associate with her, those electric blue eyes darkening with promises not said aloud… That does it for him, and he ends up feeling embarrassed once again, crimson dusting his cheeks like it did the moment they met all those years ago. “I-“ he clears his throat, ‘cause wow, it’s getting hot in here and his throat is perched, “I’d love that, Moxxi.”

Two weeks later, Moxxi sets up two shops in Serenity, enrapturing the residents easily with her bar and mechanic shop alike. She works awfully close to apartment complex Timothy resides in, but nobody makes a mention of it.

And if she ends up unofficially moving in with him eventually, sharing his food, his shower, his bed and his love, none of them is complaining.

 This request is great and you’re great, @torrarina!

[oodlyenough]

fic: the thing with feathers

Fiona can think of a dozen reasons why Rhys might have kept Handsome Jack a secret, but none that will make Sasha feel any better. She hates him a little for that.

~3k, angst, gen. Fiona & Sasha after the fall of Helios. Also on AO3. Notes: When I played this game I felt like some of Fiona's anger towards Rhys in the present-day narration scenes seemed pretty extreme as a reaction to the choices I'd made (trust Fiona/lie about Jack/reject Hyperion), even for someone as dramatic and emotionally clumsy as Fiona (god love her). I also thought the relationship between Sasha and Fiona was excellent. So I wanted to play with those things.

Fiona watches Gortys explode in stunned silence, adrenaline shooting tremors through her arms and legs. Fate—and a shockwave—sends her half of the core to the ground near her feet, and Fiona picks it up in a daze, her ears ringing.

As they walk, Sasha’s hand finds hers, and Fiona clings to it, anchors herself with it like she has since she was eight years old. She closes her eyes, focusing on the mantra that has kept her and her sister alive all this time. Take care of Sasha.

Sasha is the first to speak. “Where are the others?”

Fiona looks back at the empty stretch of land where Gortys had been, the swirl of the storm settling, the Vault and its monster gone. Debris and bodies are scattered among the rocks. She doesn’t answer.

Sasha lets go of her sister’s hand, raising a finger to hear ear instead.

“Rhys? Are you there? Can you hear me?” The sound of Sasha’s voice echoes double in Fiona’s ear. “Loaderbot, what about you? Anyone? Hello? Rhys?”

There’s nothing but silence in return. Eventually Sasha’s hand drops back to her side.

Fiona allows herself a second to feel the roiling mess of emotions pulling her every which way, then sets her shoulders and puts it all aside. Take care of Sasha.

Everything else comes second to that.

“We need to get out of here,” Fiona says. “This place will be swarming with bandits and scavengers and God knows what else any moment.”

In another life, Fiona and Sasha would be among them, picking through the remains of Helios  with relish. Here, now, Fiona wants to get as far away from the wreckage as possible.

Sasha must feel the same, because she doesn’t protest, even for a shot at the stockpile of Hyperion weapons that must have landed somewhere. Instead she moves to help August, who’s still crumpled on the ground, mourning a mother Fiona had wanted to kill herself.

As she passes Finch’s body, Fiona stops. Fresh burns on his face have eclipsed the old ones she gave him.

She rips Sasha’s goggles out of his limp hand.

—

They steal a vehicle left behind by Vallory’s gang and ride in silence, a deafening change from the constant companionable chatter of the last few weeks.

Fiona drives until she can’t anymore, until the last of the adrenaline is replaced with a fatigue she feels in her bones. She pulls over somewhere she hopes is as safe as any place in Pandora, tips her hat down over her eyes and falls into dreamless sleep in the driver’s seat.

When she wakes again a pit has settled in her stomach, leaving her nauseous. After nearly thirty years on Pandora, Fiona has killed more people than she could count. It’s a matter of necessity and survival, and she stopped wasting guilt on it long ago.

Yet she can’t turn off the parade of faces in her mind: Felix with her bullet in his neck, opening a briefcase set to explode. Scooter, his hand trapped by a piece of bad design. Vaughn lost somewhere on Pandora. Loaderbot asking for a promise Fiona can’t keep. Athena dragged away by Vallory’s goons.

Gortys begging for her own destruction.

Rhys on the other side of a nearly-closed door, so scared and wanting to be the hero anyway.

“Fuck,” she hisses, heels of her hands pressed against her eyes.

Desperate for a distraction, she turns away from the steering wheel. August is asleep across the backseat, a makeshift bandage over his wound. Sasha is missing from the passenger’s seat.

The roof, Fiona thinks. Sasha always liked the view from the top of the caravan when they were on the road, liked how vast and expansive the night sky is—a whole universe of possibility outside of Hollow Point.

Fiona has never been as much of a dreamer as her sister.

Still, she hops out the window of her door and heaves herself up to look at the roof. The storm is over, the sky clear and dark. Liberated from the shadow of Helios, Elpis shines big and bright by its lonesome.

Sasha is nowhere to be found.

For a split second, it makes Fiona’s heart race, but she takes a breath. She climbs back into her seat and leans over August, hitting his ankles to wake him.

“Where did Sasha go?”

His peaceful sleeping face turns to a scowl as he wakes to the wrong sister looming above him. Fiona knows full well he’d helped them for Sasha’s benefit only, though she doesn't blame him. He must know he wouldn’t be her choice of survivor.  

“How should I know?” he grumbles. “I’ve been sleeping.”

He’s got a point. Fiona scowls back anyway. “Whatever. I’m going to find her. Try not to do anything stupid, okay?”

August rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue any further, which is too bad, because Fiona is itching for a fight. She thinks of Rhys—always good for a verbal dust-up whenever she wanted one—and then wishes she hadn’t.

She leaves August sleeping and steps outside.

“Sasha?” she calls. “Sash, you out here?”

She picks up her pace, circling the car, trying to stamp out the anxiety rising in her belly. Sasha is fine. If she survived Helios and Pandora and a Vault monster, she’ll survive a pitstop.

Still, Fiona quickens her step and calls Sasha’s name louder.

Finally, after a minute that feels like an eternity, Fiona sees a silhouette in the distance and jogs to cross the space between them. She’s just about to unleash a scolding when she gets a proper look at Sasha—shoulders tensed, fists clenching and unclenching, lips a taut thin line—and changes her mind.

“Hey…” says Fiona, gentle instead. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” says Sasha automatically. Then, “No. No, I’m not, I’m—ugh.” She moves frantically all of the sudden, stripping off her black blazer as urgently as if it is on fire. “I’m so—fucking—sick of —fucking—Hyperion,” she snarls, holding the blazer in both hands and tugging. “And I just—I— oh, ugh, God, okay, this is really well made.”

Unable to rip it in half as she intended, Sasha throws the blazer to the ground instead. She rips the headband out of her hair and adds it to the pile, grinding them both into the dirt with her heel for good measure.

Fiona blinks down at the discarded clothes, suddenly regretting the sleek black-and-gold outfit she actually quite likes; she has nothing to contribute to the sacrifice.

“I know.” She sighs, then shrugs. “But… hey, you know, there are other Vaults.”

“I’m not upset about the stupid Vault!” shouts Sasha, staring at Fiona so incredulously she recoils. Then her face softens. “I mean… not really.”

Fiona crosses her arms and looks down at her chipped nail polish.

“Yeah,” she agrees quietly, “me neither.” She forces a smile and tries for levity. “It's not all bad, though. I mean, we did literally bring Hyperion crashing down in flames.”

“Yeah, we did,” Sasha grins, but it's fleeting and followed by a frown. “It... didn't really feel as good as I always imagined.”

Fiona’s smile fades, and brushes back her dyed lock of hair. “Uh... no. No, it didn't, did it?”

Sasha is quiet for a moment, staring plaintively at the sky. They’ve worn all sorts of things for all sorts of jobs over the years, but seeing Sasha like this—with her hair down, a white button-up blouse and a black pencil skirt—is so incongruous that Fiona finds it a little unnerving. It makes her look strangely vulnerable, a side of Sasha that even Fiona rarely gets a glimpse of.

Then she turns to face Fiona with wide, imploring eyes and it’s even worse.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” she demands, sad and angry in equal measure. “I knew something was wrong! I asked him! I told him we were worried! Why did he lie? Why didn’t he trust me?”

Fiona can think of a dozen reasons why Rhys might have kept Handsome Jack a secret, but none that will make Sasha feel any better.

She hates him a little for that.

So she snorts and shakes her head and says, “Because he’s a selfish douchebag, and if he’s still alive I’m going to—”

“Shut up,” Sasha snaps, so sharp that Fiona’s eyes widen in surprise. Just like that, Sasha’s sadness is superseded by rage. “Shut up, just—stop it! He’s not here to hear you insult him, okay? There’s no points for you to score, you don’t need to keep up with this stupid charade. He’s not here, he’s probably dead, no one’s here, it’s just us, and maybe if you weren’t jumping down his throat every five seconds—”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on, this is my fault now?” She doesn’t want to fight with Sasha, not really, not now, but all the emotion she’s been keeping down for hours is boiling over inside her. “Sorry, which one of us wanted to ditch him in Jack’s office and which one of us insisted we wait?”

“Oh my God, I just wanted to wait by the ship! I wasn’t planning to abandon him on Helios, which is exactly what you did!”

“I didn’t have a choice! I had to look after you, like I always do—”

“I can take care of myself!”

“—because you got yourself kidnapped to help August, of all people—”

“He got shot for us, why shouldn’t I?”

Fiona scoffs. “After nearly putting a bullet in us himself six times, yeah, big hero.”

Sasha shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t back down. “It’s not like we’re innocent. We tried to con him—”

“Who cares?” Fiona’s eyes roll in exasperation. “We tried to make a buck, we weren’t going to hurt him. Meanwhile his warlord mother blackmailed us into this whole mess, she stabbed Vaughn—”

“You let that happen!” yells Sasha with an accusatory finger jab. “And yeah, I wanted to help August, okay? I felt bad. I spent months with the guy, and he got shot for me, and I wanted to help him. So what?”

“Oh, come on, we’ve been over this!” Fiona shoots a frustrated stare skyward. “You can’t care about the marks, Sasha, that’s the point.”

“Well, excuse me,” Sasha snarls, “if using people doesn’t come as naturally to me as it does to you and Felix.”

“I do what I have to do to keep us both alive.” Fiona is distantly aware of the way her voice is starting to shake.

Sasha’s glare is ice cold. “Yeah, but it never seems to bother you very much, does it?”

“Of course it bothers me!” Fiona explodes, arms spread wide. “I’m not a monster, all right? Of course it does! But I haven’t had the luxury of letting it get to me me since the night Mom didn’t come home, okay?”

Sasha opens her mouth like she wants to yell back, but no sound comes out. Slowly her expression softens.

Fiona can’t think straight over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, and the nausea from earlier is worse than ever. She looks away, nibbling on her lip, trying to keep her breathing under control. Her eyes sting in a way she hasn’t felt in years and she blinks rapidly to push it down.

“Fi…” Sasha says eventually, her voice gentle now. “I—I didn’t mean that. I know you’re not a monster. It’s just…” She sighs. “You make it look so easy sometimes.” When Fiona looks at her, she’s got a weak smile on her face. “Even with Felix. It’s like you can just… get over it. Makes me jealous.”

“Well…” Fiona raises her chin, puts her hands on her hips and adopts an expression of false pride. “Making it look easy is maybe my greatest con.” Then she deflates. “And I don’t want you to be like me. I don’t want you to stop caring. It’s just…” She trails off, gesturing helplessly.

“Caring sucks,” Sasha offers frankly, and Fiona smiles.

“Yeah.”

With a huge sigh, Sasha looks around, and then, finding nothing better, sinks down to sit on the Hyperion clothes she’d dropped earlier. She props her elbows on her knees, and Fiona takes a seat next to her, legs crossed.

Fiona doesn’t want to fight anymore, and she feels exhausted enough by the argument they did have. But with her anger melted away, Sasha only looks unreservedly sad, and Fiona knows she’s ill-equipped to help.

“Feels like every time we get close to something good it slips away again,” Sasha admits quietly, looking at her hands, chipping the polish off her thumbnail.

“I know.” Fiona traces a circle in the dirt with one finger, trying to find the optimism Sasha needs to hear. “But… listen, one day we’re gonna get it right. I promise.” She puts on a grin. “I mean, statistically, we must be due for some good luck soon.”

Sasha nods, but it's clear she doesn't believe it.

That’s fine. Fiona doesn’t really believe herself, either.

A minute or two passes in silence, Sasha picking at her nails, Fiona mindlessly adding to her design in the dirt until the interlocking circles start to remind her of Gortys and she wipes it away with her palm. She shifts until her knee is bumped up against Sasha’s thigh, appreciating the touch, however small. She never wants to revisit the few moments when she thought she’d lost Sasha too.

When Sasha speaks again, her voice is small, and Fiona pictures her many years ago, ratty clothes and dirty hair, crying because she was too frightened to steal the wallet from the man Fiona was distracting.

“It was good, though, wasn’t it? Having a team?” Sasha asks, and though Fiona looks over, Sasha is looking at her lap. “Having friends, real friends, for once, not—not marks or trading partners or temporary alliances, but real, actual friends. It was nice, right?”

She looks at Fiona then with such desperation that Fiona couldn’t deny her if she wanted to.

Fortunately, she doesn’t have to lie.

“Yeah.” Fiona swallows the lump in her throat. “Yeah, it was nice.”

Sasha hugs her knees tighter, staring at some spot on the ground in front of her. “I just—I can’t believe they’re all—all…”

She can’t bring herself to finish the thought. With a noise midway between a groan and a sob, she rests her forehead on her knees and squeezing her eyes shut.

We don’t know that, Fiona thinks of saying. Rhys and Vaughn have both surprised her before, and Loaderbot is, well, durable. She wants to believe Athena’s okay, too, that she’s escaped her captors and gone back to Janey with nothing more than a vague sense of regret at taking a job from Felix in the first place.

But Fiona’s a realist, and Loaderbots are strong, not indestructible. Vaughn is lost somewhere in the Pandoran desert without a weapon or even the know-how to use one. Athena’s at the mercy of people who want something that can’t possibly be good. As for Rhys—

Fiona had been there as Helios started to fall. She’d been there to feel the frenzied panic, see the people outnumbering escape pods three to one, watch the explosions as the station collapsed in on itself and escape pods collide with each other. Throw in Handsome Jack with a vendetta, and...

Well, Fiona’s a gambler, but she wouldn’t take that bet.

False hope can be crueler than the truth. She won’t do that to Sasha.

So instead she reaches out, puts her hand on her sister’s shoulder and squeezes. Sasha doesn’t look up, but she rests her hand overtop of Fiona’s.

“We’ve still got each other,” says Fiona, more resolute in that than in anything else. When Sasha nods, Fiona allows herself a little grin. “And, hey, you know, I’m pretty sure August would do just about anything you asked, so, if that’s what you want...”

Sasha finally lifts her head, resting her chin on her arms. She lets out a whisper of a laugh, then says, “You know, he gave me a flower.”

“August? Seriously?” Fiona snorts. “Didn’t strike me as a flower guy.”

“No, not August. Rhys.”

Surprise contorts Fiona’s face. “Wh—what? When?”

“At that Atlas biodome place, when it was just the two of us.” Sasha’s voice has turned wistful. “He picked one of the flowers and he tucked it behind my ear.” She chuckles. “Um, of course, then it sprayed some kind of pollen in his face and those floaty jelly things got really angry…”

Sasha smiles at the horizon, lost in the memory—which is good, because it means she doesn’t see Fiona’s expression of mingled shock and disgust.

She’s not an idiot, of course; she’d seen the looks Rhys sent Sasha, and heard the way his inarticulate bumbling became even more pronounced whenever Sasha was around. What surprises her is not the flower-giving itself, but rather the look on Sasha’s face as she retells it: soft and fond and faraway.

Fiona schools her features into a neutral expression even as she buzzes with renewed irritation. Anger is far more comfortable than grief, so Fiona wraps herself in it like a blanket.

Rhys liked her sister enough to give her a flower, but not enough to tell her the truth when she asked.

If Fiona ever sees him again, she’s going to knock him flat on his skinny cyborg ass.

“I know it’s stupid,” Sasha says, her expression suddenly self-conscious as she hugs her arms around herself. “But…” She hesitates, chewing her lip and looking away shyly. “It was a really pretty flower,” she finishes lamely.

“It’s not stupid,” says Fiona, short but sincere. She rises to her feet, brushes the dust from her hands. She won’t give her sister false hope, but she can give her a plan. “Okay. Here’s what we’re doing. We go back to Hollow Point—”

Sasha snorts humourlessly. “Fucking Hollow Point—”

“We go back to Hollow Point,” Fiona carries on, “because people can find us there. If someone…” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “If anyone were looking for us, they would know to look in Hollow Point. Okay?”

Sasha regards her for a moment, weighing her options, her hatred of Hollow Point against the love of her friends.

Finally she nods. “Okay. Yeah. I guess that makes sense. Hollow Point it is. Again.”

Fiona offers her hand, Sasha takes it, and the combined effort lifts Sasha to her feet. Together they turn and head back towards the car.  

“Tell you what though,” Fiona adds, bumping Sasha’s shoulder with her own. “I’m proud of us. Technically we did find a Vault. Not bad for a couple of orphaned Pandoran street urchins.”

“Hey now.” Sasha’s mouth turns up in a small smile, her first of the night that isn’t overshadowed by sadness. “A couple of orphaned Pandoran Vault Hunters.”

No one comes to find them, and though they never discuss it, Fiona knows she and Sasha draw the same conclusions.

Months pass, and when a message arrives addressed to them both and claiming to be from Rhys, Fiona is suspicious. Her gut tells her it can’t be him, and Fiona trusts her gut more than she trusts just about anything else in the universe.

But she’s curious about who would use his name to try to get to them, so she keeps the message to herself, feeds Sasha a lie about going to follow up on a lead about a Vault key (“it’s probably nothing—you know how it is”), and goes to investigate the rendezvous on her own.

Besides—on the off chance it really is Rhys, Fiona owes him a punch, and he owes her an explanation for why he sent a goddamned missive instead of having the balls to come see Sasha in person.

When she gets hit from behind and wakes up alone in God-knows-where, arms tied to her sides, her first thought is that her gut is always right.

Her second thought is that only Rhys could continue to ruin her life posthumously.

[thethespacecoyote]

I don’t know what this is?? Rhys gets implanted with some kind of weird parasitic....thing? Jack has to help him get out and its kind of sad and weird?

I dunno what this is but it has parasitism/medical stuff/body horror/possession/implied violent surgical means of dealing with the problem sooooo. Yeah. Have fun with this maybe?

Jack’s not sure if he’s ever been this afraid.

He’s usually pretty good about not showing fear—every good CEO knew to keep vulnerable emotions locked way far away from the prying eyes of the public. Anger and brutal happiness were the only feelings he usually allowed to leak through, because he could use those as methods of intimidation towards his Hyperion underlings.

Fear in the eyes of others was useful, integral to the rule of a proper king. But the fear brewing within his own chest, now, made him feel nothing but helpless.

He was staring through the glass in his private medical bay, hands clenched tightly behind his back. He wanted nothing more than to press his palms against the glass, to get as close to the other room as physically possible, but he forced himself to scorn such a vulnerable position. He had already shown far too many leaks of panic to the equally anxious scientists and doctors shuffling in and out of the adjoining rooms; both tended to the patient on the bed and the brewing, ominous storm that was Handsome Jack’s worried gaze.

It had been less than twelve hours since Rhys had arrived home from a brief trip to Elpis, hunting down some moonstones to use for some programming chip or something. It was for an upgrade to his arm, Jack remembered that much. The omega had been fine when he had returned from the shuttle, kissing Jack and scooping up their excited children. At his usual level of strength and lucidity.

But in the middle of the night, Jack had awoken to pained whimpers at his side. He had grabbed Rhys once he’d properly shaken sleep from his eyes, tried to turn him over only to find that Rhys’ body was wrapped rigid around his middle. His eyes were screwed shut in agony and he was crying out without abandon, his entire body shaking in a way Jack had never seen before, not even in the depths of a bad heat.

He’d called a medical team as quickly as he could, soon after waking Tim up to watch over the boys as he swiftly carried Rhys’ body out of the penthouse to meet with the medics, unwilling to guide them through the complicated process of getting his door open. Rhys had been sobbing and grabbing his stomach the entire time, body twisting both in Jack’s arms and on the stretcher.

He wasn’t moving much, now, and hadn’t been for the past six hours. Jack stared through the glass to where Rhys was lying on the bed, hooked up to far too many strange-looking machines beeping in colors and patterns that Jack didn’t understand. All he knew was that Rhys wasn’t waking up. His body was pale, crossed with faint purple, veinlike rashes that concentrated around his abdomen, and its that that makes Jack’s frikkin’ skin crawl with fear.

Rhys’ stomach was swollen and misshapen, his skin covered in patches of bruises and swirled in ugly, neon-purple stretch marks that almost seem to glow even in the stark light of the medical bay. The hospital bedding was pulled down over his stomach, the abused skin covered in sensors and imaging probes as doctors and techs looked on with confusion and concern.

Jack’s neck prickled, because the omega looked pregnant, and he knew whatever was in there wasn’t his.

Some freaky alien—parasite—thing had decided to shack up inside of his mate and Jack wasn’t going to stand for it even if he has to reach inside of Rhys’ guts and yank the bastard out himself.

He watched as a tech reaches forward, lightly palpating on Rhys’ stomach, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What the hell is taking so long?” The alpha snarled as he barged into the room, scanning over the tons of fancy equipment that was, in his opinion, completely frikkin’ useless. “You shits have been poking and prodding at him for hours and you still can’t tell me what the hell is inside of him!”

“Ah—Handsome Jack, sir, please,” a young female tech stuttered, trying to keep her sensor wand pressed to Rhys’ stomach even in the face of the furious alpha, “it’s just that….well….see for yourself…”

As calmly as she could manage, the young tech flipped one of the monitors in the CEOs direction.

“So…? What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?” The alpha snarled as he squinted at the image. It looked like a whole lot of frikkin’ nothing. Some shapes on the display were defined, like the glowing shapes of Rhys’ bones, but little else was definite and not blurred to high hell.

“And….well, that’s the problem, sir. We can’t seem to get a proper reading on whatever is there. It’s just like….like an artificial blind spot, so to speak. It’s blocking our attempt to properly see inside him.”

The beta traced her finger around the blur.

“It does….seem that, whatever it is, it’s housed himself inside your omega’s reproductive organs. Interfacing with his circulatory system. That’s….that’s all we can tell at this point, until the labs get ba—“

The beta was cut off as Jack slammed his fist against the display.

“Great. Great! You’ve had six frikkin’ hours and that’s all you’ve had to show for it! Are you kidding!” The alpha roared, spit flying from his fangs. He tensed, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing his temples, cursing to himself as he desperately tried to bring his emotions back under control. He looked up, face shadowed by his hands, dark and menacing at the beta.

“You have a mate, sugar?”

“Y….Yes sir.”

“No kidding. And pups?”

A bigger pause this time. “…Yes.”

One hand fell to Jack’s hip, the other grasping his chin as he glared at her.

“Right. Well, if you don’t figure out what’s wrong with him, then I’ll kill your mate and your pups. In fact, I’ll kill everyone’s mate and pups. We gotta deal, kiddos?” Jack growled, wondering for a moment if he should kill someone’s family now just to get a fire lit under them when a pained little whimper from Rhys’ caught his attention.

Jack was at his mate’s sight in an instant, his bond throbbing in shared pain as he placed his hands upon Rhys, just barely remembering to be careful not to jostle the IVs and sensors.  

“Rhysie…” Jack croaked, carefully brushing the omega’s hair off his forehead. God, he was burning up, and it ached through Jack’s entire body. Another sad, shaky little whimper escaped the omega’s lips, his eyes fluttering and lips moving as if he wanted to wake up, but didn’t have the strength.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, it’s okay…” The alpha tried to sooth, his other hand finding Rhys’ hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. He kissed his mate’s forehead, pressing as close to him as he felt comfortable with all the sensors and the pain the younger man was in.

His bond was braying at him, sensing the pain and distress his mate was in and trying to get him to do something, anything to protect Rhys. But Jack could do nothing but watch and hold his omega, stroke his head and kiss him and assure him everything would be fine.

And it would be fine, or else Jack would end the day with a lot of blood on his hands.

It was nearly another other before Rhys’ labs came back, and what Jack was told had the alpha reeling.

“Eridium? You’re joking.” Jack snapped at the doctor who had approached him, snatching the file out of his hands. “How the hell can he have Eridium in his blood? He’d be dead!”

“I….I don’t understand it either, sir, but there’s no doubt. We ran the blood several times, and come up with the same results.” The alpha nervously adjusted his glasses. Jack sniffed sharply. God, this guy smelled like he’d spent a day in the thresher enclosure. When was the last time these people bathed?

“Well, what the hell are we gonna do about that, huh?” Jack huffed.

“We….we need to operate on him as soon as possible, to get whatever is producing the Eridium out before something irreversible happens. It’s going to be difficult with our imaging software malfunctioning, but….we don’t really have a choice.” The man concluded grimly.

“Fine. You fuck up, I kill your whole family, blah blah blah, you know the whole drill.” Jack spat, pushing himself up from his chair and brushing past the doctor.

He re-entered the main room, eyes falling on Rhys’ form. God, he looked even worse than he had before, the purple veins spreading further over his body, growing thicker as they spiraled out from his swollen stomach. Jeez, it was even bigger than it had been an hour ago, irregular lumps standing out against his stretched skin. Jack swallowed around the thickness in his throat, hating the way Rhys’ looked. It was nothing like the charming, clever omega he knew. The one who’d given him two kids and countless nights of sex and sweetness and support beyond what he probably deserved.

He approached the omega’s bed, ready to say what would hopefully not be his last goodbye—when he noticed that Rhys’ eyes were open.

The next thing Jack knew, he was being thrown to the floor with such force that his breath was nearly knocked from his lungs. He let out a hoarse gasp, spots popping in his vision. He heard the machines violently crash to the floor around him, and before he could push himself up a new weight sat atop him. He felt long fingers try to grasp around his throat, and that finally galvanized him into action. He seized at the hands trying to wrap around his neck, pushing against insane strength as his swimming vision finally fixed on what was above him.

The first thing he saw were the eyes—soulless and burning and glowing bright, bright purple out of a far too familiar face.

“Rhys?” Jack shouted, fending off the omega as he spat and hissed, trying to get his claws back around the alpha’s throat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jaaaaaaaack.” A dark, rattling hiss came from the omega’s unmoving lips, the sound sending a chill up Jack’s spine. The purple, alien glow that wracked through Rhys’ body, lighting up the bruises and marks that had come to cover the omega’s skin, was both familiar and soullessly alien. Beneath the plasticine of his mask he could feel his deadened scar throb violently, and he nearly faltered and let “Rhys” throttle him again. He grit his teeth, roaring in agony as his scar and his bond both screeched at him, before he shoved “Rhys” off and away from him, sending the omega crashing into one of the downed machines.

Jack struggled to his feet, swaying in imbalance as he stared. Rhys’ nude body quaked and jerked on the floor, like it was being yanked by invisible strings. His swollen stomach was throbbing, violent and purple as long serpentine shapes shifted underneath his skin. The omega’s head snapped up, fixing Jack with a fiery stare that pierced straight through the alpha and send a cold shiver down to his heart.

“You should have diiiiied long agoooo.” “Rhys” rasped, crouching back on his haunches, his belly writhing with horrible fervor.

“Yeah?” Jack shouted, trying to sound tough, “you sound like one of my exes, babe!”

Jack’s fingers danced on the handle of the gun at his waist.

“Is that it? Frikkin’ jealous I decided to shack up with someone worth my time? Think you can just burrow into his guts to get some good ol’ Jack loving?”

A cold, cruel laugh echoed throughout the

“Your dynasty will doom the universe. It ends here.”

“Oh, so first you sneak inside my mate, and now you’re threatening my kids? You’re not making many friends here, buddy.” Jack snarled, eyes flicking briefly to the barrel of his gun. He watched “Rhys’” body tense, preparing to strike. Jack gripped the handle of his pistol, eyes flicking to the omega’s stomach.

“Rhys’” legs twitched a second before he was leaping into the air, teeth bared, claws outstretched and ready to tear Jack apart.

Thankfully, Jack was there to meet him, the golden bayonet of his pistol glinting in the blue light of the medical bay.

Tim brings the boys to visit a few days after that. Rhys is still pale and weak, but his face lights up the moment Cyrus and Jaxen enter the room. Jack has to stop Cyrus from jumping on his mother, warning the boys to be careful lest Rhys pop any of his stitches. Jack lifts both boys onto the hospital bed to cautiously lay next to Rhys, who welcomes the closeness. He presses his nose into his children’s hair, scenting them weakly before laying back against his pillow.

For the first time in days, Jack leaves Rhys’ side for something other than the bathroom. He shuts the door behind himself and Timothy, glancing about in both directions before he pulls the double close, breathing directly into his ear.

“Sub-level seventeen, holding cell nine. There’s a chest in there I need you to take care of.” Jack’s eyes are steely, cold shells as they lock with Tim’s. His voice wavers.

“Get someone disposable to fly it to the deepest, darkest pit in the universe and toss it inside. Then kill them.” Timothy’s eyes widen in confusion.

“Jack, that seems—why don’t you just airlock it?”

The CEO’s fingers slip around Timothy’s chin, pulling him in closer. His eyes flicker to the side, watching through the window as Cyrus and Jaxen cuddle up next to Rhys, holding the frail omega close as he kisses their cheeks.

“I’m not taking any chances.”