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nicsnort · 3 months

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Gravita Anima (part 32)

Nightcrawler/Fem!OC/Quicksilver Long-form romance and drama fic. All chapters have been posted on Ao3.

Intro (with link to Ao3 story) First Previous

CW: mind control

Once they were back in Frost’s clearing it instantly became obvious that they were not alone anymore. Frost was with a small man with a sickly green tint to his skin. Elle recognized him as Toad. He looked a bit nervous but every time he looked like he was going to say something Frost sent him an ice-cold glare.

“Elle,” Frost greeted with an icy smile, her eyes still just a bit red from the tears. “This is Toad. You are going to attempt to recreate what you did to me on him. Consciously this time and without the benefit of being inside my mental space.”

“What? No,” Elle said immediately. “I am not going to hurt someone else like that intentionally.”

“H-hurt,” Toad questioned with a look of fear in his eyes. “I-I don’t wanna get hurt. You said it would be painless Frost!”

“Just emotional pain, Toad, you are used to it,” Frost told him coldly before meeting Elle’s eyes. “I have not met many mutants without a dark side to their powers. If you are scared of it the better the chance that you will hurt someone with it. Fear of any part of your power is going to lead to a lack of control and refinement in the rest. Get over your fear now before you hurt someone you care for.” There was a silent “again” at the end of her sentence.

Elle looked down slightly ashamed. As much as she believed mutants should be able to use their powers without fear, she had been afraid of her powers since Michael. She did not want to hurt anyone but she still lacked control. While Elle could efficiently use her powers, she had purposely kept herself from exploring them further than what she wanted her powers to be.

Pietro had decided to hang out just out of sight. If Frost was going to get her ass handed to herself again by Elle, he wanted to witness it first hand again. He was far enough away to blend into the trees -- not that that would keep the telepath and empath from knowing he was there -- but he could still hear.

When he heard Toad’s whimper, he frowned a bit. Not only did that take away his fun, but it added a new layer. Was Frost pushing Elle too soon? He shifted in his stance and observed. If she did it, it meant she’d be ready for the Brotherhood much sooner than Pietro expected.

From a distance, he could hear the stuttering voice of Toad again. “Y-yo, come on, I...I just wanna chill. Like...can’t you...can’t you try to hurt that…that tree?!” He wildly gestured to whatever he could find first. “Or that bird! There’s a squirrel! Look! Just...come on, this ain’t fair.”

Quicksilver leaned against a tree, already able to envision Frost’s look of disgust.

Elle’s focus was on Toad and Emma. She was unaware that Pietro was nearby and suddenly found herself wishing that Pietro hadn’t left. While she was sure he wasn’t too far she would have liked his presence. Frost looked at Toad with distaste while Elle felt sympathy for the man. “He doesn’t even want to help,” she repeated. “And as I said I don’t want to hurt anyone intentionally.”

“A weak excuse,” Frost spat, “you are content with hurting others accidentally so you will not learn how to control yourself?”

“What? No, I didn’t say--”

“Then incapacitate him with emotion as you were able to me!” Frost pointed at Toad who had been slowly backing away. There was a pause and Frost seemed to collect herself from the outburst. “You accepted this offer because you wanted help controlling your powers, yes? I know that this may appear extreme but I assure you that it is necessary. Unlike a physical power which can be trained with targets and weights, mental powers can only be truly exercised by using them on people.”

Frost placed a hand on Elle’s shoulder. “When I was young I was frightened of what I could do as well. It took years for me to learn to hone my powers through trial and error. And I accidentally hurt a lot of people along the way. I want to help you to prevent the same mistakes.”

Elle wondered if Frost realized that she could tell she was lying. Not about everything but Elle knew there was nothing accidental about it when Frost had hurt people. And this reminded her of who she was dealing with. Elle had gotten too comfortable with Wanda and Pietro. She had forgotten she was dealing with mutant supremacists, terrorists. If she was to infiltrate their ranks and learn information she had to concede once again.

Still a look of worry and concern on her face, Elle gave Frost the smallest of nods. They both looked at Toad. “Ah, shit,” he swore but he did not try to flee.

“You won’t be physically hurt,” Elle explained to him, though mostly trying to justify this to herself. “I am going to try and make you feel very sad. As soon as I do it I am going to stop and reverse it. You’ll come out of this feeling quite happy.”

Toad’s jaw tensed and he pulled at his hair a bit in distress. “Can’t we just, like, skip the sadness and go to very happy? I get enough of the first one, like, all day. It ain’t easy being green, heh.” He tried to joke, offering a weak smile and an even weaker laugh. Still, to his credit, he didn’t bound off...mostly because he knew Frost would make him regret it.

Pietro had moved a bit closer to hear clearer and see Toad. He was interested in how Frost was edging Elle closer to the cliff, getting her ready to jump off and, hopefully, fall into the Brotherhood’s arms as easily as she fell into his. He caught Frost glance over Elle’s shoulder and knew she was looking in his direction. Anticipation filled Pietro.

Biting her lip, Elle looked at Toad pityingly. She could tell he was telling the truth. He was used to sadness and loneliness. Glancing back at Frost, Elle received an encouraging albeit stern look. ‘Do it’ the expression clearly said.

“I…I am sorry,” Elle told him as she began to pour grief into him. She watched as Toad’s expression became crestfallen. He sank down to hug his knees. Like a depressed child, he hid his face with his legs, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“I-I don’t like this,” he muttered softly and Elle could hear him holding back tears.

She couldn’t.

Elle stopped the influence of her powers instantly. “I am so sorry, I--happiness it is.” Elle switched focus. Not sad. Happy. Make him the happiest he has ever been. Exhilarated. Giddy. Overjoyed. In love with life.

What happened next Elle did not predict. Perhaps she had overcorrected. Toad looked up at her with a huge goofy grin on his face. He started giggling to himself and rocking on his feet gleefully. But Toad wasn’t speaking, he was just staring at Elle with a puppy-dog expression if he had a tail she was sure it would be wagging furiously. It looked like he was waiting for her to say something.

“I told you to incapacitate him with grief,” Frost said, displeased. “Why did you back off?”

“And I told you, I didn’t want to hurt him.”

Frost approached Elle angrily. “Listen, Eleanor you--” She was cut off as Toad spit a wad of thick green slime right in her face.

“I’ll protect you,” Toad told her, hopping between Frost and her. “Ain’t no one gonna touch you without your say so.”

Elle stared at Toad, “Toad, are you alright?”

“Never better, all thanks to you,” he replied, facing her once more with a simpering grin. “Are you alright? Do you need anything? I’ll get you whatever you want.” Toad grabbed her hand and bowed over it. “I am yours to command, my Queen.”

Pietro’s jaw dropped. Normally his mind, like his legs, took a split second to comprehend a situation. But this? To see Toad smiling widely -- which was an uncommon sight in itself -- and then to see Frost covered and struggling with green slime -- Wanda would say it was a shame that her white outfit was forever ruined -- followed lastly by what Toad said seemed to stall Pietro’s mind. He had to blink hard twice and snap his jaw shut to reset himself.

Within a moment, he was beside Elle. “What in the actual…?” He heard the loud glomp of slime being thrown from Frost’s frustrated movements. “Frost, what are you doing to him?” It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

Why would Frost control Toad to attack her? How would this get Elle to use her powers against him? “I’m not!” Frost managed to spit out, literally, as she shrieked. “Toad!” Her blue eyes were alight with fury and hatred. She looked at the mutant kneeling before Elle but froze. There was an expression of surprise over her face that briefly replaced the hateful look. The feel of slime slipping down her hair made her revert back to disgust.

“It’s not me doing it.” Her voice was strong and solid, tinged with surprise, but as hard as her diamond form. “It’s Elle’s doing.”

Quicksilver looked between the two women, his mind racing. “Toad, get up!” But the mutant remained there, staring up at Elle as if she were an angel from heaven. “Elle, what’s going on?”

“Only if my Queen wishes, Quicksilver,” Toad spat.

“You can get up,” Elle told him softly, and instantly Toad was on his feet standing protectively in front of her once more. Putting himself between her and the other two. Looking past him to Pietro, Elle had an expression of surprise and bewilderment on her face. “I don’t know...I…”

“This is your power,” Frost repeated. “Eleanor, you have control over him. Tell him to do something.”

Elle’s gaze slid between Frost and the back of Toad’s head. “Um, Toad, show me how high you can jump.”

Taking one step away from her Toad launched himself a good 30 or so feet into the air before returning to the ground and giving a dramatic bow before her like a performer.

“How long is this going to last, do you think,” Elle asked Frost nervously. “I didn’t mean to do this, I don’t know if I can end it…”

“You have done a lot of things you didn't mean to do today,” Frost commented. “And both have shown just how powerful you can be if you trained yourself properly. As for the time length, I do not know. I suppose until the feelings fade would be a good bet.”

Pietro shook his head in disbelief. What were the odds? His eyes hardened a bit when they met Toad’s, but he knew well enough not to start a fight. Toad wasn’t himself...though Pietro would be sure to dump some soapy water on him later in retaliation. How dare he act as if he were protecting Elle from him?

“Three’s a crowd, Toad. Get lost.” When Toad stuck his tongue out, he scowled. “Can’t you end it sooner, Frost?”

The woman made a face as she pulled off more slime from her hair. “No...this isn’t just the mind, but emotions as well. And in any case, it would be prudent to observe the time it takes to wear off.”

Quicksilver crossed his arms. “Aren’t you glad you came, Elle?” He knew Magneto would be pleased to hear of this development. All the more reason to keep hold of her.

Elle did not like this one bit. Why did her powers have to be like this? Crippling people with grief, controlling them with love, who knew what other awful applications her powers had. “I will try to end it,” she told Pietro. “Testing the duration should be later, I think.”

She had no response to whether she was glad she came. Elle only saw this as a success in that she knew the Brotherhood would be much more welcoming to her. Though darkly she also thought that this would be the perfect way to gather information.

Closing her eyes, Elle focused on Toad. After a moment she felt it. A connection between them. If she were to visualize it, it would be a thick chord of energy coming from his chest to her hand. “I think I can do it,” she told them. Breathing out slowly Elle imagined the connection being severed…there was a sudden backlash of power causing both Elle and Toad to stumble backward.

The moment her body had shifted, Pietro was behind her, catching her. He shared a glance with Frost and it didn’t take a telepath to sense the same thought, how she hadn’t answered everything. That was fine though, he reasoned, since she had to be frightened and unsure of the new power. He helped her stand tall, but kept his arms around her waist -- something Toad didn’t spit slime at him for, he noticed.

Reaching up Elle rubbed her temple as a headache instantly set in. She realized then that Pietro had caught her from falling. Toad on the other hand had fallen flat on his ass. He groaned and rubbed his own head. “What the hell happened,” he asked. “Why does it feel like Blob sat on my head?!”

“You fell in love with Eleanor,” Frost said in a deadpan.

Toad managed to open his eyes a little up at Frost, wincing. “Uh...then why did you color your hair?” Emma flushed pink with anger.

“How’d you do that?” Pietro asked Elle, looking between her and the mutant on the ground. “You okay?” Perhaps it would be wise to end the training, he thought. They had plenty of information and success to count for the day.

In Pietro’s arms Elle allowed herself to relax just a bit. There was still a dull pain in her head but it had faded from the first shock. “I felt a connection and severed it...I have a headache,” she told him.

Her face still a bit red, Frost looked at Elle. “Severing a strong psychic connection can cause a backlash if done incorrectly. I will teach you how to do it next time. For now, I believe it would be best if we end our training here for today.”

Elle nodded, her eyes now on Toad who was looking at her with confusion. “So you’re not going to use me as a guinea toad,” he asked.

It became obvious to everyone at that moment that he did not recall her using her powers on him. Let alone what had happened during it. “No,” Elle told him, “at least not in a way that matters.”

“O-okay, can I go now,” Toad asked Frost.

“Go,” she told him. And instantly Toad was fleeing with massive hops through the trees. Once he was gone, Frost looked at Elle still in Pietro’s arms. A smile crossed her face at the sight. Yes, they had her, even if she did not want to admit it she was part of the Brotherhood. “Eleanor, continue meditating and focus on these new applications of your power. I will see you next week to continue your training, yes?”

With a little bit of a sigh, Elle gave a small nod. Even if she did not like them Elle did need to learn how to control these new powers. “Next week.”

A thrill of excitement went through Pietro. They had, indeed, found a powerful mutant. And here she was, in his arms. To have the power to control and wipe people’s memories? He could think of a dozen applications to this, a dozen ways to use it for the betterment of mutants. But for now, he focused on what was being said.

“Next week.” He echoed that as the obvious transport for these sessions. He picked up Elle like a bride and, with a wink at Frost, took off.

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Next chapter has NSFW sexy times

Fanfic Masterlist

#fanfic #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #gravita anima #xmen #quicksilver #long reads #fanfiction #pietro maximoff #xmen fanfiction #Nightcrawler x OC #Quicksilver x OC

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obsessiveyand · 2 years

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My character for Rick and Morty

Heavily inspired by the fanfic on AO3 Anomaly

Sasha 🚀 28 🚀 Female/Human 🚀 Dimension K237

5'4" - 154lbs - 💜 - 🎶 - 🌌 - 🥂 - 🍰 - ⛈

Bad ending and Happy endings available

TW for bad endings/ Gore, Abuse, Stockholm, kidnapping, body modification, possibly self harm, death, etc but these are welcome in RPs

🌌Backstory🌌

💫💣Maybe she's a masochist, but baby maybe so is he💣💫

☆Infinite yous, Destroy infinite mes, and we call it love.☆

🎶🚀High Enough - K.Flay🚀🎶

Sashas are a lot like Mortys, in the sense they are meant to be partnered with a Rick, However Ricks don't need a Sasha the way they need a Morty. Its more recreational. Sashas need a Rick to feel complete. Not every Rick meets their Sasha. This causes a vacuum of want/need.

Some Ricks will take other Ricks Sashas for themselves. The amount of Sashas in existence have slowly dwindled over time. Most dying in Rick related accidents, Getting stranded as get away bait, experimented on, and more. Rarely do Sashas get their happy ending with a Rick.

On a genetic level, Sashas are considered the perfect partners for Rick. Their devotion and obedience allows them to put up with Ricks eccentricities. Their urge to please and be useful to their Ricks runs on a molecular level, almost inescapable for a Sasha.

Because of this they generally find their demise at the hands of a Rick, Much like the Mortys. Every Sasha leans on the creative/artsy side of things, usually painters, musicians, anything involving the arts, ccasionally found as elementary teachers or coffee baristas.

When a Sasha meets a Rick, they are automatically drawn to them, this could also be said for a Rick. Certain groups of Ricks formed to figure out the reason Sashas exist and what drew the two together. This led up to many horrific and immoral experiments involving the Sashas.

Because of this, in certain dimensions parents of Sashas who had learned from other dimensional versions of themselves that this was to be their daughter's fate, began sending their Sashas away, in hopes of hiding them, or slimming their chances of ever meeting a Rick.

🎶🚀Deathbed - Bring me the Horizon🚀🎶

This was to be the fate of our Sasha. Her mother, in hopes of protecting her from a future of one sided devotion sent her away with a stranger who promised to hide her away, at "the end of the universe".

Swept away to live a new life in space. Though she didn't expect "The ETU" To be a shit space bar floating at the edges of a desolate area of the universe; in a completely different dimension than the one she called home. She found herself dropped off and a silent deal made for her. She would now work at "The ETU" until her company seen fit.

Only 17 at the time, her new employer found Sasha had an aptitude for music, able to read sheet music easily and pick up the piano like a natural, so he arranged to have her pay her way by playing the Piano for his patrons. This slowly brought new clients, which made boss happy.

So for the next 11 years Sasha grew up in the run down bar, playing piano and, as she got older, singing on stage. The ETU generally housed bounty hunters and other miscreants, seedy patrons but hella parties. The Bar itself was a large space ship that constantly floated freely Through space, causing its exact whereabouts to constantly shift which made it the perfect spot for less than legal deals or activity. Sasha grew used to this way of living, always kept on a tight and short leash by her employer who, now considered her more property than people.

Now 28 and still performing for her /savior/ Bernardo, she knew very little of the ways of space, which was ironic for someone who lived there. She was rarely allowed to sit at the bar after or before performances, her socialization with others kept very short. Bernardo didn't Want any risk of his little bird trying to spread her wings and leave, as he had become quite accustomed to her company at this point. And Sasha had shown no interest in anyone nor of the idea of leaving ETU so there was no reason to change the way things were. That was until..

A drunk older man stumbled his way through the steel doors of the ETU, He had wild spiked blue hair and fair skin, his face red with a drunk intensity as he belched his way towards the bar. This is the moment that would change Sashas life, forever; for better or worse.

🚀🌌🎶Do you feel it - Chaos Chaos 🎵🌌🚀

Sasha generally wears cozy large sweaters, "They make me feel safe and warm" often accompanied by a pair of rolled shorts and knee high socks. Sneakers are a must at all times "Hey never know when I may need to run for my life, sneakers are both fashionable and practical" when she's home and around the house her shoulder length brown hair generally falls loose, unless she's in the kitchen, on adventures its always a high pony, advice from Rick "W-wouldnt want your - your You know it gett-ting caught in something" Most of her clothing consists of soft colors, greens blues and yellows, some pinks, greys and off blues.

Sasha can be clumsy, not as clumsy as most but clumsy enough Rick finds himself bandaging her up after most adventures "Do-Do you need glasses or some sh-it, how-how , why can't you fuc-king see where you're going"

Ricks biggest Sasha based pet peeve is that Jerry asks her to play commercial jingles on the piano every day all day, and of course Sasha complies "You-You could literally, fuck-ing literally ask her to play .. you know.. m-morty the guy with the fingers morty wh-who was it morty with the piano" "uhmm you mean Mozart, Rick?" "Thats the guy, Jerry you you waste of space you-you could literally ask her to play Mozart and you land on stupid annoyi-ing jingles that that just take up brain space" "Awe Jeez Rick I-I kind of like the - the jingles" "Of course you do Morty"

🎶🚀Sex with a Ghost - Teddy Hyde🚀🎶

Sasha spends most of her time at the Smiths house, only going with Rick and Morty on certain adventures, generally ones Rick thinks she may be useful, but sometimes just because. At home she spends her time playing the Piano in the living room and working on new songs, cleaning up after Rick so Beth doesn't have to, and helping Morty with his homework when he's around. Sasha also took it upon herself to tidy the house and occasionally cook for the family, anything to keep herself busy while Ricks off on adventure after adventure. If she's not doing any of that then she's most likely off with Summer somewhere or getting wine drunk with Beth.

🎶🚀Breezeblocks - alt-J🚀🎶

Drinking with Sasha

Sasha never complains or broods about her and Rick, However she has been known to open up about her feelings, towards Rick and how he makes her feel negatively, when she gets too drunk, This is the only time Sasha truly let's on how Rick negatively affects her, Drinking is the only time she let's herself be vulnerable, and thats only because she has such less control of herself when intoxicated. Otherwise Sasha would never do anything to make Rick feel like, or look like, the bad guy. She puts him on a pedestal even if she can't help it, and it really shows when she's drinking. It can go from talking about how worthless she feels to how amazing it is to be near him in only a few seconds, its sick and toxic and inescapable for her.

Sasha tries not to get drunk often, having a glass or two of wine with Beth is one thing, but leaning Over Summer talking about how much she loves her while barely being able to stand is another, Theres definitely been more than once where Sasha has gotten too drunk or passed out in precarious places, Rick calls her a flight risk after finding her passed out in an alley after a night of drinking at a club with Summer. He specifically doesn't bring her apocalypse bar hopping because he doesn't want to have to find her before a planet burns out. There's so drunk you're the life of the party, than there's so drunk you're just trying to numb your entire existence, Because deep down Sasha is in a lot of pain, She knows what's between her and Rick isn't healthy but can't admit to it unless she plastered, and Sasha doesn't know where the middle is, so its a hit or miss.

If you are drinking with Sasha be prepared for random dancing and breaking out into song lyrics that may or may not suit the current situation, Sasha is a sucker for Karaoke and after a few drinks all she wants to do is play piano or sing her heart out.

If you wanna read my other OC posts, just type Sasha into my search bar!

☆Please note, Sasha is not a Diane replacement, If Rick had to choose between the two he would always choose Diane☆

In dimensions where Ricks are happily living with their Diane's, Sashas are usually living a normal life, however most who are more fortunate to live like this generally feel like they are missing something, often trying to find meaning in their lives, or they no longer exist in that dimension due to other Ricks, who choose to take misplaced or /unused/ Sashas for themselves.

If Diane's existed more predominantly I believe we would also see Ricks aside themselves with grief and other traumas, stealing Diane's, killing and replacing their Ricks, or as we seen from Prime just straight up killing the happy family.

Sashas are not Diane replacements, as its rare for a Rick to fall truly in love again, they are merely conduits of pain for Ricks.

Sasha truly does love Rick, for her being part of the Smith family has been the greatest joy of her life, finally living back on earth and, for the most part, living a life free to do as she pleases. It has come with many dangers and heartbreak, but she will always remain loyal to Rick and the rest of the Smith family.

^most of the songs posted can be found here^

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #original character #mvrp #roleplay #rick and morty roleplay #original rick and morty character #self insert #rickrot #rick brain #rick brain rot #oc #R&M oc #Spotify #Sasha Hart OC

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peppermintfreak · 2 years

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Here's a fugly 20 min recreation of this chapter

“As to why six of many had separated remains unknown for now. Recovery teams never responded to me. The machinery much to my surprise remained intact. The loss of my archipelagic facilities in Oceania was not a part of the plan however-“

“What a dull handwriting...”

A voice piped in, followed by the sound of inconsistent footsteps edging closer.

Loomy reeled at the remark and lifted his flashlight towards the source of the noise, only to be met face to face with another android. The awkward space left between them caused the flashlight to partially cast its light over the scrawny android’s expression, making his unexpected advent more menacing than he thought it would do. And to his disbelief, an apologetic smirk ghosted over his face.

“Did I frighten you?”

“To hell with you. What ever happened with the corridors you were supposed to go to? I specifically told you two to search them on our way here!”

“And we did,” the android stated as a matter-of-factly, “it was nothin’ there. Just a bunch of papers with a bunch of decipherable garbage written on them.”

The scrawny android suddenly took a step back and craned his neck to meet his quiet partner- with whom he had just marched in. “Right, Jane? Just piles of paper and trolleys covered in faeces. Nothing extraordinary to look at.” Jane slightly nodded.

Both androids, seemingly unfazed by Loomy’s stinking glare, their interest now shifted at whatever he was reading from a moment ago.

“ ‘ey Lubin,” the scrawny android pleaded. “whatcha got there with you? Mind sharing it with the rest of us?”

Loomy glanced back at the journal, mind tainted with curiosity as much as the next guy. He stood in silence, scrambling for a decent answer for the two, which by some means made him realise how the air was becoming increasingly difficult. Breathing did not matter to him, not really, but that must've meant that there is a gas leak nearby. How did he not notice that before?

“It appears to be a log,” Loomy sighed, “and like you have pointed out, it’s handwritten.”

He cast it back not so gently on the desk. “In short, nothing of great importance to us.”

“You let your curiosity get the best of you,” the other android spoke, his voice echoed across the darker side of the room he was roaming in, as he didn’t expect to get an answer so soon “not good for business... not good at all...”

"There’s a gas leak." Loomy cut off. "I suspect it came from another room since it’s became prominent only two minutes ago.”

“Odd.”

“I’m pointing out at the fact that we’re surrounded by many incendiary substances here, Rubik." Loomy raised his voice again in attempt to gain Jane’s attention too, who by the looks of it wasn’t earnest on him in the slightest. Her head in the clouds of dust and mind elsewhere. Unlike her, however, the scrawny android addressed as Rubik, looked over to Loomy in anticipation.

"Of all places here, now you are saying we are in danger? I suppose this isn't one of your silly little decoys to get us out of this room, so you can keep reading what? Out loud?” there was a slight change of heart in his voice, Loomy had noticed it, but no sign of concern or worry. Something by which differed Rubik from others like the rest of them. A trait that was envied. A machine like them could be pierced by eyes and words as much as they wanted, but the blind threats would still mean nothing to it.

"Yes. Plentiful." He beckoned back. He traced the log he threw so carelessly before walking over to Jane. The slouching android stumbled over her legs as she was being hurriedly pushed by Loomy in front of him. "If I were, let's say correct, then our end will look no better than the deaf ones we left behind" he stopped as he met Jane's face to tilt her jaw back to its place. "Literally blown away, thanks to nothing but our devout beliefs He ingratiated into us and you chose to follow."

Taken aback by the things Loomy had to say, Rubik said nothing in return. Instead, he stood up from his corner and followed them close behind, knowing better than to fight him.

#the androids #oc; jane #oc; loomy #oc; rubik #my art #shit ain't proofread #had to translate it to english and lost my mind halfway #world building

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 181

Only a short intro for this chapter: @dierotenixe and @mustachebatschaos, you each squealed with me brainstorming this chapter. Really, when I got the exact same suggestion from both of you.... It had to happen, right? Made way too much sense.

And @baelpenrose agreed with me that you were both BRILLIANT, so... voila!

Teeth was tightening something on their leg just as I walked into the medbay. They tested the movement, which even to my novice eye looked pretty uneven. “It will do for today,” they sighed before looking up at me. “It is still too heavy if I have full function. I am also very tired of these walls and would like to see my new home.”

My heart twinged at how familiar I was with the feeling. “We’ll take a transport for most of the trip to keep the strain as low as we can,” I promised. “Besides, when I first got here, I made the mistake of insisting on walking, and it was a huge mistake. This place is enormous. Even without the extra weight of awesome custom limbs and extra gravity, I was in a lot of pain afterwards.”

That managed to earn me a small smirk as they swung both legs over the side of their berth with a dull thud. Teeth hadn’t been joking about the function of the leg, though… They grunted with each swinging step as we walked to the corridor. “Perhaps. Some therapies. Now that… I’m staying,” they suggested through gritted teeth as we got into the transport.

“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “And one of the only stops we are making today is to meet someone who will definitely be able to help.”

“The Maverick or the Conor person?”

I shook my head. “You’ll meet them eventually, promise. They are my partners - mates? I don’t know what your family would have called them. But today, I want you to meet someone who I think you are really going to like.”

Since we were both seated, and Teeth’s vitals showed good on the feed being sent to my datapad, we took our time. The arrival of someone new caught a lot of attention, but mostly people just smiled and waved while they stared in curiosity. Granted, some just stared in general, but it was a pretty positive response over all.

“These are quiet rooms,” I explained as we stopped the transport for a moment. Rather than getting out, I pulled up an image on my datapad and sent it to theirs. “Sometimes we get overwhelmed by too much stimuli, so we created these rooms for people to use. They are meant to be soothing and helps us relax when we are too far from our quarters, or if we share our personal space and cannot have quiet there for the time being.”

Teeth managed to see the images after a few attempts. I had to show them how to flick side to side to scroll through them. “And this is not considered a defect?”

“Not here,” I shook my head. “There were times on Terra when it was considered an illness, which was terrible, but we have decided to accommodate that instead. It helps everyone be more productive, overall.” Smiling, I added in a conspiratorial tone, “I actually had these made for a ship celebration several years ago, and they were so popular we were asked to keep them and even make more.”

That seemed to be the reassurance Teeth needed, because they nodded seriously. “I will make a note to see these rooms in the future.”

I prompted the transport to continue moving. “If you have any ideas for new designs, let me or Charly know. We’re always trying to improve…well, everything. Oh! This is BioLab Four, where a lot of our food is grown. It’s pretty popular for community shifts.”

“What is a community shift?” Teeth asked, confused.

“So…” I took a deep breath. “Everyone on the Ark has three shifts, for the most part. One is your duty shift - your job, basically, although you do get days off. One is your personal shift - that one is the longest, at twelve hours, and is your time for rest, recreation, spending time with other people, whatever. And the third is your community shift. Community shifts are up to you, but are intended to contribute to the overall benefit of us all.” I realized how that sounded and rushed to clarify. “It’s a pretty loose definition of ‘contribute’, I’ll be honest. It can be educating yourself in a new skill, weeding or planting in one of the biolabs, teaching other people a skill you have… Just as long as it is spent learning or doing something you choose, and you register it with the Council so they can keep track of your calorie credits, it can be nearly anything.”

“Everyone has two jobs - one the Council chooses, and one they choose themselves?” Teeth asked, trying to understand.

“Sometimes,” I laughed, running a hand through my hair nervously. “But mostly it’s a hobby of some sort, basically to enrich ourselves. Take Arthur, for example - you met Arthur, right?” When they nodded I continued. “Arthur’s actual job is as an educator, mostly history, and you’ll get to spend a lot of time with him because of that. But his community shift is his hobby, which happens to also be teaching, but it’s teaching armed and unarmed combat.”

“And this person is also a diplomat?”

“He’s on loan, yeah,” I confessed. “He knows a lot about military history, so it helped with the negotiations.”

“That is sensible.”

I was, thankfully, saved when we reached our main destination for the day. “This,” I gestured with a grin, “Is BioLab 2.”

Without any further explanation, I helped Teeth get out of the transport and walked with them into the BioLab. They were distracted and confused by the food vendors outside, but as soon as we got through the doors, I knew they saw nothing else.

“There is water,” they whispered. “So much of it. And there are people in the water. I thought this was a laboratory?”

“It is.” It took all my effort not to smile, even as we carefully avoided the sand on the shore of the artificial lake. “This lab focuses on trying to replicate the changes we may see to Terran species in Von-like conditions. Since humans are nearly impossible to keep out of water unless there are some rather large natural predators - which Von lacks, by the way - it was decided very early on that people are allowed to take recreation here and swim.”

We managed to reach a bench and take a seat, Teeth’s face red with exertion. I was honestly grateful that my decision to stay on the transport up until now had been a good one… I would have felt like an asshole if Teeth had been too tired for what was about to happen. While they caught their breath and took in everything around them, I kept an eye on the group of people seated on one of the platforms further out. I could just barely make out a flash of red and gold hair and an arm carefully demonstrating something.

Just as the swim class came to a close, Teeth spoke again. “This is why you were distressed to find out that I could not swim? It is a normal human thing?”

“We’re fully capable of it, yeah. Some better than others, and that’s who I brought you here to meet today.” With a grin, I waved my arms in wide arcs over my head, catching the attention of the person I had spotted earlier. The head vanished as soon as it spotted me, and the surface of the water rippled as they swam closer. Eventually, the red hair surfaced again, and Nixe started walking out of the water.

Teeth gasped as the resident mermaid - albeit, sans-tail for swim class - got taller and taller, finally towering over us even before she reached us. Their jaw was still hanging open when I stood to greet her. “I was hoping I timed it right! I have someone I want you to meet, your majesty.” Nixe’s lips only twitched up slightly the title. “This is our newest crewmember, Teeth with no last name. They were adopted very young by two aquatic species, so I felt it was important that they meet you.”

“Your… Majesty?” Poor Teeth looked so confused.

“Teeth,” I smiled. “This is a Nixe. She’s a mermaid queen, our resident swimming instructor, and… Knows a thing or six about waterproof prosthetics.”

“My mother would have argued less if she had known that another queen would be caring for me,” Teeth scolded me.

Nixe arched one perfect brow and tilted her head. “So you are the daughter of a queen, I see.” She nodded in approval before kneeling to be at eye level. “May I?” she asked politely, gesturing at Teeth’s left arm. Teeth held the arm out for inspection, consenting to Nixe flexing the joints and testing it’s weight. “This will drag you to the bottom of the lake.” The frown was terrifying, and thankfully directed that the arm, not at Teeth herself. “Is it permanent?”

“The arm does not grow back in humans,” Teeth answered in confusion.

“Indeed it doesn’t,” Nixe laughed, shaking her braid over her shoulder. “But can you remove this one with little difficulty?”

Teeth smacked their forehead with their right hand, another Charly gesture. “Of course. Yes, I can take it off easily. I only reattached this much of it today.”

“This much of it?” This time, both eyebrows shot up.

“This is not all of the arm,” Teeth admitted. “I am still trying to figure out how to use lighter alloys to make it equally strong.”

As expected, Nixe was horrified to find out that, despite how much the arm weighed, the entire thing was even heavier. She fixed her stare to my face. “You want me to help them make the limbs better.”

I nodded hard enough to pop my neck. “Absolutely. And make them waterproof, because Teeth would really, really love to swim. They’ve never been able to.”

Horror turned into heartbreaking sorrow. Nixe had been a mother - that much of her history was entirely factual, although we had no idea what had happened to her son. To find out that a child raised around water, by aquatic parents, had never been able to join their only family… “You will,” Nixe commanded, turning to Teeth. “We will make sure that you will be able to move and swim as you should have all along.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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corinnesamuels · 3 years

Text

The One about the Cupholder

This is for @mppmaraudergirl, who mentioned a conversation about a cupholder on a couch not being conducive to cuddling on the jily discord. I spent all day thinking about that couch. And the next few thinking through this fic.

“Well?” He asks excitedly.

“It’s. . . a couch?”

James Potter rolls his eyes with a sigh. “It’s a sectional, Remus. Look at all this space! And the recliner!” He walks around the back so that he can gesture grandly at his favorite of the sectional’s amenities. “It has a cup holder!”

The third friend, Sirius Black, shakes his head in annoyed confusion. “We have a coffee table, James. What do we need a cup holder on the couch for?”

“Sectional.” James replies. “And for the convenience of it. Whoever sits here won’t have to lean over to pick their drinks up from the coffee table!”

James looks between Sirius and Remus excitedly, waiting for their unimpressed stares to dissipate and shift into fond acknowledgement of his forward thinking.

“Did the breakup addle your brain?” Sirius asks finally.

“Maybe it is a cry for help.” Remus nods as he looks James over curiously. “He really hasn’t had any time to process it.”

“True. The breakup and the betrayal were a hefty one-two combo.” Sirius says, rubbing his chin. “The betrayal was just one thing for us. We were happy to see the bird gone.”

“Nothing addled my brain!” James scoffs. “A man can’t want a comfortable couch to come home to after a long day’s work?”

“James, you work from home three days a week.” Remus says.

“That is beside the point, but thank you for remembering.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, clearly growing bored with the ordeal. “Look, if you want to get a couch, fine. It’s grey, it’ll work with most things. Looks comfortable enough. The cupholder seems unnecessary, but whatever. Can we go now?”

“Sectional.”

“Whatever.”

All in all, James considers it a win. And he could desperately use a win. In a month’s time, he had experienced a not-so-amicable breakup with his girlfriend and a betrayal by a friend he thought of as a brother. While the breakup had been long overdue, it meant that he had quickly needed a place to stay. The upside (if you could call it that) of their friend’s betrayal meant that there was a room available in Remus and Sirius’ flat.

On the other hand, the list of things stolen in the betrayal had included the couch they’d had since uni. How he’d managed, they had no idea. But Peter Pettigrew had been full of surprises, it seemed.

After a thorough cleaning, James moves into the vacant room and gets re-acquainted with Sirius and Remus’ daily habits. Soon, James instinctively knows when Sirius would be returning home from the motorcycle shop he owns, as well as which mornings he could expect to find a man or woman half-dressed in Sirius’ clothes at breakfast. He could tell when Remus would need time to vent or consume several stiff drinks as he trudged through his dissertation. It was almost like uni all over again.

Through it all, James gives himself time to sulk, drowning himself in FIFA, Call of Duty, and crisps after work. He knows that things will sting less over time, and for now, settles for being at peace and drama-free with his best mates. James spends the next year claiming the recliner portion of the sectional and keeping a drink in its trusty cupholder at all times. In fact, when teammates from the recreational football team he plays for on the weekends commented on the great shape he maintained even while eating his body weight in crisps, he credited it to the cupholder, saying hydration was always just an arm’s reach away.

Remus had raised his eyebrows and folded his lips inward at the comment but chose not to speak on it. Sirius just snorted and rolled his eyes.

Living with Sirius and Remus also meant spending more time with their friends that lived down the hall, who he’d known before, but only in passing. James finds himself watching football matches with Marlene McKinnon, a riot who often gives Sirius a run for his money. He makes it a point to ask Mary McDonald for the weather report (“You wanker, you know I do the traffic report and local stories!”). James also trades jokes in passing with Lily Evans, the cheeky pediatrics nurse who curses like a sailor and keeps her stash of lollies and stickers next to her stash of whiskey.

Cheeky and attractive pediatrics nurse.

James has no desire to interact with the opposite sex again anytime soon, though. For now, all he needs is his gaming consoles, his favorite spot on the sectional, and a drink ready for him in his cupholder. But the more their friends hang out, the more Lily seems to grow on him.

She didn’t do anything in particular. She was just . . . her.

He knows he is a lost cause when Lily manages to get herself locked out of her apartment one evening. Mary is covering a shift at the station, and Marlene and Sirius are out wreaking havoc on some unsuspecting establishment, so she waits it out at the flat with James until her roommates return. Lily has her hair in two buns atop the sides of her head, a sticker on her cheek, and is still in her scrubs, and James can’t help but grin at her as she walks in. He watches as she digs deep into her pockets and pulls out a handful of lollies, allowing him to take his pick. He takes a green apple-flavored one while she settles on lemon.

“Now, teach me how to play this FIFA game you’ve been playing nonstop since you moved in.” Lily says, picking up the second control and making a show of pressing all the buttons madly.

Sitting on either side of the cupholder, James and Lily play the game, joking and laughing the entire time. James realizes that though he had stopped moping some weeks before, he laughed more with Lily that night than he’d laughed in who knows how long. When Marlene and Sirius return, Lily thanks James for his hospitality and leaves a sticker and another green apple lolly in the cupholder as she says goodbye.

James spends the next few weeks subtly watching Lily when they pass each other in the hall or go out for dinner or drinks with the gang. He honestly doesn’t even really realize that he is doing it until one day he thinks he sees her watching him, too.

When Remus defends his dissertation, the gang decides to throw a celebratory party at the boys’ flat. Remus is deliriously drunk, taking votes on whether he should burn his dissertation or build a shrine to it. James mingles and laughs with their friends and Remus’ colleagues but eventually retires to his favorite spot and places a glass of whiskey in his cupholder as he pulls the lever to recline the seat. He looks over to the other side of the sectional and sees people squeezing themselves onto the cushions and sitting on the floor as they chat drunkenly. James smiles to himself, thinking of how the cupholder had ensured that he not only has his drink close by but that he also had enough space to relax. He toasts to his own foresight and takes a sip from his glass. It’s a brand of whiskey he knows is Lily’s favorite. James had gone to three different liquor stores to find it for the party.

Lily comes to say hello a few moments later and, seeing that there is no additional room on the sectional, chooses to sit next to him on the armrest of the recliner. While they talk, she reaches over him and takes his glass from the cupholder, stealing a swig of the amber colored liquid. She closes her eyes and smiles, relishing the taste. James finds himself very distracted by the euphoric look on her face—her closed eyes, head tilted back, dark red hair tumbling around her in waves, neck elongated . . .

He clears his throat to gather himself and reign his thoughts back to safer ground.

They talk about everything, or maybe nothing. James can’t be sure since he is still so damned distracted by her every move. He gets a reprieve when Sirius calls for a group picture to document the occasion. Mary has set up a camera and tripod that she, ahem . . . borrowed from work—though definitely not for the act of taking quality selfies, she says.

As Sirius makes his way to the front of the sitting room, he sees James and Lily talking and exchanges a devious look with Marlene that Lily sees too late.

Suddenly, Marlene shoves Lily off of the armrest. Lily attempts to brace her fall, but James’ reflexes kick in, and he catches her right before her back bangs into the cupholder. They lock eyes for a moment, or maybe a lifetime, before they seem to realize that James is holding her in his lap.

“I’m so sorry, Marlene pushed me and—”

“So incredibly sorry, Evans, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just didn’t want you to get hurt—”

They stop and lock eyes again. James watches as Lily’s cheeks grow pink, and when she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, he wishes he could have been the one to tuck it there.

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Lily says, uncharacteristically bashful as she looks up at him through her lashes. James is so distracted by the way she is biting the corner of her lip that he almost misses it.

Oh. Oh.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah.” She confirms softly. Her hair falls out of place again, and this time James does tuck it back into place.

Around them, Sirius and Mary are getting everyone gathered and placed around the sectional. A drunken Remus sits in the front, holding his dissertation like he’s posing for a picture with a toddler.

“Everyone one say ‘PhD’ on three!” Mary yells over the lively crowd. James hears Sirius count them down, but James can’t take his eyes away from Lily.

“One!”

Lily rests a hand on his forearm.

“Two!”

James wraps an arm around her legs to hold her to him more securely.

“Three!”

“I’m not uncomfortable either.” James tells Lily.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“PhD!” The camera flashes, and everyone yells and cheers around them, clapping Remus on the shoulder and toasting with their drinks. But James and Lily still only have eyes for each other.

The previous year had been full of emotional upheaval for James Potter. But at that moment, he had never been so grateful for his cupholder or the fact that it meant there was less sitting room on the couch.

Sectional.

Whatever.

Read on ao3!

#jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #James loves his cupholder #Sirius isn't impressed #modern au #jily modern au

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 35

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 13.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, anxiety ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part two

It is nearing nightfall by the time you all return to the ship. Yunho has already gotten Hongjoong settled in the medbay with Jongho’s help, as well as set him up with an oxygen mask and an IV, and to be frank, the sight of the infamous pirate captain splayed out so helplessly was hard to see. Whatever you were feeling must have been increased tenfold for the man who stood at your side during the whole process because you could feel the panic oozing off his bones, a nagging sensation that fell on you as well. As much as he tried to help, Yunho asked him to let him and Jongho take care of it, and Seonghwa caved with a surprising amount of haste. For better or worse, you don’t have to stay long there before Seonghwa is pulling you out to head up to the main airlock. It can only be worse because of who is waiting for you there: none other than Han Jisung come to join the crew for inexplicable reasons unbeknownst to you right now. And that is why you shift to look at Seonghwa’s sharp side profile as the two of you walk to join Yeosang in waiting by the airlock.

“Why are we bringing him aboard?”

“We need Jisung for information, and it will be less of a hassle to have him aboard,” Seonghwa explains through a clipped sigh. “I don’t trust the man as far as I can throw him, but… at least I can keep an eye on him this way.”

“Why can’t we just have Wooyoung help us through the dreams instead?”

Seonghwa glances over at you, and your eyes meet for the briefest of moments before he looks forward once more.

“We don’t know how to communicate with him yet,” Seonghwa explains. His tone is a bit more gentle this time, nothing goading or forced but rather a genuine attempt to ease some of your bubbling anxieties. “You can’t talk to him, ask him questions, or consistently control his body long enough to figure out where they’re being held. Besides, they are locked in a cell, and you can’t very well ask a guard where they are. Until we learn more about this situation and your connection to each other, this is the best course of action.”

“Would Hongjoong let him on the ship?” You inquire. You can already assume the answer, and you’re only asking for some sort of confirmation that this is a bad idea, but Seonghwa presses his lips together to form a thin line.

“Hongjoong would understand how critical the situation at hand is.”

“Would you let him walk away without a fight too?” It is a bit out of line and far too bitter, but the words are already out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Seonghwa freezes in place, steps coming to a sudden halt whilst you just continue walking as though you didn’t say a word. You can feel the way his eyes glare holes into the back of your head, and the twinge in your chest that pains your heart surely does not come from you. A wave of pain hits you as you turn to look Seonghwa in the eye.

“Hongjoong is different,” he whispers. “You know that. It isn’t that I don’t love or care about you, because I do. I feel both those things when it comes to you, in ways I can’t even begin to describe, which is why I want you to be happy and have a chance at freedom.”

“With someone whom you don’t trust or know?”

“You know and trust him yourself, do you not?” Seonghwa counters without missing a beat. “Am I supposed to decided who you trust now? Was it not you who told me that I didn’t need to worry about you? Shouldn’t doubt your abilities? I’ve already told you that I am not happy about this situation at all, but still I will not decide this for you, even if you ask me to.”

“Then what am I supposed to think? Right now it feels like you only want me gone so you can feel less guilty about going back to Hongjoong at the end of the day.” You turn on your heel, fully prepared to leave him standing there on his own in the heat of your unreasonable annoyance. Seonghwa closes the distance between your bodies with a surprising haste and grabs hold of your wrist, spinning you back around to face him in no time. You hardly have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air out of you by pressing you up against the wall of the corridor. You know what’s coming next before it happens, and it’s for that exact reason that you dip your chin to the side as Seonghwa moves in to plant his lips atop yours.

A dry and emotionless laugh escapes his lips instead, and you stare at the floor with eyes burning more than ever. Seonghwa slams a hand down hard on the space of metal beside your head.

“I should never have been selfish with you,” he mutters. You try not to think about how much bitterness his tone holds. “That was a mistake on my part. There is no security or certainty in a life like ours, nothing I can provide that would give you either of those things. I’m sorry for making you believe that I could ever give you something as certain as that.”

A thought dashes across the forefront of your mind, one that tells you to swallow the hurt nagging at your chest and take comfort in his body instead, but it doesn’t last long. You know better, and you know it wouldn’t fix anything in the long run. It will only make it harder on both of you if you let yourselves get any more attached before your inevitable demise that ends in you leaving with Jisung.

“Do you regret this?” Your voice could not possibly be more quiet than it is now. You lift a shaky hand to his chest, pressing your palm hard against the spot that now emanates the most pain. “Getting close and such?” Seonghwa shifts to place his hand over yours but hesitates at the last second. His lips twist into a strained smile.

“I do, but only because it is ending with you in pain. No, I don’t regret any of the time I spent with you, and I still mean everything I told you. Perhaps this is for the best. I am content with the time I got to spend with you, and I won’t ask for anything more than that.”

“All I wanted you to do was stop me,” you plea as though it will make him change his mind right here and now.

“There’s nothing to stop yet, Y/N.”

“Do you need me to show you how badly I don’t want to go for you to stop me?” Seonghwa exhales a deep heave of air and pulls away from you.

“What do you want more than anything else?”

“San back safely.” Seonghwa barely finishes his question by the time you’re answering, but in your mind, there is no need for any sort of hesitation. If Seonghwa is surprised at all, he doesn’t let it slip through; all he does is smile back at you. You only realize your mistake after the fact, stuttering in your next rush to speak. “A-And Mingi and W-Wooyoung as well.”

“What about after that then?”

His question doesn’t stump you because you don’t know the answer. You know what it is you want when this is all over. You want to rest, to stop running, for all this mess to be done with, and you don’t want to have to worry about your safety at every turn. You don’t want to wake up in a cold sweat afraid that the people you care about could be dead. You desperately want peace, but you aren’t brave enough to make the sacrifices that will get you there. Even so, there is no way you could admit it now because that would only make Seonghwa right.

“Your silence is answer enough for me.”

“That isn’t what I want with Jisung though,” you insist. “He is my past, not my future. I never let myself imagine a scenario in which I would see him again. I’ve made it this far with you all. I don’t want to leave you behind now. And even after we get the others back, I still won’t want to leave them behind either.”

“That may be the case, Y/N, but it’s — the truth of the matter is that no matter what, my first duty will always be to protect Hongjoong as his lieutenant. Perhaps that is why those lingering feelings of love are still present, but it also means that I don’t know if I can give you my love and promise to stop loving him as well. That’s — that’s beside the point though.” Seonghwa shakes his head, hand coming up to comb through his dark locks for a second before dropping back to his side. “If how I feel about Hongjoong is something you aren’t okay with, then I don’t want you to wait on me or my feelings. That isn’t what I want for you. However, this conversation can continue another time. We’ve kept Yeosang waiting long enough.”

There isn’t an opportunity to say anything more because Seonghwa steps away and returns to walking down the corridor without even waiting to see if you’ll follow. You have to jog to catch up with his broad strides, falling into step beside him with a bit more hesitance in your movements this time.

“Has… has Jisung learned anything yet?”

“The person behind all of this is still not guaranteed. Vladimir was merely an instrument for these plans, but according to Jisung, he said that there would be a special exchange on Dorado for Mingi and the others. Since you were originally the one they wanted, there is still uncertainty about what they plan to do with Wooyoung and San. Mingi, on the other hand, is set to be sent to a recreational facility on Dorado that specializes in Berserker training for pirate and bandit crews. They plan to reprogram him back into – into the Brute of Kebos, at which point he will be sent back to Vladimir. That’s apparently the bargain he made to agree to this plan. You were the prize meant for the other party but obviously, that fell through.”

“Why me of all people? With all the people on this ship, why am I significant in the slightest? Especially on Dorado of all places?”

Seonghwa shakes his head from side to side.

“Vladimir didn’t mention anything in the past few meetings Jisung has attended. We don’t even have the slightest clue as to why they want you, and still no word on who these people even are. Of course, the Ghost of Eros is valuable, there’s no doubt about that, but not this far from Eros and the Aurum system. And they certainly wouldn’t go to these lengths to get you.” His words die there, voice falling flat along with the sentence, and you watch him in silence for several seconds before he shifts to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It is evident that someone in the universe is looking for you, and they are taking great risks to get you.”

“They will have to try a lot harder than that if they want me.”

Seonghwa blinks back at you, eyes perceptive and searching as always. He seems to figure something out at that moment because his stare widens a bit before dropping to the floor without a word.

“What’s wrong?” You inquire, leaning closer to look at his face better.

“Nothing. Just a hunch. I’ll let you know if it becomes a concern later.” He shrugs off the concern and lets his hand fall off your shoulder to motion down the corridor. Yeosang has surely grown impatient by now, and it’s that thought that causes your steps and Seonghwa’s to increase in pace to meet him at the airlock. Only, once you finally reach that place, you find that he is not alone, and Jisung stands directly across from the taller blond, starkly out of place in front of Yeosang. You don’t need to visibly see Yeosang’s expression to know that the Elitist is glaring at Jisung – it’s evident in the way Yeosang speaks through his body with the tense shoulders and crossed arms, chin inclined just enough to be condescending, yet Jisung doesn’t seem phased by the man in the slightest. In fact, he just turns to you, eyes bright as ever, and grins from ear to ear like a Cheshire.

“Hey, little lady.” Something in the way he speaks those words with that smile that is branded on your brain and hand quickly darting out in your direction triggers a memory you didn’t know you had.

“Stop being a fucking idiot! You know I’m better than you, don’t you?” A hand stretches out towards you, writhing forward like a snake in the darkness, and you flinch away from the touch despite knowing that the man won’t lay a hand on you. “The next person who dares to say that to you will die a painful death.”

“J-Jisung?”

“I don’t care what kind of monster I become in their eyes. If I go to hell, so be it. They touch you, they die. Those are the rules, aren’t they? If anyone other than me lays a single finger on you…” Jisung trails off, lips twisting into a smile that is far too cruel for his gentle and precious features. “I will deliver a slow and deliberate death to each of them.”

Jisung’s hand is about to brush over your wrist – the one that bears the brand of your betrayal – when Yeosang steps between your body and his, hand coming up to knock Jisung’s own out of the way.

“It would be best for you to not cause any issues while you’re here,” the Elitist murmurs. He cocks his head to the side, maintaining that cruel and cocky air about his shoulders as he looks down at Jisung. “I’m not one for forgiveness, and you are merely here as a guest. Someone who isn’t important to the crew and has no place here. You would do well to remember that before trying to lay a hand on anyone in the crew.”

A scowl overtakes Jisung’s expression, and the man steps back to put some distance between himself and Yeosang.

“I knew her for five years. Perhaps you are the one who needs to remember your place, no?” Jisung jerks his chin forward a bit. “Or does the Royal Betrayer still think he has some impact and power over others?”

Yeosang might have lunged straight through Jisung’s throat for that comment if not for the way Seonghwa rushes to clamp his hand down hard on the man’s shoulder. He tugs Yeosang back with as much force as he can, but the simmering expression of anger on the lieutenant’s features is directed solely at Jisung.

“I would advise you to watch your mouth, Han. As acting caption, I decide your place on this ship, and that is as a guest. We need you for the time being but not in the long run, thus you ought to learn your place and remember that well.” Seonghwa plasters a stretched grin over his lips. “Now, if you would please follow me to the bridge, we can discuss in more detail the plans moving forward.”

He motions past Yeosang’s shoulder to the corridor leading to the bridge, but Jisung’s only response is to continue staring at you without saying anything for several seconds. Seonghwa’s gaze flits over to Yeosang, and the pair exchange a discreet nod before Yeosang shifts in your direction. His hand finds your arm, clamping down hard on the skin as he moves to pull you along, but another hand snakes out to push between the two of you.

“Is it not common courtesy amongst royalty to ask a lady before touching her?” Jisung bears a smile but venom drips from his tone in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

“I hate the military. Every single general and commander is corrupt beyond belief. There’s no circle in hell low enough for them. But those higher-ups? The royals who sit on their thrones and sip their expensive wine while prancing around like utter fools as the rest of us folk suffer and die on the streets… they’re the worst scum in the entire universe.”

Jisung has never liked people in positions of power, but his incessant rants about royals were always the worst to sit through because he could go on for hours and hours. Thus, it doesn’t surprise you to see him bearing such a disdain for Yeosang. Even so, you do find it a bit odd seeing as Yeosang is hardly in a position of power now, and he is no longer a royal so there isn’t much he could do with that nonexistent power.

“Think you can just take anything for yourself, is that it?”

“Han Jisung,” Seonghwa hisses, teeth so tightly pressed together that the air whistles through them. “I have no qualms tying you to a chair in the brig and extracting information from you that way. You should consider me to be merciful because if Scourge were here, he would have already dragged you there by your ankles. Learn your place before I force you to.”

One corner of Jisung’s lips tugs upwards as he grins at the lieutenant.

“Aye, aye, acting Captain.”

You can breathe easy again after that thankfully because Seonghwa manages to tug Jisung down the hall without any further disturbances. Yeosang stands completely still and watches the two retreat without saying a word for a short period of time.

“Your taste in men is questionable at best,” he grumbles after a bit, eyes continuing to bore holes into Jisung’s back.

“He just—” You stop yourself before any sort of defense slips out. It isn’t your job to defend him anymore. You have no need to protect him or say anything good about him at all. Yet even though you don’t need to, that inherent need to do so still resides in your gut. “He doesn’t like people in positions of power.”

“Is that so?” Yeosang hums to himself then shakes his head. “Come on. We can discuss the dreams you’ve been having and things you’ve noticed since coming on the ship while they’re discussing plans.”

It’s enough indication for you to realize that he no longer wants to discuss Jisung, and that is frankly fine by you. The silence it leaves you in, however, is not welcome. You don’t realize how vehemently you are rubbing at the brand on the inside of your wrist until Yeosang glances over at you and comments on the repetitive motion.

“You’re going to rub the skin raw if you keep doing that.”

“O-Oh,” you exhale, clenching your fingers into a tight fist and dropping your arms to your side. That’s all he says for the rest of the arguably short walk to his quarters, and he maintains a distance of several feet between you the entire time.

“You can sit on the bed as long as you don’t touch anything,” Yeosang mutters once inside his room.

It’s a basic and unadorned room, something you didn’t expect from a man who grew up surrounded by excessive lavishness, but for some odd reason, it is so inexplicably Yeosang that you can’t be too surprised. The blond heads straight for a small desk pushed into the corner of the room, one that sits beside a tall bookshelf similar to the ones you see in Seonghwa’s room. You do as told and sit on the corner of the bed so close to the edge that you practically fall off. There’s no need to be comfortable if you aren’t going to be staying for long after all.

“I don't need you messing anything else up so just stay put,” Yeosang says as he sinks onto the cushioned seat behind the desk. You pin him to the spot with a glare.

“Messing anything else up? What’s your issue with me?” You spit, arms coming up to cross over your chest.

“Hm? Does there have to be a reason for me to not like you?”

“I don’t get what your fucking problem with me is. Ever since joining the crew, I have done nothing that directly hurts you or puts you in danger, so what the fuck is your issue with me?”

“Is that so?” Yeosang arches a brow in your direction and matches your glare with one of his own. “If not for you, Wooyoung would still be here. Did you forget about that?”

That bites a bit too hard at your skin; it digs its way into your system and buries itself there to eat away at your bones. It’s the same guilt that has been eating away at you for the past few days, and you don’t need Yeosang to bring it up now and make it worse for you.

“Like it or not, I have a connection with Wooyoung and we have to work together to get him, San, and Mingi back.”

“I hate you,” Yeosang hisses. “I hate everything about you. And I especially hate your connection with Wooyoung. You are going to ruin him, and I hate you for it.” The tone he speaks with betrays the fact that there is more to it than that, but you aren’t particularly in the mood to have a tell-all discussion about all the reasons why Yeosang hates you. A pent-up confession, yes, but still not quite all there is to know.

“It’s not my fault that there’s something there. I didn’t ask for this, and I certainly don’t want it. I would be perfectly content being some damn Normie who didn’t have to worry about something like this,” you ramble without stopping to take a breath once. You blink furiously at the man as you catch your breath, eyes still blazing with uncontained rage when you decide to speak again. “It sounds like you are just jealous that you can’t be the one with a connection to him. Did you get everything you wanted when you were a prince? Is Wooyoung the one thing you can’t have?”

Yeosang lifts an old book off his desk and chucks it at the wall adjacent to him. It slams hard against the metal with a clang. You manage not to flinch in the slightest, staring Yeosang down with the same amount of heat as before.

“Allow me to have an ounce of jealousy! I got to choose absolutely nothing in my life while I was a prince, contrary to popular belief. Everything was selected for me, whether it was by my bastard father or the whore that was my mother. Hell, even my younger brother got to choose more than I did! I didn’t choose Wooyoung, but my love for him is one of the only things I ever got to choose back then. Does that let you just waltz in here and have this inexplicable connection to him? When fate told us that we were never even supposed to meet? I won’t ask for your forgiveness in this matter, because I have every right in the universe to be angered and jealous.”

“Then at least stop hating me for something I could not choose,” you demand, nose wrinkling in disgust as you spit the words in Yeosang’s direction.

“Protecting Wooyoung at all costs is the only thing that truly matters to me.” Yeosang lets out a deep sigh and looks down at the desk before him. “I’ll stop hating you when you prove yourself not to be a threat to Wooyoung’s safety.”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“Getting Wooyoung back in one piece would be a fantastic place to start, don’t you think? Do you not feel that same way about San?” There’s a twitch in the corner of your eye that won’t go away even after Yeosang finishes speaking.

“I don’t like what you are trying to imply with that, Yeosang.”

“Take it as you will,” the man states in response. He angles his sharp chin towards you, blond hair wavering a bit with the sudden motion. “Your feelings might still be a mystery to me, but I have known San for years. I know him well enough to see how clear his feelings are for you and what you mean to him. Is that not what is holding you back from our dearest lieutenant?”

A bitter taste of ambiguity resides in his tone, and it’s something that you cannot get out of your mind. Yet the more you think about it, the more confusing it seems to get because there is no clear answer to Yeosang’s question. All this time, you figured it was Seonghwa who was holding back thanks to how he feels about Hongjoong. Sure, there was a possibility of your past love for Jisung getting in the way too but the realization that you would have to lose this crew in order to go back to him quickly dispelled the romantic notion of returning to him. San was never part of the picture — at least not in the way you think Yeosang is insinuating.

“What do you mean?” You ask after several breaths of terse silence. Yeosang doesn’t answer quite yet; he returns to staring blankly at the wood of his desk, fingers of his right hand coming up to rub at the inside of his left wrist without reason. You’re well aware of what lies under the fabric of his black shirt, the brand on his skin that you bear on your own, and the losses that came along with such a mark.

“In order to give your all to someone,” he starts in a quiet tone, “you have to be willing to make sacrifices. I gave up a lot to save Wooyoung, but seeing the look on his face once we were finally free made all of it worth it. I would never go back unless it was to fully guarantee Wooyoung’s safety. You still haven’t found that moment with Seonghwa have you?”

Your eyes give away the answer to that question in the way your darting gaze slips to the floor and avoids Yeosang’s insistent aura.

“Seonghwa mentioned the deal you made with Han to gain his cooperation in this mess. And how you don’t truly want to follow through with your end of the deal, yet you’re doing it anyway. For what reason?” You open your mouth to respond only to realize that it is merely meant as a rhetorical question when Yeosang continues speaking. “Because you are guaranteeing San’s safety, you would go to a place you don’t truly want to go. You would do something that every ounce in your body disdains to an unbelievable degree simply because it guarantees one person’s safety.”

“I’m doing it for Wooyoung and Mingi too,” you counter with too much haste, and it betrays the truth about the matter and your defensiveness. Yeosang’s lips quirk up into a slight smile. You would almost say that the gesture seems genuine in that moment.

“You say that with your words yet your eyes tell all. It’s on you to recognize it.” He cuts himself short there and shakes his head a bit. “That’s all… that’s all beside the point, however, since this is supposed to be about your dreams.”

“And what exactly is it you need to know about my dreams?” You tilt your head to the side as you ask the question, arms coming up to fold over your chest in a desperate attempt to defend yourself from his scrutiny.

“Well, first of all, there’s something I’m curious about.” Yeosang shifts to pull something from the drawer, and when he resurfaces, he has a small bound leather journal in hand. “Wooyoung has had an incessant dream for years now — all the years I’ve known him actually — of a girl drowning in a black lake. He watches her head go underwater but can’t make out her features well enough to recognize her. He dives in to save her, swims to grab her, does everything he can to save him, but something always pulls her deeper and deeper. He can never reach her. He can never hear her screams. He can never see her face. All he can do is reach out for her hand and that’s it. But when you came aboard, that dream suddenly stopped happening altogether. He hasn’t had it since meeting you.”

“I’ve – I’ve never had any sort of dream like that. Just… one dream about seeing a man with dark hair across a black lake. But h-his back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. For all I know it was some random person and not Wooyoung.”

“And the other one?” Yeosang asks out of the blue. He arches a brow, eyes searching yours for answers, and you’re a bit taken aback by the question since you don’t recall mentioning a second dream to anyone other than Wooyoung. Ah… “He mentioned that one day in the medbay, where the two of you were late to the meeting on the bridge — you woke up shouting his name and asked him something odd.”

“Well, yes, but that… I had a dream about seeing Wooyoung in chains and the same collar he has now, but it didn’t feel quite like a dream. Moreso a memory than anything else.” Yeosang draws his lips into a tight purse.

“I can’t help you there.” The dismissive nature of his tone sends a sudden spike of rage through you, and you level the Elitist with a harsh glare.

“What do you mean you can’t help me? If that truly is a memory, then I deserve to know what my own past is as much as Wooyoung does!”

“I — calm down, Y/N. I’m not saying that I am choosing not to help you; genuinely I cannot. I don’t know anything about that. Wooyoung’s past — the one prior to when the two of us met — I have no knowledge of it, and according to everything he’s told me, he doesn’t either. Before the batch of slaves he was in came to Aera, their minds were wiped. Just as yours was for the military.”

Several years back, there had been one night in particular with your unit where all of you were up late in your bunks to exchange old ghost stories and legends, but something Hyunwoo had said at the time stuck out to you the most then.

“What do slaves and soldiers have in common? The cost of their service is worth more than a lifetime.”

And at the time, you hadn’t known exactly what that would mean in the long run, but now you think it makes quite a bit more sense. You sacrificed fourteen years of your life to join the military and be their property. Gave up an entire lifetime in service to the crown, and for what? You were no less a slave than Wooyoung must have been. How many years did they steal from him?

“Wooyoung knows fairly little about his time before coming to the palace on Aera. Even saying fairly little is being more than generous. Perhaps the only thing I genuinely sympathize with as it concerns you is that. Your pass was stolen from you, and there is no guarantee that you will ever get it back. While my childhood was far from pleasant, it always pains me when Wooyoung asks to hear about the times before him because I know that he doesn’t that. There is no ‘before me’ for him, just the day he stepped off a slave vessel and greeted my family.”

“You don’t mean — how long exactly have the two of you known each other?”

“Since we were nine years old,” Yeosang replies, a soft and genuine smile painting his lips. “Fourteen years. We’ve spent over two-thirds of our lives together, yet it’s still not enough to take away the fact that Wooyoung has a chunk of his life missing entirely in memories.”

“Were you… his master?” Your mind can’t move past the fact that they have been together all this time, through the years that Wooyoung was a slave and onwards. You haven’t had anyone be a steady rock for such a long time; the longest you’ve ever spent with someone to your knowledge was four years at best. But fourteen? That is the amount of time missing from your own memories. Is it possible that you had someone the way Yeosang and Wooyoung had each other for so long? A foundation in your life meant to ground you?

“No, never. He was assigned to my side, yes, but my mother was his true master.” Yeosang’s expression grows grave in that moment, and you know the look in his eyes well enough to guess that it is a sensitive and touchy subject that you should avoid. Thus, you shake your head ever so slightly to dispel the curiosity and move to a separate question.

“Then how did the two of you come to be here together?” You know a vague telling of the story of Kang Minhee, the Royal Betrayer who abandoned his dying father when it was his time to take up the crown, but nowhere in those stories is another person mentioned. No slave, no Wooyoung, no trace of any other name besides Yeosang’s original one.

“My father was sick, and the stress it put on my mother’s shoulders made her more cruel. I couldn’t bear to see her harm Wooyoung anymore, and thus I did what I thought was best and set him free in the night. Told him to go off and gain passage on a merchant’s ship to get off the planet. Then, as a stroke of vengeance against my mother, I stole documents concerning one of her many affairs and threatened to bring them to my father so that he would know she was a cheap whore on his deathbed. But even princes can’t get away with such things. My mother swapped the documents and told the guards that I stole highly confidential war declarations among other things instead, and thus I was charged with treason, given my brand, and stuck in jail.”

“Obviously you got out,” you murmur, leaning a bit closer as Yeosang tells his tale. “And met up with Wooyoung at some point.”

“Wooyoung is the only reason I got out. Rather than leaving the planet as I asked him to, he caught wind of how Kang Minhee had been placed behind bars for treasonous actions, and he thought it was because I helped him escape. He made a deal with a pirate crew to help gain my freedom, and Wooyoung personally set me free after six torturous nights of separation. I… being apart from Wooyoung for even that long was worse than treason itself. As my assistant, Wooyoung had a bed in my room so he could be at my side no matter the hour. He came with me anywhere and everywhere, even when it came to shadowing my father on his military tasks.”

There lies an unspoken cry of desperation in his words. You aren’t too dense to miss it, but the acknowledgment of said cry leaves a searing pain in your chest.

Yeosang drops his gaze to the desk. Something melancholy and sad takes over his expression, like he’s turning the pages back in a book and revisiting older chapters of his life that are less than pleasant, and for a moment, your heart goes out to him. The person he has had in his life for fourteen years — no doubt someone he never parted from even for a week — is no longer by his side. Again you feel that pull to bring Wooyoung back if only for Yeosang’s sake, for the sake of a faulty Elitist who found something more powerful than sheer reason and logic.

“We’ll get him back, Yeosang,” you whisper. “I’ll make sure of it.”

…

Your eyes open to a thick and palpable darkness that leaves you more than a little disoriented for several seconds. The scenery refuses to change around you even as you blink against the shadows to adjust to the shifting light. You blindly feel around for Seonghwa’s presence, stretching your hand out to find his form since the two of you were supposed to come to the Dreamscape together, but you can’t find him anywhere around you.

“Seonghwa?”

“Y/N,” he exhales, bringing an immediate wave of calm over your shoulders. A hand brushes over yours in the shadows, and you clasp tight at the fingers without second thought. “Something isn’t right.”

You don’t need to be a scholar or have infinite knowledge about this place to recognize that, but Seonghwa’s confusion brings a knot of panic to your gut.

“Where are we?”

“The Dreamscape but…” Seonghwa trails off as something collides with wood, echoing a hollow sound, and his body stops moving immediately upon impact. “Hold on, there’s — it feels like a door.” Seonghwa fumbles around a bit at the wood before the panel slides open, disappearing into the side of the wall, and pale yellow light filters over you. You can’t see past Seonghwa’s broad shoulders, but the slight pulse of his fingers squeezing yours tighter doesn’t bring any relief to your bones. He keeps you there behind him even as he steps into the dimly lit room.

A small fire crackles somewhere ahead, the only sound in the den of silence you’ve entered. When you at last step around Seonghwa’s back to stand at your side, your heart practically stops dead in your chest because of the form that sits before the fireplace.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks before you have a chance to get anything out. None other than Daichi sits in front of the fire, hands clasped tight over his lap as he watches the flames dance before his eyes. Upon hearing, Seonghwa’s question, the old man jerks his chin to face the two of you. A heated glare greets you before anything else, along with a rage you haven’t seen from the man in a long while.

“I warned you, Kazuya.” Unless you’ve suddenly occupied another unknown form, there is no way that Daichi is speaking to you, and the way the old man’s gaze shifts to your companion only confirms that suspicion. Umiko, Tsukio, and Kazuya? What significance are those names supposed to hold? “I told you both, in fact. I said not to go looking for more Sirens!”

Daichi pushes up from his chair all of a sudden, seeming to grow in stature without warning as he looms over the fire, and crude shadows twist his features in ugly shapes and patterns.

“It is your job to guide Sirens to each other,” Seonghwa hisses as he pulls forward to match Daichi’s heat.

“And yet I told you not to do exactly that! It may be my job, but it is not my duty to do so. I too am allowed to have free will.”

“Then we have the same luxury! Who are you to keep us from finding others of our kind? Have we not been alone for long enough? Was it not you who guided us to find each other in the first place?”

“That was a stroke of faulty luck!” Daichi counters, and it causes Seonghwa to falter a bit. “Let this serve as a lesson in cruelty, boy. This place, this Dreamscape, it is mine to shape and mold. I have let you walk around too freely without consequence.”

If Seonghwa has anything else to add to the argument, he does not get the opportunity to say it because Daichi pushes forward, body contorting and melding into a blur before your eyes as he steps through the fire and out of sight. You can hardly stand and gape at the scene that just transpired in front of you for long though; new voices rise to your ears, soft and warm tones that speak in hushed whispers. You turn as Seonghwa does, finding two new forms who seems utterly oblivious to your presence in the dim room. A young woman, hardly older than thirty by the looks of it, and a tall child with jet black hair stand on the creaking floorboards near the door. They don’t face you or even spare you the slightest of glances, too caught up in their own little world to breathe in your direction.

“Darling, it’s time to run off to your hiding spot. Your favorite one, you remember?” The woman combs a few long fingers through the boy’s hair, brushing it off his forehead. “I’ll count down from ten, and by the time I’m done, you must be completely hidden. You know what to do, my angel.”

She nudges his shoulder once, and it prompts the boy to lunge into action, little legs working hard to dash through the room and out of sight before she can even begin counting.

“Ten…”

“Seonghwa, what is this?” You murmur. Your gaze is so transfixed on the scene unfolding before you, and Seonghwa seems to be in a similar predicament but his face wears too much concern for you to feel at ease in this place. There lies an odd tension in the air, one that tells you this is not some fun child’s game that the mother and her son are playing.

“Thr—”

“Where the fuck is he?” The door jerks and wobbles as it is flung open, and in its place stands a man nearly as tall as the doorframe with similarly dark hair and a fair complexion. His brows are so closely knit that you can’t see the skin between them, evidence of the rage that falls off his body in waves.

“Donghy—” The sharp and resounding smack of an impact too cruel for words interrupts her, and you turn away with a gasp on your lips. Seonghwa’s body jolts forward in their direction, but you snatch him by the wrist before he can move far.

“Th-They can’t see us, Seonghwa,” you huff out, unable to look over your shoulder again. “They would have seen us by now if we could do anything.” Seonghwa offers no response but his hand tightens into a clenched fist that causes his knuckles to bleed white.

“Where is that little brat? I finally worked out a good deal on the bastard, a quick trade for slave traders.”

“I – I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. H-He ran away earlier because I was yelling at him!”

“Did the fucker break another of your dishes?”

“No, no, he just – he wouldn’t shut up while I was trying to read. I… I don’t know where he is. I went out looking for him but couldn’t find him anywhere!”

“You’re just as useless as he is! Can’t even keep the fucker inside for two seconds while I go out and get the money for us?” Seonghwa tugs his arm out of your grasp, pushing away from you as best he can, and you follow him blindly to another door off to the side.

“W-Where exactly are we, Seonghwa?” You inquire, falling into step beside him. “What’s going on? Is this — is this a memory? Wooyoung’s?”

“No. It’s mine.” Seonghwa twists at the waist. You inhale so sharply that the air burns your throat and lungs, eyes blown wide at the shock of the revelation. A single long finger reaches out to point down to something near the fireplace, and you squint hard at the spot before realizing that a small vent sits at that exact spot on the wall. “I hid in that vent for four days to avoid my father at age six. By the time those four days were up, the slave dealer he had made a deal with had grown impatient and left the planet. And my mother took the brunt of my punishment for me.”

Seonghwa turns back to the door before him and pushes through it. You follow close at his heels, hand hovering over the center of his back. The memory seemed less than pleasant for him, and you didn’t miss the disdain in his tone as he spoke about it, but offering comfort right now feels a bit out of place. The scenery shifts as you pass through the door, but only enough for you to realize that these doors aren’t going to get you anywhere. You now stand in a different house, one that is much more run-down and decrepit from the looks of it. The young boy – the young Seonghwa, to be more accurate – stands in the doorway at the front of the room, rain soaking his skin and dripping from his dark bangs. There isn’t time to look around and take in the surroundings more because the same woman from the first memory comes rushing into the room.

“What do you think you’re doing, Seonghwa? You’re supposed to be at the military base training with the other recruits! Why are you here?” She stops in front of the boy and clasps her hands tight around his shoulders. All the boy can manage in response is a small shake of his head, and silence envelops the pair for so long that it grows uncomfortable.

“I-I was rejected,” the young Seonghwa says at last. “They… they turned me away. I’m s-sorry, Mother, I’m so—”

“Shh, my angel, it’s alright. Let me see your face.” The woman stoops to be eye level with the boy, hands reaching up to cup his face. As she lifts his head, you get a clearer look at the state of his face; it’s littered with bruises along with a split lip and a cut along his cheekbone where the skin has broken. “What happened!? Seonghwa, honey, wh-what happened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The boy shrugs his mother’s touch off with a huff of air.

You shift to look at the real version of Seonghwa by your side, but his gaze remains locked on the scene unfolding in the room with glistening eyes that hurt to look at.

“The other recruits… at the time, they took me to an alleyway and bean me down like a dog,” he explains over the discussion between his memories. “All because I was born in a lower class, born in the Slums, not one of the Elitists who came from the Upper Echelon like them. Not good enough for the military even at age ten.” He exhales a loud scoff, teeth sinking into his lower lip so hard that you think he’s about to bite straight through the skin there. Seonghwa says nothing more; instead, he pushes back through the door you two just stepped through, only to welcome a new scene that causes him to freeze so quickly that you knock against his back.

“Go, Seonghwa! Why can’t you just go?” His mother is on her knees before the figment of his memories, an older version of himself that is not much taller than the one you just saw. “Do what they want! For my sake, if nothing else. They offered so much money for you, more money than we’ve ever seen in our lives. If you would just go, they’ll give it to us! I’ll have enough money to live happily for the rest of my life without having to go out on the streets and sell my body. Don’t you want that for me? Doesn’t my own son want me to have that freedom? Ever since your father passed and left us alone, I’ve been suffering so much. Can’t my angel just go with them for my sake?”

“I – I don’t want to go with them. They want me to – I don’t want to sell my body to them, Mother. I-I’m too young, please.”

It’s not the response the woman wants to hear, and she throws her hands down on her son’s shoulders, shoving the boy back until he stumbles and hits the creaking floorboards harshly. The Seonghwa at your side doesn’t let the memory continue past that point. He steps around you, fists clenched tight by his side and chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. You aren’t sure how much more of these memories you can take, and that feeling must be increased tenfold for Seonghwa since this is his life he’s being forced to relive. There doesn’t seem to be an end in sight, this cruel torture of Daichi’s making returning again as you follow Seonghwa back through the door. This time, however, you step out into a rainy street, cold droplets painting your skin and sticking to your white gown.

There stands another Seonghwa in front of you, one that is a bit more like the real one who is at your side but still holds a bit of youth and innocence to his features.

“It was pointless to try to keep you safe,” a voice hisses through the din of the rain. It’s his mother again, and this time she stands in a doorway completely shielded from the rain as her son takes the brunt of the barrage from above. “This was the only chance I had at a decent life. I could’ve moved to the Upper Echelon with all that money, but you just had to go and ruin it for me. Like you always do. You should never have been born! Look where it’s gotten me! That plague my father had was passed down to you and I have suffered every day because of it. I should have thrown you to the wolves the moment I learned what you are. You won’t be my fucking problem anymore, though. Go! Get out of here and don’t ever come back! You are not my son, you never have been, and never will be!”

“Imagine a child’s worst crime being that he was born to a world that didn’t want him.” The man at your side shifts to look you in the eye now, face contorting with disgust as he watches his memory play back. “All because I was born as a Siren. I spent sixteen years of my life being hated and turned away because of what I was. Even by people who didn’t know my identity. No one wanted me, and the only ones who were willing to pay for me were people who wanted me for my body and not what or who I was. And then…”

Seonghwa turns away with a smile. He pulls back once more and reaches back for the door behind him. You follow him without comment, unspoken curiosities at your lips as you step into a room full of overwhelming noise and the stench of alcohol. A bar, no doubt, and one that Seonghwa recognizes in an instant based on the way his shoulders fold back and he perks up at the sight of it.

“And then I found Hongjoong,” he whispers, dark eyes swimming with waves of emotions. You mimic his line of sight to find a near unrecognizable version of Hongjoong standing before a run-down bar counter with a mop of long brown hair styled in a messy mullet that runs down the back of his shoulders. And sure enough, another version of Seonghwa stumbles in as well, seemingly a continuation of the last memory with the way his hair is damp and sticking to his forehead.

“Are you the one looking for recruits?” He pants as he comes up to the counter, stopping beside Hongjoong’s form.

“Depends on who’s asking.” Hongjoong offers a shrug and swirls his drink around a bit, watching the golden liquor inside jostle. “And it seems like some morally right asshole is asking me now.”

Seonghwa pushes his shoulders back a bit and frowns at the man before him.

“I ask that you give me a chance.”

“Then prove yourself. Are you truly prepared to do whatever it takes to be a pirate? Especially one on my crew? If you know how to shoot a gun properly and could kill an innocent with no qualms, then I suppose you could join the crew.”

Seonghwa moves in a flash. His hand snatches up the pistol on Hongjoong’s left leg and lifts it to the young captain’s temple, pressing the cool barrel against his skin without a drop of hesitation.

“I asked for an innocent, and I am anything but that.”

Seonghwa’s arm shifts to point the gun at the bartender across from Hongjoong, and he doesn’t even blink before firing the gun just to the left of the man’s head. The din in the bar falls to a hush at that, all eyes moving to where Seonghwa stands and where the bartender has now fallen to the ground in a state of shock. An airy laugh leaves Hongjoong’s lips, and his head tilts back in amusement.

“You’re hired. Here, old man, some extra credits for your troubles as well as another drink for my new companion here.” Hongjoong slips a credit chip across the counter, eyeing the bartender with wary eyes as he pulls himself back to his feet. The din behind them picks up once more without any issue. “What’s your name and age? You hardly look older than me.”

“Um, Park Seonghwa, sixteen.”

“Kim Hongjoong, sixteen.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be a pirate captain?” Seonghwa asks, head falling to the side in curiosity. Hongjoong pushes himself to his feet and steps around his barstool. He stands far shorter than Seonghwa, but that doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest as he crowds Seonghwa against the counter. The taller boy grabs the wood and leans back over it to put some distance between him in Hongjoong, inhaling sharply as the other pushes further in. Hongjoong’s hands fall on either side of Seonghwa’s and effectively pin him to the counter. Seonghwa has to tilt his head down to see Hongjoong properly, eyes wobbling as one corner of Hongjoong’s lips twists upwards.

“Are we going to have a problem with authority, Seonghwa?” The words are like honey on Hongjoong’s tongue. The taller simply gives a sharp shake of his head. Hongjoong hums to himself, tongue peeking out to drag over the front of his teeth. “I think we’ll get along quite nicely then.” Hongjoong leaves him with one more cruel smirk before pulling back completely and returning to his seat. He motions to the empty space beside him, which Seonghwa fills almost immediately. The bartender returns at that moment, setting new drinks on the counter with a hushed whisper.

“Keep mum about the alcohol, I can’t be going out of business now.”

Hongjoong just smiles and flicks another credit chip over to the man, then raises his glass to Seonghwa.

“To a new partnership.”

“Cheers,” Seonghwa echoes in a mumble, mirroring Hongjoong’s motion.

The man at your side cracks the slightest of smiles.

“To think that at the time, my worst nightmare was merely existing.”

“And now?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

You hardly realize how lost in the memory you are until something resounds behind you, almost like a voice crying your name in the darkness behind that door, and you don’t pay the man at your side any notice before turning to face the wood. It’s clearer now, the voices behind it, the soft mumblings that blossom into something loud and bright, and once you realize who those voices belong to, you waste no time in grabbing the handle and pushing your way into the memory. Seonghwa must notice your movements because he follows close at your heels, although this time it isn’t one of his memories that you step into. It’s something different, something you can’t quite recall but you recognize the faces strewn throughout the room nonetheless.

You’re suddenly back on Eros, home with your unit, all of them except for Hyunwoo. Jisung stands over a table that is littered with maps and old papers as the others stand around him.

“Why are you leading this when it’s not your place, Jisung?” Juyeon is the one to pose the question, and you can’t keep from just staring at his features to drink in the sight of him since it’s been so long since you last saw him before you like this. “We all agreed to appoint Hyunwoo as leader, even you.”

“Hyunwoo isn’t here, is he?” Jisung snarls, reeling on his friend with a fire in his eyes. “He’s off mooching with the generals because they love him so fucking much! He doesn’t have to worry like the rest of us do; he’s no pathetic runt like the rest of us are.”

“Careful there, Jisung,” Soojin scoffs from Juyeon’s side. Her hair is just as bright and daring as you remember, a stark red that stands out against her skin and accentuates that natural beauty she always held. “That’s your inferiority complex slipping through.”

“What she means is — listen, Sung, I know you want to get this done, but we can’t make plans without Hyunwoo. And frankly… no one is going to follow you.” Juyeon exchanges a quick glance with the woman at his side, then another with the youngest of your troupe, Ash. “Let’s call it a night and wait for Hyunwoo to come back.”

Jisung doesn’t get to speak another word. Juyeon leads the way out of the room, disappearing into the darkness along with Soojin and Ash, and suddenly it’s like you and Seonghwa are left alone with just this weird figment of Jisung. A noise echoes from the corner. You shift to find the source, but when you do, your throat closes in on itself. It’s you. Some version of you, at least, one that you can’t even recognize well because of how young you seem to be. Wide, doe eyes that hold no hurt in them, features not marred by the harshness of your life that followed. Even if you don’t recognize this memory, you know for certain it isn’t one that happened after the ordeal with Hyunwoo and the king.

“You aren’t allowed to leave,” Jisung mutters, barely sparing your younger form a glance. “You can’t leave, Y/N. Out of all people, you have the least right to walk out that door. You’re just like me, just a runt who isn’t good for anything. The two of us need to stick together.”

“What’s the plan then?” She asks, and Jisung grins back at the girl.

“I’ll explain everything.”

“T-This isn’t right,” you choke out, reaching for Seonghwa’s arm. “This never happened. I don’t — I don’t remember this at all.” An odd sense of impending doom overwhelms you as you watch yourself approach the table beside Jisung, and you decide right then that you cannot handle being in this place any longer. You stumble backward, hand hitting the door hard and shoving against it in a desperate attempt to get out of the room.

The new scene you find isn’t any better than the last. Jisung sits in the middle of a monotone room, arms and legs bound to the chair under him. Some tall old man stands in front of his chair and Hyunwoo is at his side, looking as alive as can be, so much so that you choke on air and fall to your knees in an instant. Seonghwa’s hand finds your shoulder and clasps at it to offer some sort of comfort. In the corner opposite where you’re kneeling, the younger version of you is drawn tight into a ball with arms folded around her knees. Hyunwoo pulls away from the man beside him to come closer to the young girl – you, the innocent and young you who didn’t know how cruel the world could be at that point.

“Don’t watch this, Y/N,” Hyunwoo says as he folds an arm around her shoulders.

“Why is this happening? What’s going on? Hyun, I don’t understand why – why is he being punished?”

“Jisung was out of line. He… killed fourteen people. That wasn’t the mission, the mission wasn’t to kill anyone. It was just a simple recon mission. No one was supposed to die, especially not innocent people.”

“And why then are fourteen people dead?” The old man asks. The question is obviously directed at Jisung, but all he offers in response is to spit on the general’s feet with a sneer. The man swings his foot up, catching Jisung in the chin with a sharp kick that sends the younger sprawling across the floor in his chair.

“I did nothing wrong! All I did was get rid of more competition that would stop us later on. People are afraid of us now. Our team is gaining a name for ourselves at last, and you fat fucks in power feel just as threatened as the rest of society, don’t you? We’re fearsome now. Ruthless, bloodthirsty, cruel. That’s what we’re known for.”

The old man presses his foot down hard on the side of Jisung’s face and leans over his body.

“That isn’t what you’re supposed to be known for. You are part of the military. You are supposed to obey the law and uphold the rules like everyone else. Not murder innocent people who weren’t even in the crossfire!”

Jisung’s eyes blaze with unbridled rage, bringing a bit of a crazed gleam to his dark orbs.

“They called Y/N a runt! A useless slave! I’m supposed to sit back and allow that disrespect to happen? They had to pay for their crimes! They were far from innocent.”

You turn to Seonghwa, desperate for him to help you to your feet and get you out of this hell, but as you move, his face bleeds to white. Next thing you know, the ground disappears out from under you and you enter a freefall. A brilliant blood-red moon shines above you, taunting you with its glow as you drop, and it grows smaller and smaller the further down you fall. Your freefall only stops when you collide harshly with a body of water, and the black waters swallow you up and pull you under with no resistance. You thrash against the darkness, fighting your way to swim back up to the surface, but it’s to no avail because you can’t move. Something constricts your throat, chokes the air out of your lungs, and you watch helplessly as air bubbles float up to the surface without you.

Something sharp closes around your ankle. Looking down offers no help because of how dark the waters are. You have no time to tug away from it before it pulls you down further, and the red light of the moon grows fainter and fainter with each passing second. As a last-ditch effort, you push all the air in your lungs into a scream that rings through the water. And that must do the trick, because as the sound pulses through the lake, something blindingly bright appears above you like a small beacon of hope in the night. It grows larger as it swims closer to where you continue to sink, and just as it starts coming into focus, whatever has a hold on your foot lets go of you as though burned. Hands wade through the murk to cradle your face, soft thumbs combing over your cheeks, and the light dulls just enough for you to see the face of your savior.

And when you do, your heart nearly quits functioning right then and there because it’s none other than Wooyoung who floats above you, hair bright and glowing a soft lavender around his head. His cheeks are puffed full of air and his eyes are so wide that they look like round gems in the glittering light. He doesn’t speak, nor does he give you any indication whatsoever of what is going on; all the man does is slip his hands lower to fold around your waist before he begins to swim back up to the surface. The lack of air in your system has you reeling and dizzy, along with the overwhelming confusion that radiates through your body as well.

When the two of you finally breach the surface of the water, you are close to losing consciousness. The sudden intake of fresh oxygen keeps you conscious for now, and you let your body go completely limp in Wooyoung’s grasp as he pulls you to the edge of the water. The light from his hair fades back into a muted black, wet strands clinging to his forehead and neck. You only bring yourself to use your muscles again once you reach the shallows, knees coming to rest on the sand so you can sit up straight and face the man. He doesn’t wait even a second before clasping your face in his hands again.

“I know you,” he chokes out, voice too thick with emotion for your liking. The statement is startling enough as it is, although you have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t merely mean he knows you as Y/N L/N. “The girl who appeared in my dreams for years. The – the one I couldn’t reach. I can finally see you. Y/N, I…”

“Wooyoung has had an incessant dream for years now — all the years I’ve known him actually — of a girl drowning in a black lake. He watches her head go underwater but can’t make out her features well enough to recognize her. He dives in to save her, swims to grab her, does everything he can to save him, but something always pulls her deeper and deeper. He can never reach her. He can never hear her screams. He can never see her face. All he can do is reach out for her hand and that’s it.”

“I finally found you, Umiko.” Something about the way Wooyoung speaks and the glistening tears in his eyes brings you to tears yourself, a choked sob forcing its way out of your mouth for some reason unbeknownst to you. The moment leaves too soon.

A hand grasps your shoulder and yanks you back before you know it, tearing you away from Wooyoung’s grasp. Your attacker solidifies it with a kick to the center of your chest, and you slam back against the shallows. Daichi stands above you, a rage to his aura that you have never felt before. That’s all the warning you get from him. He swings his foot back down at your head this time, and you roll away from the attack only to be swung at by his fist.

“Why are you doing this?” You yell as you dodge the powerful attacks as best you can.

“Tsukio is the Siren I warned you about, you fool!” Daichi shouts back, heel clipping the edge of your shoulder. The comment puts enough confusion in you for him to gain the upper hand, and he hits the side of your head with the back of his hand. “Do you not remember? ‘Someone near you is a dangerous threat, one that you’ve never encountered before. You must be careful. Guard yourself wisely.’”

Daichi pushes you flat against the sand and clasps his hands around the middle of your throat.

“Tsukio can find you anywhere, even while far away! This mental connection you share, this link — the two of you are a dyad, a yin and a yang, a pair that cannot be severed. No matter how far apart you are, the two of you will always be able to come back to each other.”

“Come – come back? W-What do you mean?” The pressure around your throat increases just enough for you to cough, but you continue to push words out of your mouth like your life depends on it. “Did I know him before? Did I know Wooyoung somehow? That d-dream. Was it truly a dream or w-was it a memory?”

“I’ve always told you that you were something unique and special, Umiko.” Daichi squeezes harder, and black spots fill the edges of your vision. “You assumed I meant that it was your identity as a Siren and were too bitter to listen to anything I told you. Both you and Kazuya should not pry for more answers. I will tell you absolutely nothing.” With that, Daichi pushes your head under the water, and it’s just deep enough for you to not be able to breathe. “Consider this to be your one and only warning, Umiko. Next time, I will end you.”

You jolt back into a state of full consciousness by choking on air and throwing your body upright. The room swirls for several seconds before coming into focus, and you find yourself seated on the floor beside Seonghwa’s bed with no recollection of falling off at any point. There is a body in front of you and another on your left side, but their faces don’t process in your mind until you’ve caught your breath a bit. It’s Jongho at your side, who presses a hand to your sweat-slick forehead with so much concern in his eyes that it’s overwhelming, and Yunho is knelt by your feet with a similar expression of concern.

“Wh-Why are you here?” You ask, throat burning from the few words. Yunho glances over at Jongho, and the pair exchange unspoken words in their eyes.

“You pinged all our wristbands, Y/N. Called through the comms and said you needed help and that Seonghwa wouldn’t wake up,” Yunho murmurs.

“Where? Where is Seonghwa?” Yunho motions towards the bed on your right, and you peer over the mattress to find Seonghwa sitting at the opposite edge of the bed with his head in his hands and elbows propped on his knees. Yeosang is in front of him, squatted to be eye level with the man, and he rests a hand atop one of Seonghwa’s knees.

“Seonghwa… when we came in, his body was in a state of shock, and his heart w-wasn’t — he was completely unresponsive. I almost couldn’t get him awake at all. On top of everything else we’re dealing with, why does this have to happen too?” Yunho drops his chin and exhales a shaky laugh. It’s a haunting reality that Seonghwa almost died in his sleep because of Daichi and his warning, but nothing ever felt quite as real as it did this time. “This must be some sort of bad omen.”

Yunho drops a hand to your leg before pushing himself to his feet. He steps around the bed and makes a beeline for Seonghwa now, leaving you in Jongho’s care for the time being.

“What the hell happened?” Jongho asks once Yunho is out of earshot.

“I… it was – just a bad nightmare.” You can’t look Jongho in the eye when you speak the lie, too ashamed to even be lying in the first place, and it’s only when your gaze wanders around the room a bit that you realize one person in particular isn’t present. “Where’s Jisung?”

“We saw him to a spare bedroom after dinner, so I’d assume he must still be in there.”

“He didn’t come out with the commotion?”

“What could he do even if he did?” Jongho shrugs a bit and lets his hand drop to your shoulder. He makes a good point in his statement, and it’s enough to shut you up and not prod the subject further.

“I need Seonghwa to the medbay with me so I can run some sleep tests and make sure everything is normal in the brain and heart,” Yunho states, peeking over to where you and Jongho are still seated. “Y/N, I’m a bit concerned about you not remembering calling for help, so I’d like you to—”

“No,” you interject, swallowing roughly. Yeosang looks at you over Seonghwa’s shoulder, and your eyes meet for the briefest of moments. He inclines his chin a bit as though trying to tell you something, but you can’t decipher what the hell he’s trying to say in the slightest.

“Jongho, you help Seonghwa to the medbay with Yunho. I’ll stay with Y/N for the time being.” Yeosang’s suggestion seems to catch everyone off-guard, including you, but based on the look in his eyes, there’s something else going on so you can’t find it in you to fight it. Jongho glances down at you.

“Is that – will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Jongho, I promise,” you murmur back, placing a hand over where his rests on your shoulder. “Go with Seonghwa and make sure he’s okay first. I just feel exhausted right now honestly.”

“Okay, if you need anything—”

“I’ll call you, Jongho. Okay?” You press a weak smile onto your lips. The Berserker seems content enough with your words, and he helps you to your feet before stepping around the bed to do the same for Seonghwa. You sink back onto the mattress almost immediately, watching with a heavy heart as Jongho loops Seonghwa’s arm around his shoulders and helps carry the man out of the room. You wait to speak again until after the door slips shut and leave you alone with Yeosang. “What happened?”

“You didn’t call the others right away,” he says, tone so quiet you have to lean in to catch it. “Wooyoung called me asking for help.”

“Wooyoung — he what? In m-my body?”

“Yes, I thought – I thought it was a joke at first but he confirmed it was him, so I came over as quickly as I could. He said that you were crying out for his help so loudly that he passed out to come to you. Did you go to his body?”

“I was unconscious the entire time. But Wooyoung… he came to me in my dream.”

“Wooyoung was brief in his explanation to me, but he seems to think that it can only happen when one of you needs help too. He only heard you when you needed him, and he said that just before you came to him the first time in the cell… he was crying out for some sort of help. Then you showed up.”

“No, I don’t mean that he came to my body in my dream,” you say as you push yourself further onto the bed and face Yeosang head-on. “I was drowning in a black lake, and Wooyoung saved me.”

“His dream?” Yeosang’s expression melts into one of shock. He draws his lips into a tight ‘o’ then stares down at the floor. “He mentioned finding someone. He kept ranting on and on about how he finally found her. I was trying to get him to focus on the issue at hand, but he just wanted to talk about that.”

“But he didn’t wake me up. How did he help then?” Perhaps he was trying to pull you out of the dream before Daichi interrupted. But Wooyoung couldn’t have possibly been in your body at the same time that he was in your dream, so it must have happened after Daichi attacked you since Yeosang said Wooyoung mentioned finding you.

“It wasn’t about helping you, Y/N,” Yeosang whispers. He glances down at the spot where Seonghwa was just seated. “You asked him to help you save Seonghwa.” It hits then that as you were fighting for your life between drowning in a lake without relief and being attacked by Daichi, your subconscious was only worried about whether Seonghwa was okay or not. “He had to take control to call for help, but before he called me, he pulled Seonghwa’s body out of shock at least enough to get his heart going again. He stalled the shock long enough to get Yunho over here after talking to me first. He called the rest through your wristband after. Something must have happened on his end though because as soon as he finished speaking, your body dropped and went unconscious again.”

“Did Seonghwa mention what he saw?” You inquire, but a large part of you is too afraid to hear the answer.

“You weren’t with him?”

“We… were separated at some point.”

“He didn’t say anything about what he saw, but he was too shaken up to even speak. One would think that based on the visceral reaction his body had, it was something far beyond his worst nightmare.” Your body moves before your mind does, and you are suddenly on your feet again upon hearing Yeosang’s words. He regards you with a puzzled stare for a moment, eyes watching you move around the bed and to the door on unsteady feet. “Where are you going?”

“I need to talk to Jisung. I… I have some questions about my past.”

✧✧✧ a/n: hi hi HI guess WHO yeah its me its been a minute im SORRY this chapter just did not want to cooperate no matter what every time i sat down to write until today it was like No. but then i hit my stride and wrote like 6k today oopsie anyway hi info dump im so sorry about how much info there is in this one and sldfjlsdkf there’s a lot of backstory and symbolism and im afraid it’s a Mess but it iz what it iz so we’re rolling with it and im kinda delirious so that’s All i’ll say so yeehaw let me know how you feel what you think i love u all!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @felixity @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side

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#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mists of celeste #mingi x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #ateez angst fluff smut #ateez series #ateez pirates #ateez space pirates

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thedeathdeelers · 4 years

Note

Okay just because I fucking love your writing unmm something about Julie maybe reflecting on how Luke was brought to her, by the universe or her mom etc, and just fucking soulmate fluff. I loved your religion drabble btw!!

thank you so much!!!🥰

sorry for the delay :$ but i hope you like it!! (ps it turned out to be way longer than i anticipated, so, ya)

pps: you can now find this on my AO3 🤗

——

i think i dreamed you into life

It was a Julie & Luke writing session, just like any other. They were sat, hunched over their shared journal on the faded black couch, too absorbed by the words and notes scribbled on the pages in front of them to pay any attention to anything else.

Julie had just had an epiphany, finally finding the right words to lead them into the chorus following the first verse. With a stiff neck and a cramping hand, Julie stretched her arms over her head, sitting up for a second before collapsing back onto the back cushions of the couch. She heaved a large sigh, looking around and only just registering the low setting sun. They had somehow managed to lose track of time, again, spending well over what she assumed was 4 hours working on this one song. She shook her head, a small smile on her lips as she looked back at her writing partner, still fully focused on the journal in his lap.

They were so alike sometimes, it scared her a little. How could they be so perfect for each other when they were never meant to meet? Cross paths? She often found herself wondering about the way they were brought together, the reasons they were in each others’ lives. But then as soon as her mind wandered towards the mysteries of the universe and its guiding powers, she always ended up spiraling - no matter how she looked at it, Luke and her were somehow meant to be. Fated. Star crossed....whatever.

Her train of thought would always start off innocently enough - she was part of a ghost band. She could see ghosts (well three particular ghosts, at least) - the only lifer who could without Caleb’s help (as far as Willie could tell). She had never really been one to believe in the supernatural, but she was now so intrinsically involved, that she frequently wondered whether everything about her life wasn’t just a dream. Maybe after years & years of practice, she had managed to hone in her daydreaming skills to a point that allowed her to create a world that sounded a little too much like she was the protagonist in a movie or a show. This couldn’t actually be real life, could it? Her life?

The couch shifted, Luke reaching over to grab his guitar, testing out a line before placing his guitar back on the ground, and crossing out a whole section. No, she doesn’t think her mind could have ever managed to dream up Luke.

Don’t get her wrong, there were definitely moments where Julie felt just as normal as she used to. She’d forget that the boys were anything other than her lovable, goofy bandmates. Normal teenage boys, messing around and playing music in her mom’s studio. But then she would look up and see bright hazel eyes staring back at her, and she‘d unexpectedly be hit again by the storm of emotions that washed over her the first time she had accidentally walked through Luke. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She had felt cold, then warm, and then this peculiar feeling of being....whole. Like she had just come home after a long tiring trip. She couldn’t describe it properly even if she tried, but the only thing that came close to summing it up was home.

Julie closed her eyes, trying to recreate the feeling, bringing it back up to the surface.

Her logical side knew soulmates was just a term used to romanticise romance, she knows that, but whenever she remembers that feeling, just like she is now, she wonders whether she had somehow felt his soul in that kitchen - sneaked a peek before latching onto it. These thoughts made it harder to hold onto logic.

Ugh, she was spiralling again. Julie lifted her hands to her face, rubbing furiously at her eyes, trying to dislodge some of the thoughts clouding her mind. She could feel a headache coming on, and that was the last thing she needed right now. She rolled her head back, resting against the old cushions, and looked at the floating chairs on the ceiling.

Her mother. Didn’t her mother always tell her that there was more to the world than meets the eye? That it wasn’t always wise to think only with one’s mind, but to trust your gut, your heart?

It used to be comments like those that led Julie to believe that her mother was more than just her mother. Could Rose have been an angel in disguise all along? Fate, Love, personified? Julie would be lying to herself if she said she had never thought about her mother being the key instigator behind the boys’ presence in her life. She just somehow knew that Rose had handpicked these boys, and sent them to her. Sent Luke to her. She had known that Julie would need divine intervention to pull herself out of her slump, and who better to do that than the one person, the one soul in the universe that perfectly aligned with hers?

Julie rolled her head to the side once more, staring at Luke’s profile, his brows drawn, deep in thought. If he hadn’t died all those years ago, if he hadn’t eaten that unfortunate hotdog, this never would have been possible - they never would have met. Julie shuddered at the thought, her heart and soul aching in protest.

A connection of heart, mind and soul, her mother had told her. “They really do exist, mija” she‘d say, but Julie would only smile and nod, never truly believing that soulmates were real, that they were part of the universe’s grand design. But now-

Oh. Soulmates.

“Did you say something?”

Startled, Julie blinked herself out of her daze, realising too late that she was thinking out loud.

“N- no, no, nothing. Just uh- just thinking of the next verse, you know,” she chuckled awkwardly, avoiding Luke as she tried not to fidget. “Always working!” She pointed to her temple, immediately regretting the movement, cringing at her awful attempt at a cover up.

She could feel Luke’s unwavering gaze, focused on her as he sat up, pushing the journal onto the seat next to him. He shifted, turning towards her, even as she continued to face forward. Her cheeks were definitely getting warmer. Not good.

“Did you-” she saw him tilt his head to the side from the corner of her eye, “did you just say Soulmates?”

A lie was on the tip of her tongue, ready to burst, but as she reflexively slid her eyes to meet his, the words died out before they could be vocalised.

He was looking at her with a peculiar look in his eyes, a slightly awed expression etched on his face.

“I- I was just thinking...” She stuttered, unable to take her eyes off of Luke’s, even as her fingers fiddled with the loose threads of her jumper.

“About?”

“You know,” she lifted her hands, gesturing at the space around them, trying to be as vague as possible. “Life.”

Eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his orange beanie.

“Life? Really?”

“Yes. Life. Just..you know, how things change. Like the way you grow up thinking one thing but then something happens and it completely changes the way you see the world around you, the way your beliefs...shift.” She shrugged, trying and failing to seem nonchalant.

“Hm, deep thoughts for a Saturday afternoon.” He studied her for a second, before cocking his head to the side. “Any reason this led to the conclusion of Soulmates?”

Julie shifted uncomfortably, trying hard not to look away even as she felt her cheeks somehow growing even warmer.

“I...I was just thinking about my mom. And things she used to talk about and believe in with a certainty that always...confused me I guess. How could she believe in something so easily, when she couldn’t even see it? Feel it?” Julie diverted her gaze, choosing to look at her mom’s piano instead. Her voice took on a quieter tone, almost reflective as she continued with her new train of thought. “What if she wanted me to believe again? What if she had somehow found a way to not only get music back into my life, but to believe in love and fate and-“ Julie stopped short, her eyes darting back to Luke - his face was now frozen, showing her nothing of what he might be feeling.

Julie suddenly felt very silly.

“Never mind,” she laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off as just silly musings. “My mind was just wandering, but now I’m back and maybe we should just get back to that second verse...” Her voice trailed off, Luke’s face still giving nothing away.

Crap. She just made it weird - this is what she gets for letting her mind go down the rabbit hole that is the universe and its misguided mysteries. Way to go, Julie.

Just as she was about to jump up and flee to her bedroom, hoping that maybe her floor would do her the courtesy of swallowing her up, Julie felt the couch dip further down to her right, Luke’s knee pressing up against her thigh. Resisting the urge to look at him, her eyes flickered to her fingers, to their journal and then back to her mom’s piano.

“You know,” Luke spoke up, voice soft, almost a whisper, “I never gave fate much thought back when I was alive. I always figured a person forged their own fate by believing hard enough in what they wanted and then working even harder to get there.” He reached over, grabbing hold of her right hand, ceasing the fidgeting motions of her fingers. “Even when it came to my soul, I only ever considered it when thinking about music and the power it had over me and my life. If music was so important, wouldn’t it mean my soul was constantly connected to it? My instrument, an intrinsic part of who I am?”

He went quiet for a few seconds, prompting Julie to turn her head back towards him, as his calloused thumb started rubbing gently against her knuckles. His gaze, which had been glued to her face the entire time, was now locked on their hands.

“So I always figured I was “fated”, I guess you could say, to follow that connection I had with music, and just see where that took me.” His fingers were now tracing little circles on the back of her hand. “But then we died, and became ghosts, and it changed the way I think about things, but at the same, my core beliefs remained the same. I’m still not sure about fate, and the role it plays in how things are dictated in my life, but I know that music is still such a major part of me. Because, I mean, if that wasn’t the case, how could you have possibly pulled me back from the dead and down to earth by playing our song? How could you, a lifer 25 years after I died, have been the one to pull me back, and make me feel alive again?” He shook his head before he continued. “And every time I ask myself these questions I just come back to the same conclusion,” he stops for a second, lifting his eyes back up to hers. “You embody music to me. You, Julie, have always been what my soul was connected to - not my guitar, not just music in general - but you, my own personal musical goddess.” His lips tilted up at the corners at his last words, his eyes boring into hers.

“So yeah, I know what you mean about not necessarily wanting to believe in something unless you can see it or feel it. But at this stage, how could I not believe in soulmates when you’re right here, somehow a part of my life, 25 years after I’ve died?” He shook his head again, his smile getting a little sad. “We technically never should have met, would have never crossed paths, but fate....fate had other plans for us I guess. Our souls just couldn’t bare being separated, and the universe just....found a way to rectify that.”

Julie could do nothing but stare at the beautiful boy in front of her, her mind trying to process the prose he just recited to her. Almost as if by reflex, Julie slowly lifted her hands up, cupping his face and held onto him like he was the most precious thing in the entire world - because he was.

Luke mirrored her actions, his eyes soft, as his fingers traced her cheeks, wiping away tears she didn’t even know were there.

And just as she was about to let loose the words that had been rattling around in her mind ever since he had stumbled into her life, Luke beat her to it.

“I think we might be soulmates, Jules.”

FIN

#ask #jatp #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fics #my fics #ask fics #luke patterson #julie molina #luke x julie #julie x luke #thedeathdeelers fics

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retiredgremlin · 4 years

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is shawn maybe actually psychic pt1

so I just finished watching 6x14, Autopsy-Turvy and that bit in the beginning is very interesting, from 2:13 to 3:15. The bit where Gus lays on the street and Shawn backs up, thinking through the incident presented to them.

Bob White, the victim of the current “case of the week,” was run over by a bus. The bus didn’t see him because a singular street light was out that night. Neat, okay, so Shawn is thinking through that, right?

And then we are shown the light going out, with glass raining down on Shawn, who visually reacts to it. We are shown the shot of where Gus was on the street, only it’s pitch black now. Shawn asks Gus if he’s still there. We get a glimpse of the usual “psychic recreation” then with the bus driving over the spot where the body would have been, showing how the body would be completely invisible. When whatever this is is over, we see the lights come back on and things resume regularity.

I wanna talk about this.

I wanna talk about this because this bit is....unprecedented. I haven’t started my critical analysis yet and I usually need the second pass over a series to burn everything into my memory, but I have no recollection of being shown something like this before.

Typically, we see “recreation visions.” Those show past events and have a grain filter over them, maybe a little desaturation. Notably, Sometimes Shawn’s memories are also shown this way (which hohoheehaaa is a whole ’nother can of fucking worms but let’s stay on track here-)

Let’s do a play by play here.

We are shown the light going out, with glass raining down on Shawn, who visually reacts to it. Shawn states that [the report] says the streetlight directly above the bus stop was out. The camera zooms in on his face before cutting to a set distance away and the light in the scene is shown to flare before we hear the bulb break. The light goes out and glass falls onto Shawn. Shawn is shown physically reacting to the glass with squinting and a slight flinch. The camera zoom and reset indicate a change of scene, despite still just watching Shawn. The following events are presented to us as a physical change to the environment, one that is shown to interact with Shawn who is reacting to this change.

The place on the street where Gus is laying is now in total darkness. Gus is now obscured as there is no light. This further enforces the physical shift to the environment. This also implicates that Shawn can no longer see Gus, just as we no longer see Gus. Shawn then cocks his head to the side, accompanied by a sound suspense sound cue. This body language is often used in media to convey confusion, curiosity, or inquisition. As someone who does this irl, I use it as a visual cue that I’m listening/paying attention if I’m unable to make eye contact during the conversation. At the very least, removing conjecture, it’s a reaction to a stimulus, indicating attention of some sort.

Shawn asks Gus if he’s still there. This is when this starts to hit home, right? This statement all but confirms that Shawn is no longer seeing Gus on the ground at all. This also confirms that what we the audience are seeing is something Shawn is experiencing in that moment. Shaw cannot see Gus currently and thus he asks for a verbal confirmation. We hear Gus respond, exasperated, saying Shawn can damn well see his face on the asphalt. Except Shawn can’t. Instead Shawn is seeing the space as though one of the lights was punched out. Shawn then comments by saying, “That’s interesting.” This is a verbal acknowledgement of what is visually happening in the scene right now. What precisely about this scene is interesting? We could easily infer the explicit lack of a visual Gus while still hearing Gus. Otherwise, why ask if Gus was still there? Notably, Gus’s response reinforces that he is not experiencing the change to the environment that Shawn and the audience are, as he is not reacting to it.

The usual psychic recreation kicks in to show us the bus running through the dark patch. Cue the typical grain filter of the scene. These visuals clearly mark the shift from real-time to flashback/past events, as the show has trained us to read this visual. This is also what we normally see when a scene is revealed to us or facts come together. The show could have just as well have shown us this flash without showing the dark street real-time, but they didn’t Why? Why is this different? Why does this call for a different kind of visual? I would assume because this is different somehow.

The recreation ends and we see the light come back on. The flashback recreating is over and simultaneous with the scene shift back to Shawn’s face, we see the light coming back in again and zooming out from Shawn’s face, mirroring how the scene started. This marks the end of whatever moment was happening.

Taking all of this into consideration, what conclusion are we left to draw from this short scene? Shawn experiences what we just saw: he sees the light flare, hears the bulb break, feels the glass fall around him, and sees the street as though this street light was out. It’s not as though it’s recreating something though, or imitating how a light would have actually burst. The light flares before popping, mimicking how a light would act when it dies. The filament grows thin and puts off a super flash as the filament breaks.

This does not mean the fucking glass shatters though. Conversation does indicate that the light being broken is why it was out the night Bob White was run over though. This is piece of the....”vision,” shall we call it, imitated what would have happened. But for the light to both flash and break? Unless I’m terribly mistaken, it’s usually one or the other that will put a bulb out of commission, not both. This lends additional credence to this being an unnatural occurrence. Given the glass shatters after the flash, to would indicate to me that the light dying somehow lead to the glass breaking? Either way, it’s a bit extreme and unusual, which plays into the entire strangeness of the scene.

It’s like is someone grabbed the space around them and metaphysically punched the street light. Somehow Shawn is experiencing a manipulation of the space around him, enough to alter what he’s sensing in a targeted and specific manner.

Now sure, we could just say what this scene was meant as: a visual built to communicate to the audience what is going on. Psych likes to show us how a situation is being assessed, what information Shawn is taking in and processing. But where’s the fun in that, especially with how they chose ground this short experience through having Shawn experience it.

You want to know something else I find very interesting here?

Shawn’s response is mild.

Listen, I dunno about you, but I probably would have had more reaction to a bulb over my head suddenly bursting and throwing glass at me. I probably would have had more to say if I suddenly wasn’t seeing light when there was light in front of me, especially if it wasn’t that I suddenly lost all sense of light, but that a singular light suddenly and magically seemed to turn off.

Guess Shawn wouldn’t though! He takes this all fairly well in stride. There are two major possibilities here. One is that he’s more focused on the case than anything else so he mentally dismisses whatever is happening and proceeds until it goes away. There is precedent to him acting this way when he gets fixated on something, but we’re not seeing many signs of that here. Option two is that the reason Shawn barely reacts is that this not new or overly concerning because he is aware it is not real.

Shawn certainly recognizes what’s happening as unusual, but he is not panicked or caught off guard. When asking if Gus is still there, his voice does not betray anything strange. He is simply affirming. His “that’s interesting” comment also expresses no concern and he does not dwell on this occurrence, simply makes use of it. This leads me to believe that this is not the first time Shawn has experienced something like this. Something where he needs to see something in a different light (ha), and it just happens. We are not shown this prior because the show had no reason to concoct this sort of occurrence before now, as most investigation could be done through the physical clues given in the state they were in. This is new for the audience, but this is presented as something that isn’t really that new to Shawn.

The thing is, the vision is accurate. The vision is not an exaggeration or unrealistic distortion of the space. It is the space as is, except as if the light went out. Not that suddenly everything went dark or that he can’t see anything. To see the space as it would be with one thing different, especially when that one thing is something that interacts with everything in the space? That’s...something.

Let’s not forget the cinematography and sound cues though. With the scene starting up, we get real close and personal with Shawn’s face before the camera cuts to where it’s zoomed out again. Well, what does a camera cut indicate? Typically the shot is focused on the character relevant to the scene, whatever you should be seeing to line up with what’s happening. We were already looking at Shawn though, so what purpose does this cut serve? They wanted to shift the perspective we were viewing Shawn with. This cut indicates a change to the scene. Directly following this cut, the light bursts. This cut signified the shift from reality into the vision. When the scene was over, the camera cuts to Shawn’s face and is zooming out, clearly outlining the end of the vision. This explicitly bookends the start and stop to the strange phenomena.

As for the sound, we hear a back and forth piano tune leading up to the start of the vision. It starts just as Shawn is backing up from Gus laying down on the street and continues through Shawn noting that the report says the streetlight was out and fades as the glass shatters and finishes falling. This is a leadup, a lead in, an indication of something eerie going on. It lets the audience experience a moment of strangeness as the music disappears when we look back and see the street is dark with no Gus. We get a short violin sting to punctuate Shawn cocking his head and the recognition of something wrong here. When get a softer, deeper version of that sting as Gus responds, accentuating something even stranger going on. As Shawn lifts his arms to mimic a bus steering wheel, get a short orchestral bit that strings into the recreation of the bus driving over Bob White and concludes with the vision. This feels like a carry through, a dramatic reveal piece.

These shots and sounds of this scene do everything to accentuate that something fucking weird is happening here. Please note that I have an education in art, not cinematography or music, so I can give an interpretation of them as a critical consumer, but I cannot speak speak to them in the manner of a trained and educated professional. Take my opinions there with a grain of salt.

What is all of this then? How does this happen? What is this scene telling us?

I have 2 ideas.

1.) His eidetic memory is able to be used to create hyper realistic visualizations wherein the space can be manipulated.

2.) This is a preternatural vision and Shawn has latent psychic abilities.

Honestly, these possibilities can coexist with each other, and maybe they should?

This scene is deliberate, is the funny thing. The way is was shot, the way it was presented, the way the characters interact. Nothing here is a mistake, but it’s out of left field as a totally new way to observe a crime scene from anything else they’ve shown in the series. (I have only seen up to this episode, so if there’s another incident after 6x14, then neat, I’ll dissect that to when I get there.)

In conclusion, this scene leads me to believe Shawn has the ability to see, or is subject to the phenomena of seeing, space in a manipulated manner. The space mimics reality and reacts like reality, where variable can be arranged and shifted. Evidence from this incident would indicate these shifts are based on what Shawn is currently thinking about or puzzling through, showing him the scene the way he needs to see to it rather than how it necessarily is.

I, personally, would like to think this points to genuine latent preternatural abilities that tie into his eidetic memory and how that exists. Mostly because I think it’s fun that the show about the fake psychic is actually a show about a sort of psychic who doesn’t realize he’s actually sort of psychic while pretending to be a psychic. I think is an incredibly fun take to explore. Which I will later because I have a working idea of how this all connects in and functions but this has gone a bit long for a dissection of what is a minute or less bit at the beginning of a single episode.

This is the prologue to my TED Talk: “Shawn Spencer is probably psychic” and in this presentation I will-

#psych #shawn spencer #this got long oops #but this is giving me so many ideas #it really is a damn shame i can't find more fics that have shawn actually be psychic #notably i will be writing my own in due time #the way im thinking of him being psychic isn't the way he's pretended to be psychic tho #please bear with me through this and future installations #but like yo #what the fuck is this scene #what were they trying to tell us #aside from the fact shawn's brain is impossible or that this boy is actually fuckin psychic #i'll never get real answers on this and im not sure if it's better that way or not #because if they give me no answers #i get to make up my own #mine #analysis

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years

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Geralt is having a bad day. He's been travelling non-stop for over a week and between the monsters and Jaskier's incessant flirting, he's exhausted. It's not that he minds, per se; if he did, he would have left Jaskier behind years ago. But since he admitted to himself - begrudgingly - that Jaskier was, in fact, a friend - and very probably something more - it’s much more difficult to deal with Jaskier’s flirting.

And now he's fulfilled a contract early which in and of itself is not a bad thing, but he's hopped up on potions and feels like he's crawling out of his skin. The villagers, he's sure, meant to help when they stepped in. And they did, but Geralt didn't want help - he wanted to take his anger and frustration out on the beast and return to the town for a hot bath.

He's still planning on the bath, but getting paid for his work is going to have to wait. In his experience, returning to a client looking like he does know never results in a repeat contract. And Geralt needs as much coin as he can get.

They let him into the bathhouse, but only because Geralt knows the man at the door, had saved his wife from a stray drowner a few years back. He fills the tub himself and heats it with igni before stepping in and sinking into the water. He shuts his eyes and sighs, trying to calm the storm in his mind. His peace lasts for all of five minutes before his fingers twitch against the side of the tub and his muscles ache to stretch and move.

Sighing angrily, Geralt pushes himself up out of the tub and crosses the room to find his clothes. He'll have to return to the inn because he can't just take off without letting Jaskier know, but he can't stay here any longer. He needs to move. Jaskier will be upset with him. They've both been looking forward to a break and a warm bed, but it's going to have to wait.

When he gets back to the inn, he keeps out of sight but a few people catch a glance at him and cower in response. One even goes as far as running to the innkeeper to tell him. So Geralt is tense and irritable already and when he opens the door to their room, his patience reaches its limit.

Jaskier is sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg folded under him, naked except for one of Geralt's shirts hanging off his shoulders. The scent hits him first and heat rolls through his body, lingering at the back of his neck. He shuts his eyes to at least relieve himself of the image of it, but his mind recreates it for him behind his eyelids.

"Geralt-" Jaskier starts, quick, panicky.

"I'm not mad," he grits out and Jaskier's footsteps stop. "Take it off."

Geralt can hear the sharp intake of breath and he can only hope Jaskier doesn't realize what's going through his mind right now. It's not his fault Jaskier looks so damn good in his clothes and it's not his fault he smells like heaven. And normally it wouldn't be this bad, but he can hear every hitch in Jaskier's breath, smell the faintest changes in his emotions and right now he stinks of lust and something not unlike embarrassment.

He makes no attempt to comply with Geralt's request, though, and Geralt's eyes snap open, careful to meet Jaskier's and hold his gaze.

"Take it off," he growls. Jaskier smirks at him and the scent of lust in the air spikes.

"Make me," Jaskier says and he says it so quietly Geralt doesn't think he's supposed to hear him. His feet move without his permission, hands pressing against Jaskier's chest as he reaches him. He doesn't stop until Jaskier's back hits the wall, his breath coming too quickly, his heart thudding heavily in his chest.

"What did you say?" Geralt hisses and Jaskier just tilts his head and grins at him.

"If you want it back, take it."

Geralt's hands move roughly and he tries to tell himself this is a bad idea. Leave. Leave the room and go somewhere else. Anywhere else. Even if he gets the shirt off of Jaskier, it's going to continue to smell like him and gods it smells so fucking good on him. Geralt's fingers graze Jaskier's bare skin, holding his breath and focusing so hard not to break his control.

He wants to touch, but he keeps his hands back, only barely letting his fingers brush skin as he lifts the cloth up. But faint touches seem to be enough and Jaskier's soft sighs are too much. Geralt gets the shirt up and over his head, holding it out behind him. Jaskier reaches out to him and Geralt drops the shirt instantly, pressing Jaskier's hands against the wall above his head.

He doesn't trust himself now and at his most controlled he struggles to refute the bard's advances. He looks ahead and Jaskier catches his eyes. His pupils are wide, but his eyes are bright with devilish glee and want. And Geralt aches with unspent energy and a need to please.

"Fuck."

Before he realizes what he's doing, his lips are pressed against Jaskier's, stifling a soft groan that goes straight to Geralt's cock. Jaskier responds enthusiastically, reaching to tangle his fingers in Geralt's hair and every inch of him is pressed against him. Belatedly, Geraly realizes that this is his doing and he rips himself away.

"I could hurt you," he breathes, eyes lowered to the floor. Jaskier doesn't let go of him.

"You won't."

"I will. I don't want to hurt you, Jaskier. I don't think I could hold back."

Jaskier presses closer, pushing himself off the wall and one of his hands wanders. He brushes gentle fingers along the side of Geralt's face and Geralt presses into the touch instinctively. His pulse settles a little at the gentleness of it and Geralt's eyelids flutter.

"Maybe not then," Jaskier breathes. "I want you to enjoy being with me. I don't want you to force yourself." Geralt's head jerks up to look at him.

"I'm not," he insists and Jaskier smiles softly.

"Not what I meant, darling. Pass me that shirt?"

Bad idea, Geralt thinks, but he detangles himself from Jaskier and bends to pick the article up from the floor. Jaskier takes it gently and pulls it back over his head, despite the fire still burning in his eyes.

He guides Geralt toward the bed, sitting him on the edge of it and dropping to his knees. For a moment, Geralt's pulse spikes, but the scent wafting off Jaskier is softer now, the thick spice of lust lingering in the background.

Jaskier lifts one leg at a time, pulling Geralt's boots off and setting them aside. He climbs up onto the bed next to him and Geralt follows him with his gaze, watching as Jaskier lifts the pillow and leans them against the wall. He settles back into them and runs his hands over Geralt's shoulders, encouraging him to move back with him. Geralt moves, slowly pressing himself back between Jaskier's legs.

He shuts his eyes and lets himself be drawn back, so he's pressed against Jaskier's chest, his head resting on his shoulder. Jaskier is still aroused and it's distracting. He can't smell it anymore, but he can feel the press of him against his back and he groans with the desire to touch him.

"Sorry," Jaskier breathes, "just relax."

Geralt snorts at him and Jaskier slips his fingers through his hair, running his fingertips along his scalp. It's calming, but Geralt struggles to quell the adrenaline still raging within him. He lets Jaskier pet him and rub his shoulders and it helps. He focuses on the press of his fingertips and the soft rise and fall of Jaskier's chest under him and he settles.

It takes some time, but the colour slowly returns to his skin, the black veins retreating. He breathes normally again and Jaskier buries his nose in his hair. As he starts to sing, Geralt rolls his head to face him, looking up through his lashes. Jaskier curses under his breath and smiles down at him so softly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mmm."

"Good. Do you want supper?"

Geralt shakes his head, pulling Jaskier's arm over his chest. He shifts and presses his nose into Jaskier's neck, inhaling his scent. He reaches up to brush his fingers along the other side of his neck and Jaskier shivers under him.

"Thank you," he whispers. He tips his head up and Jaskier's heart races as he presses their lips together softly. Jaskier is softer, making space for him as Geralt turns in his arms. When Geralt pulls away, Jaskier kisses his forehead and smiles down at him.

"Any time," he breathes, lazily running a hand up Geralt's spine. "You should eat, then later maybe we can think about dessert?" He wiggles his eyebrows and Geralt huffs a soft laugh.

"I don't need to eat," he hums. He slips his arms around Jaskier's waist and leans in again, determined to make the bard forget about the idea of food. He has more important things on his mind.

When he kisses him, Jaskier hums against him and it only takes a moment for the fight to go out of him. The elixirs may have run their course, but Geralt still feels lightheaded. He's warm and content and Jaskier's hands feel hot where they creep under his shirt. He feels nearly drunk, but his mind is clear.

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #posting this here bc i don't have to give it a title #and ao3 requires titles #rex writes

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lesbianbooradleypsued · 4 years

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The Etherian Party Bus: Point Zero

Fandom: She-ra and the Princesses of Power Pairing: Adora/Catra Word Count: 6,898

Summary: As Darla approaches the point of no contact with Etheria, Adora thinks about how they got to this point. Just 7 months ago they'd won the war, and now she doesn't know if her little crew will ever return. Or After the defeat of Hoard Prime, Catra and Hordak were exiled for four years. Adora and Entrapta refused to accept being separated from them for that long, and loaded the two of them on Darla and then set out for parts unknown in space. Adora is currently considering everything that has happened to get them to this point as they are about to leave contact range with Etheria. Catra joins her on the bridge.

Notes: So this is just one part of a series. They'll be posted out of order with the time stamps at the beginning. Haven't written in a long while so have mercy on me. X-posted to AO3 as well.

Tags: Smut, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Biting, Scratching, light bdsm aspects, Top Adora, Bottom Catra, Blow Jobs, Adora Has a Penis, Recreational Drug Use, if i forgot a tag tell me, Fluff, Not Beta Read

Seven Months Out

The rhythmic thump of heavy bass from two floors down on Darla thrummed through Adora's relaxed body like a second heartbeat.

She was shamelessly lounging on the bridge in her Captain's chair in a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, a white tank top, and the comfortable black slip on shoes she wore day to day around Darla. Her right leg was draped over the plush arm of her chair and her left leg was cocked out, resting comfortably on the floor. Her right arm was folded behind her head and her left was lazily holding onto a glass filled with shimmery dark purple liquid that rippled in sync with the bass.

The bridge was dark save for the few ever present blinking red lights on the various dash boards and panels surrounding the six strategically placed seats that now comprised the ship's bridge. All Entrapta and Hordak's designs. It was just those lights and of course the large windows filled with the brilliant kaleidoscope of stars that were reflected in Adora's peaceful hazed over blue eyes.

She was lost in reflection.

In front of her were countless galaxies filled with countless lifeforms and Adora wanted to meet and learn about them all. And hopefully quell that insatiable drive in her that'd been building steadily for the last four months of the exile to just keep going.

Adora finally knew what a passion was now, something not born out of circumstantial upbringing or a sense of duty, but something you do because you want to. She wants to explore further every day just to find out something new, chart new stars, learn about a different species cultures. She wants to see what Catra feels like in her arms there with her through every new experience, so far removed from their prior life. Untethered. She knows very little about the First Ones, most of it not great, but she does know they were explorers. She figures that's where this passion must come from.

Behind her, falling further and further away every second is Etheria. It's so far away now it's no longer visible even at their highest scanning capacity.

After seven months in space, the last four of them spent finally finding out what kind of person she was outside of child soldier/She-ra, Adora's feelings about their abrupt, messy departure from their home planet had managed to settle down between resignation and dull betrayal.

It's still a very tender spot. Her logical brain understands that Catra and Hordak couldn't just escape any type of punishment for their literal war crimes. It wouldn't be fair to the countless lives forever changed by them. She also will begrudgingly concede that it would have been a slap in the face to every citizen of Etheria if Glimmer had just gone against the public demand and pardoned them. She is also begrudgingly grateful that Glimmer had ordered the most minimal punishment she had within her power as Queen.

But four years exile still seemed so long. Too long. Even longer now that she knew what her and Catra actually had. She thought she had loved Catra at seventeen, but that feeling was hardly a single star in the quadrant compared to the way she felt about her now. And she knew that with every day that passed, the feelings were just getting more and more intense. She couldn't imagine going four days without the magicat, four years was absurd.

Less than an hour after the sentencing they had left Etheria in a messy, absolutely traumatic scene on the front lawn of Brightmoon. Two of them were convicted criminals who had just been exiled from Etheria and two of them were Princesses who refused to just accept being parted for four years, the need to rebuild Etheria be damned. And as an extra spicy surprise they found out a couple of months in, that Double Trouble had stole'd away on Darla for reasons Adora was still unclear on. Something about drama and possibly being wanted.

The first few months in space had been a disaster Adora acknowledged, taking a sip of her drink and savoring the smooth herbal flavor. They had been blindly chasing the idea of restoring magic to the universe like it was their assigned mission, and not just a distraction from their current situation.

The immediate space around Etheria, it turned out, was not nice to begin with.

In the month since Prime's demise a power vacuum had opened up in the area. Entire planets were without the resources to rebuild themselves and were more than willing to fight for them, and there were opportunistic ships filled with bandits everywhere. It was chaos.

And they had flown into the middle of all that and loudly pronounced they had killed Prime and were magic.

Que a three month long shit storm.

They all just suffered.

Entrapta retreated into herself, barely coming out of the engine room unless they were under attack or broke down. She had been shaken to the core by her sudden loss of confidence in the friendships she had tentatively built over the last three years. Friendships she thought were built on mutual respect for their unique abilities and qualities. Entrapta knew she was the smart one. But only Adora, Scorpia, Wrong Hordak, and Catra had spoken on Hordak's behalf even though Entrapta provided sufficient evidence that by killing Prime in the way She-ra had, it had changed Hordak in fundamental ways. Yes he was responsible for what he had done, took responsibility for it, but he was also literally a new being.

When She-ra knocked Prime's ass out of Hordak's body and vanquished him, it was like being baptised, exorcised, and reborn simultaneously. All the clones had experienced it. Hoard Prime could not control them even again, could never take control of them again. An order coded into their very DNA that demanded them to conquer all for Prime was obliterated. That drive, an instinct really, had been as deeply ingrained into them as breathing was.

Hordak was not really washed anew like the other clones though. He didn't go from a mindless drone in a hive mind like the others, no, he'd spent thirty years waging war in Prime's name on Etheria. He was now without purpose. He was overwhelmed with emotions he did not know he was capable of that lurched violently from happiness to guilt and more often than not ended up at rage. He spoke very rarely to anyone but Entrapta unless it was to loudly argue with Adora or Catra or both of them.

Adora had spent those first few months just absolutely drenched in anger and bitterness. Her mind circled around all of the hurt that had been caused during the last three years. So much of it was Adora and Catra's. They were hit with traumatic event after traumatic event for three years, after a traumatic as fuck childhood. And against all odds they had escalated and pushed that stalemate of a war to an end where everyone won. And now because apparently they couldn't have nice things, and Adora was not smart, they found themselves in a big galaxy filled with unexpected dangers. And what were they doing? Chasing and dodging said dangers because they were just barreling ahead under her command asking every being they met if they needed their magic topped off. She was being absolutely reckless and every near catastrophe circled back to two thoughts. I'm not good enough and how could Catra love me?

Catra had felt horrible that Adora had just given up her life on Etheria so she could stay with Catra. But she felt downright evil that she had selfishly agreed to it with very little argument. Adora had pointedly told Catra that this was what she wanted. How could she deserve this? After everything that had happened Adora had chosen her? Wanted her by her side to explore this precious thing they'd started? How could she say no? It was hard for anyone but them to understand how much it meant for Adora to say those words aloud. She wanted Catra. She could not actually believe it still. Fought herself against the notion in fact. She spiraled in self hatred and guilt. Which of course meant she lashed out at Adora because that's what she did.

Adora and Catra got stuck in a vicious cycle of fight, avoid, apologize, rinse, and repeat that went on for two months. And then finally after a truly shitty day, even by those early standards, it came to a head. Catra gathered all three of the brain cells aboard Darla and had a big "aha moment". They actually had their first real mostly calm and open discussion about their feelings and baggage in their lives. They also had sex for the first time. It was a really big aha moment.

Adora hadn't thought it was possible to fall more in love with the magicat but she did. After the incident, Catra began opening up in earnest to Adora. She whispered confessions of love and attraction into her ear, began to slowly become more physically affectionate towards her. Adora's focus started to shift from saving the universe to saving them. If Catra was safe, she was calm enough to be vulnerable for Adora, and it turns out Adora needed that vulnerability like fucking oxygen. It made her better, made her feel like she could do anything in the universe she wanted. It made Adora believe that Catra loved her for her, and not for what Adora could do.

So less running around space with her whole ass showing; ending them up in dangerous situations every other day, and more let's just go away from that situation and see what's over there.

But not enough because they all nearly died in a fiery blaze three months in.

Adora had snapped after healing Catra's broken ribs, pointed Darla in the general direction of far away, and gunned it. They'd cleared the small cluster of planets nearest Etheria that they had been nervously darting around for three months, getting their asses handed to them, and just kept going. She just put the whole magical quest on the back burner indefinitely. It wasn't working, was actively endangering them in fact. It was not conducive to a vulnerable safe Catra.

When they were a safe distance away she had hidden the ship in an asteroid field and Meelog cloaked them. And then Adora had turned to Catra and asked her what she thought they should do next. It had been a very wise decision.

Catra had taken control immediately. First she encouraged/ordered Entrapta and Hordak to use their combined intelligence and any means necessary to get Darla up to date and better suited to surviving four years in space. They absolutely ran with it. They'd practically completely redesigned the layout of the ship and had even managed to expand its size over the last four months. Darla was taking on the character of a jigsaw puzzle with all the different colored materials covering her hull now. Double Trouble called it Junker Chic, Adora said she had character.

After that, and another near death experience for Adora, the magicat had proposed becoming diplomats of sorts for Etheria. Space was dangerous Catra pointed out, and that danger would likely come for Etheria again eventually. Having strong ties to planets already established in the quadrant has leaders could only be helpful.

And as her last decision Catra had released Adora from any responsibility except for occasionally parading She-ra out when the situation called for it. Her girlfriend had poked and prodded at the new ember of passion in Adora's heart until it was a raging fire.

It had been an amazing change in their lives.

Still seven months in space and in her heart, Adora was still so raw from the sheer trauma of the entire trial, convictions, and absolutely cataclysmic immediate aftermath. She'd had to carry Catra aboard Darla because the magicat was crying so hard. She felt...betrayed? Somehow used in a way she couldn't express? She had nearly died over and over and over again for Etheria. She nearly lost Catra forever for Etheria. And all they got were two weeks before everything went to absolute shit and strangers who didn't know the full story started demanding Catra's permanent exile. Some had even called for execution despite Etheria not having a death sentence. "Make one" someone had said. Adora had nearly ran them through with her sword.

Adora knows if they are ever gonna return at the end of the exile she's gotta heal more. Has to get to a place where she wants to go back. They all do.

Two decks down, in Darla's expanded cargo bayn the wildest party this side of Etheria was raging on at, what her body believed to be, very very late at night. The beat changed suddenly, becoming more powerful, and it startled Adora out of her musings. The tempo sped up and the bass pounded harder and Adora released a throaty chuckle. Her groin tightened, partly from the vibrations and partly from the effects of the drink coursing through her blood. She took a long swill of her glass and moved to rest her right hand firmly on her lap, rubbing her hardening dick through her pants and sighing in contentment.

The thing Adora lovef most about this aimless explorer diplomatic lifestyle they'd gradually slipped into was the culture they'd shared with scores of different species. The drink in her hand was supplied by the fourteen Chix'eks currently onboard the ship at the moment, who were also supplying the music.

Of all of the species they'd met so far, the Chix'eks are by far Adora's favorite. Tall and willowy bipeds, their shimmery smooth bichromatic scales come in countless color combinations and their facial features remind Adora of a bird of prey. They were also the most sincere, friendly beings Adora has ever met, and their language was beautiful. When Adora had been downstairs with them earlier she had taken her translator earpiece out and just listened to them. It was like glass windchimes in a steady breeze. They also were absolute party animals. Like having a pretty good time was in their specie's nature.

They'd been traveling with this group for the last two weeks for no other reason than they were all going the same direction for a bit.

The Chix'eks were highly intelligent and eager to share their knowledge and learn from Hordak and Entrapta's own wealth of knowledge, Catra and Double Trouble practically fed off of their clever sharp wit and general "we're always at a rave" vibes, and Adora just loves listening to their intricate music and sampling the various mind altering substances they have crafted over several millions of years of inherited knowledge.

Medicine was a specialty craft amongst their species. Their medicine was arguably the furthest advanced in this quadrant of space. The fact that the plants that grew on their home planet could affect every species they had met so far seemed fantastically impossible to Adora. But she had experienced it first hand when she'd contracted some kind of alien plague virus from hell and almost died. It was not a great time. Catra had new nightmares for several weeks. But by chance a group of the scaled beings had happened upon them and saved Adora just cause they could. And then offered to make some introductions to other friendly worlds in that part of space. They'd sparked that explorative vibe.

Oh yeah, and their passion for making addictive free, highly specialized, mind altering substances was a huge bonus.

She was glad they were on board right now providing her strange crew with comrade and the drink in Adora's hand that has allowed her to sit and think in total peace for the last hour. It would probably be one of those nights otherwise. Outside of the moments she spent wrapped up in Catra's arms, where nothing else existed but them, Adora still couldn't ever just relax. It was a little easier these days, maybe because now her mind was usually racing about exciting things, but tense situations brought out her worst self destructive habits.

And they were in a tense situation, party aside.

They were almost at the point in space where they wouldl no longer be able to contact Etheria and Etheria will no longer be able to contact them. Entrapta officially called it Point Zero. As it was, the contact they did have with home had a two week delay. They'd hovered around this point for the last month. They'd even recorded a message telling Etheria they'd be leaving contact range for a while. It was an open-ended goodbye disguised as an update, just in case.

Adora knew the decision to venture out beyond this point was on her shoulders.

Entrapta and Hordak would have loved nothing more than to gain new scientific knowledge so they could continue their shared passion for turning Darla into a flying impenetrable fortress. As well as collecting new tech to bring back to Etheria to modernize the planet.

Double Trouble wad having the time of Their fucking life expanding Their repertoire of mimicry far beyond the limits of Etheria, and raising hell in Their wake for the drama of it all. Their gift for espionage had been especially useful on several occasions as well, either to get them all out of a tight spot, or just to gather information for Adora's research.

And Catra. God Catra had absolutely burst like a supernova away from Etheria. Gone was the self loathing, guilt ridden magicat who was immediately resigned to being torn away from Adora and tossed onto Beast Island because she thought she deserved it.

Catra is thriving in space, completely free of the demons that plagued her on Etheria. She's still as snarky and sharp tongued as ever but nowadays she smiled more often than not. Her eyes were brighter. She purred almost constantly. And they hadn't fought about anything more serious than what to eat for dinner in months.

Catra had slipped into the not exactly legit role of Etherian Ambassador like a second skin. Her skill for strategy and diplomacy were nearly fully responsible for Adora's continued ability to study other species without coming across as some insane space tourist. They'd made real diplomatic ties with other planets because Catra was a strategic genius. All she asked of Adora was to bring out She-ra when the need for "oohs and aware" occasionally arose. A smiling eight foot tall muscled goddess with a sword really topped off a presentation.

Adora had never in her life seen Catra so happy and carefree.

But still all that aside, Catra had made it very clear that where Adora wanted to go, she wanted to go. They were in sync now more than they'd ever been in their lives, more than Adora suspected they could have achieved on Etheria. Their bond seemed impenetrable after seven months of constant reliance on one another, cohabitation, and working through most of their shit. When they moved these days, they moved as one.

Just thinking about her lover made Adora's heart race in her chest and her dick jumped, going from a semi, to rock hard in seconds. She inhaled deeply at the sensation, and downed the last of her drink.

The drink wasn't usually this potent. Adora had been drinking a much lower dosage of it every morning at breakfast for a couple of months. It helped her to concentrate during the day, helped to keep her thoughts from spiraling when things were tense or she felt like she'd messed up. Entrapta had explained brain chemistry to Adora briefly, she got the gist of it. She didn't need to have an in-depth understanding of it to get that it really helped just manage everything.

Tonight's drink though was not about mental health management and all about that really good Chix'ekian time.

She set the empty glass on the small table at her side and shifted so she could pull her hardened cock out of her pants. The drink had a massive effect on her senses and her libido. Everything was so intense. It felt like she perceived time slower.

For example her sense of smell was so heightened now she could smell Catra, knew she was making her way down the hall to the bridge. Her heady earthy aroma was addictive. Adora had only been minutely aware of it growing up, when they were pressed up against each other in their bunk, or claws to sword in battle. She'd never stopped to examine the nature of it, why Catra had such a distinctive scent compared to everyone else. She hadn't understood pheromones. She didn't understand the magicat instinct to mark and claim. She understood now though that Catra was different on a very basic level from Adora. It made Adora love her more.

The door barely made a sound as it opened and closed. Adora stroked herself lazily as she listened to Catra pad softly across the carpeted floor, her eyes still drawn to the wild unexplored space in front of them.

She felt Catra move around her chair and her eyes turned away from the view to watch her girlfriend kneel in front of her lap, rest her head on Adora's thigh, and begin gently running a clawed hand over Adora's exposed stomach, inches away from where Adora was stroking her own dick.

Catra's eyes were wide, pupils blown, and her voice when she spoke was practically sinful. "Hey Adora," she rasped out looking up at Adora as she scent marked her inner thigh. Adora took a deep breath and her lips curled into an absolutely love drunk smile.

"Hey Catra," Adora replied, her free hand immediately going to Catra's cheek and scratching behind her ear.

Her gaze drifted down to Catra's neck, and the thick white collar affixed with a golden o-ring she was wearing. This was a rather recent addition to their relationship and Catra had only ever worn it in their cabin. But she smelt of the woodsy incense the Chix'eks liked to burn and the herbal blend they'd created for Catra to smoke. Which meant Catra was wearing it at the party. Her dick twitched in her hand.

Catra purred at the affection and movedn her hand from the blond's stomach to swat away Adora's hand from her straining dick and began softly stroking it herself. The fine furs on her palms felt amazing to Adora's overly sensitive cock and she groaned with pleasure, head lulling back as she buried her hand in Catra's wild shoulder length hair.

"Those Chix'eks really know their stuff," Catra hummed as she shuffled closer and higher on her knees so she could press a small kiss to the base of the blond's length.

"Feeling good?" Adora asked, chuckling. She tightened her grip on Catra's mane slightly and kept her in place against her dick. She moaned when the corner of Catra's lips pressed momentarily against her balls.

"Feeling great," Catra said before beginning to lick at the hot flesh in front of her face "I'll be bummed when they break off to go home."

"Oh my god same," Adora said laughing and breaking out into a wide smile. Gently she pushed Catra backwards and sat upright in her chair, kicking her shoes off and to the side.

"You know," Catra said as Adora pulled her back towards her lap, "we're about ten minutes till we're out of range."

She might have said it conversationally but Adora knew Carta was nervous about Adora's decision. But Adora was not. Just like she wasn't nervous when she leapt into the darkness in Prime's ship, just like when she chose to spend some well deserved time with the love of her life over "duty", and just like the time she gave Catra control of their situation.

Adora pushed Catra back, leant forwards, and cupped both of Catra's cheeks, fingers immediately curling around her ears. She kissed the magicat on the forehead and deeply inhaled her scent. "Kitten I sent the message and set the course for straight ahead when I came in here an hour ago. I want to see what else is out there." Her blue eyes flitted up hungrily to the stars and then back to Catra before she reclined back into her chair.

Catra didn't look up, but she did release a suspiciously watery chuckle before she shifted forwards and wrapped her perfect lips around the head of Adora's cock suddenly. She took it deep down her throat so fast it seemed effortless. Adora groaned obscenely and buried her hands in Catra's hair, her grip tight and immediately desperate.

Adora's cock wasn't exactly small. Fully erect as she was now it was eight inches long and thick as fuck. And Catra just kept sliding her lips further and further down her length until they were stretched taunt and her breath was coming out in hot, fast puffs against Adora's abdomen.

"Gods, fuck Catra," Adora groaned out as Catra's head began to bob up and down in her lap. The blond watched Catra's throat greedily as the muscles contracted to deep throat her over and over again. They were strained against her collar.

Adora felt a sudden sharp sting at the base of her dick and hissed loudly in pleasure. Occasional knicks on her dick were an unavoidable experience when the woman sucking it regularly had needle sharp fangs. Adora relished in the familiar sting, craved it actually.

Adora's fingers tightened roughly in Catra's hair and when the magicat made to bob up, Adora forced her back down until Catra's claws pressed into her thighs, easily piercing through her sweats and into her skin. The magicat sputtered around the cock firmly blocking her airway.

Catra let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a yowl as she struggled to breath for a second. And when Adora pulled her back up she sucked in a ragged breath before a deep growl rumbled in her chest. Her bi-colored eyes were completely blown and she pulled against Adora's hand, trying to take the blond down her throat again.

"Fuck you're so desperate to choke on my dick, aren't you Kitten?" Adora slurred out. She didn't even wait for a response, just shoved Catra back down as her hips jolted up.

She began fucking Catra's throat in a slow but firm pace. Push Catra down and hold her there for a few long moments and then yank her up. Catra was growling nearly non-stop as she fought to keep her lips firmly wrapped around Adora and the vibrations from it made Adora's toes curl into the carpet.

She could happily cum like this, just release herself into Catra's eager mouth like she'd done plenty of times before, but she was suddenly starving for more. Catra's body was practically writhing on the floor, her hips jerking forwards repeatedly, and her thighs pressed firmly together. The sight of her girlfriend so fucking turned on from sucking her dick made Adora feel godsdamn invincible.

"Up," Adora ordered, not waiting for Catra to respond before she was leaning over and practically ripping the magicat's leggings off. Catra was too far gone for words or to be much help, and Adora practically had to pick her up to get the pants and underwear off her feet. She made quick work of both of their shirts too. "Come on," she growled, pulling her writhing girlfriend into the chair with her.

Adora pulled Catra forwards at the hips, pressing her down until Catra's dripping pussy was pressed against her abs. Immediately Catra started rubbing wantonly against against her, spreading her slick up down Adora's stomach. Her mouth found Adora's neck and she began pressing possessive needy kisses against her.

"Fuck you're so sexy," Adora groaned as she held firmly onto Catra's hips and watched her grind against her. Adora didn't need heightened senses to know even after multiple showers, she was going to smell like Catra for days.

"Mine," Catra growled out territorially as she made new marks to Adora's already colorful neck.

"All yours Kitten," Adora agreed. She loved feeling Catra move against her like this, but her dick was begging for relief.

It was difficult to push the writhing Catra back enough to enter her. Her girlfriend was nearly completely gone, operating on her most base instincts and desires, but Adora managed to grab her hips in a bruising grasp and lower her further down her body.

Her own hips were jerking violently upwards on their own volition and it was a frantic moment as she tried to hold Catra still enough that she could stroke up into her. "Hold still," she ordered, her blunt nails digging into Catra's hips demandingly. Catra let out a frustrated growl but stopped fighting against Adora. Adora grunted as she shifted their bodies, lined up, and slammed her dick hilt deep into her girlfriend.

Catra let out a guttural sound from deep in her chest and her claws raked through Adora's hair, pulling their foreheads together. "S-so good f-fuck Adora," she stuttered through clenched teeth as Adora began slamming up into her roughly.

Their eyes were wild and locked onto one another's. The room was filled with the thumping bass, the lewd wet sounds of their thighs slapping together, Adora's harsh ragged breathing, and a constant rumbling growl from Catra.

Every time she bottomed out in her lover Adora's heart skipped a beat. Catra's pussy was clenching around her cock almost in sync to the music and Adora felt like she would die if she couldn't get further into Catra. She wanted to live inside the woman in her lap.

Catra's head fell to Adora's shoulder and she began rambling out adoration and praise for Adora as she sucked, licked, and bit at Adora's neck repeatedly. "Fuck s-soooo fucking good. You fuck! You're f-fucking me so g-good Adora Fuck." Her body was becoming pliant above Adora, allowing the blonde to drill up at her own pace and pull Catra down on her like a toy.

The praise combined with a bite hard enough to draw blood at the juncture of her neck and shoulders had Adora howling. Adora was like a woman possessed as she heaved both of their bodies up and then down onto the floor. Catra began to scramble up when Adora pulled out of her but frantically got into position when Adora started to forcefully roll her over into her hands and knees.

This was Catra's preferred position to get fucked and Adora wasted no time before slamming back into her girlfriend. She leaned over Catra until her front was flush against the magicats silky back and braced herself on her right arm. Her left hand shot up to Catra's neck and her fingers dug in between her collar and fur.

"Fuck!" Catra howled as Adora began violently rocking against her, pushing her further to the floor each time. Catra's claws were fully extended, digging grooves into the carpet and scraping at the metal beneath it. "I love you," she growled out, giving up any control she had left and just letting Adora pound into her.

"Y-you're my, my fucking whole world," Adora managed to gasp out as she lurched above Catra. "I w-want to be inside you forever."

Catra trilled below her and her pussy began to clench so hard around Adora's cock it felt nearly impossible to pull out. She felt like Catra was sucking her into her. They were almost completely down on the carpet now, with most of Adora's weight fully on Catra.

"Mine," Catra growled desperately, her eyes were clenched shut and her body had begun to violently tremble. Her claws were locked several inches down into the floor beneath them.

"Yours. All yours. Everything I am is for you," Adora gasped out. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she felt like it was about to explode and her focus had completely narrowed to the feeling of Catra's pussy gripping her cock like a vice.

She could feel a scream building up in Catra's chest below her and Adora latched onto her shoulder with her teeth. She bit down hard and Catra's head snapped back as she screamed Adora's name and tipped over into her orgasm.

Adora's balls and upper thighs were drenched as Catra's pussy spasmed and squirted below her. The feeling of Catra's white hot release was it for Adora. She slammed down once, twice, a third time, and then her body went rigid as her own orgasm ripped through her. The blond's back arched and her head snapped back, eyes open and wide, her vision filled with porta literal stars as she emptied her balls deep into her girlfriend.

Below her Catra writhed and rubbed up into Adora, her pussy was milking Adora's dick for every last drop of cum it could. Adora felt dizzy from her violent release and she pressed them both down against the floor, barely managing to not rest completely atop Catra's petite frame.

They laid there together like that for a long while. Taking greedy breaths and shaking against each other. Adora was still buried deep inside Catra as the woman's pussy contracted around her. Finally when Adora started to come back to herself she eased out of her lover, chuckling lightly at the disgruntled whine Catra let out.

"Ssh baby," Adora cooed. She kept a hand on the small of Catra's back and stroked her fingers through the thick fur as she straightened up on her knees. Her back gave a satisfying crack at the stretch and she sighed looking down at Carta whose fingers were starting to dig into the floor rhythmically. Her hips were raised trying to get as close as possible to Adora's gently scratching hand. "Come on baby," Adora murmured softly as she picked Catra up.

Catra was practically boneless in her arms but Adora managed to get her knees locked around her waist and her arms over her shoulders before she hoisted both of them up off of the floor. She took a moment to get her bearings and wrapped an arm more securely under Catra's ass.

Catra had almost immediately started purring after Adora picked her up and now it was turning into a loud rumble as she nuzzled her face in Adora's neck and started to scent her. "Bed," she grumbled out against Adora's skin as her claws started to kneed the blond's shoulder.

Adora chuckled and gently butted her head against Catra's. "Yes bed time now," she whispered softly as she spared one last glance to the star filled windows in front of her before focusing on the task at hand.

By Adora's estimate she had about five to ten minutes to get Catra to the privacy of their cabin before the magicat would be forcefully holding Adora down regardless of where they were. Catra's after sex hormone driven instincts were always pretty strong and were Adora's absolute favorite moments to witness. She knew they'd be intense tonight with how hard they'd fucked and Catra still riding the high of that Chix-ekian herbal blend she'd smoked.

"Okay," she murmured taking stock of the situation. This was not her first naked Catra on the bridge rodeo. She knew there was no way she was going to be able to put Catra down long enough to get their clothes back on, the possibility didn't even cross her mind. Still, in an attempt at civility she toed their discarded clothing into a pile and mostly kicked it under her chair.

Adora took a few steps to Catra's chair and grabbed the large fluffy blanket folded up in it. "Hold tight baby," she whispered, waiting a second for Catra to tighten around her body before shaking out the blanket and wrapping it around their bodies.

She grimaced a little at the ten rivets cut into the floor at her feet. Double Trouble would have a field day with that. She shrugged because what could she really do about it now? Quickly she checked Darla's readings before heading off of the bridge. Out in the dim hallways of Darla she could just slightly make out the sounds of music and laughter and it made her smile impossibly wider as she tightened her grip around her purring girlfriend.

She had just reached their door when Entrapta swung around the corner laughing. She just managed to stop herself from running into them and snapped back. Hey smile was sweet as she observed them. "Hi Adora," she managed to whisper out despite her obvious excitement.

"Hi Entrapta," Adora giggled lightly, shifting Catra's weight to her other arm.

"I've noticed we have continued on at our current trajectory Adora," Entrapta whispered, her hair expressing her obvious delight with the way it rolled around her body.

"Indeed," Adora whispered and then smiled widely when Entrapta had to cover her mouth with her hair to keep her excited shriek down.

"Goodnight Adora," Entrapta whispered, and then leant towards Catra and whispered even quieter "goodnight Catra."

Gently Entrapta patted the area between Catra's ears with her hair, and Adora had to push down a delighted gasp when Catra's tail came up and curled around the end of the hair. Adora honestly felt like she could cry at the way Catra's tail intimately held onto Entrapta, swirling around her hair for a few seconds before dropping back down to tuck under the blanket. That gesture from Catra held more meaning than any hug could and it was clear from the happy smile on Entrapta's face that she understood that. The princess waved before barreling back the way she'd come from.

A sharp, pointed nip at her shoulder made Adora chuckle and she turned and walked them into their cabin. She shrugged off the blanket wrapped around them and headed into their little bathroom, Catra still in her arms.

In a clearly practiced routine she ran a washcloth under warm water and brought it up between them to wipe at the sticky mess between Catra's legs. Catra was starting to purr like a skiff motor now and rub her face in earnest against Adora's neck and shoulders.

Satisfied that Catra's fur wouldn't mat Adora headed back into their bedroom and turned out the lights. A light glow from the baseboards was all the light Adora needed to walk the few feet to their bed. She turned around and carefully lowered their bodies down, her muscles tensed to keep them from tipping back. They had picked up the unique bed a few planets ago after Catra had fallen in love with the design. It's sides raised up gradually creating a deep pocketed area in the middle. It was a little tricky to get in and out of, but being nested down in the middle with Catra was absolutely worth it.

After some practiced maneuvering Adora laid down and stretched out her legs, a deep sigh releasing from her chest as Catra wrapped her body around Adora's. A big goofy smile split Adora's face in half as Catra started to rumble on top of her. A moment later her kneading started back up and she began to lick gently at Adora's bruised and scraped neck.

Adora was absolutely blissed out with contentment as she buried her fingers into Catra's furr, one hand right above her tail, the other behind an ear, and started scratching. The rumbling and purring kicked up several notches and Catra began to lick at her skin in earnest.

She'd learned a lot in the last seven months, but the most important lesson had been figuring out all the ways Catra had been saying "I love you" since they were toddlers. She hadn't gotten it before the heart, hadn't thought it was possible because Catra had never said the words out loud. But every purr, nuzzle, and kneed Catra had let out just for Adora had said it for her. Adora was so fucking glad that circumstances aside, she'd finally gotten the chance to figure this out.

The room was absolutely silent but Adora could still feel the light soothing pulse of bass. They laid together for a long time as Catra's rough tongue laved over Adora's neck and upper torso. Adora kept up her diligent scratching, shifting whenever necessary to give Catra easy access to her body. The sounds coming out from Catra were honestly favorite sounds in the universe, a constant deep purr that was laid under a rumbling growl.

Catra was apparently satisfied with her grooming job because she started to settle against Adora, her purr has toned down into a lazy idle as she gently rubbed her scent glands against the splotchy skin of Adora's neck

"I love you so much," Catra murmured, shifting up to press gentle kisses against Adora's face. Her eyes blinked slowly.

"I love you too," Adorab breathed out before pulling Catra down to settle her head on Adora's chest. Adora kept gently stroking behind Catra's ears up until the moment sleep claimed her, warm and content, wrapped completely around her lover.

Darla cruised quietly through space for parts unknown.

#she-ra #adora/catra #catradora #catradora smut #Catradora fic #the etherian party bus

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Nine: Group Therapy

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A familiar drink brings back steamy memories for Shane (by popular demand), a ghost from the past picks a fight with the present, and the future hangs in the balance for our heroes.

Behind on the drama? It’s cool. I gotchu.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, violence, smut, alcohol consumption, more feels than you can shake a stick at.

Author’s Note: Guys. Listen guys. I know this chapter is a tad late…not that I have deadlines, I just know y’all want more sooner than I can always get it to you. It’s also, though, a bit longer than most of the previous installments have been. I hope you guys enjoy it. I think it’s my favorite chapter so far…I definitely cried the most writing it…you’ll see why…I’m not sorry. Initially, for some reason, it was hard to stay focused. (I blame my own emotions and feelings clouding my ambitions. Can’t let that happen anymore. Even though the same factors apply. I’ve gotta keep my head in it!) I’m actually pretty sad that there won’t be very much more of this story…they’ve been such good friends to me. I may just have to find a way to keep them going in follow-up drabbles. I don’t know. But I’m open to suggestions.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

It wasn’t top on Shane’s list of things she wanted to do tonight, but it had been ages since she’d gone out with her friends. It wasn’t totally because she’d been seeing Sy. But more recently, he had become the most prevalent reason she ended up bowing out. Because she had plans with him, or she needed to do things that she hadn’t gotten or wouldn’t get done because of plans with him unless she skipped out. They were bad excuses, but those of an introvert weren’t usually top-shelf, anyway.

It was Heather, the other secretary Marsha and her husband Alec, some of her fellow PTs Cory and Juan, and both OTs, Olivia and Miranda there at Cade’s that night. And Shane and Sy, of course. They were sitting at two tables close together, and after dinner, the guys got up to play darts while the ladies ordered a round of shots.

Heather both requested and paid for the tray of tiny glasses full of dark liquor. Shane knew the aroma all too well. Those were full of Jack Daniels. And she got tingly just thinking about the spirit, especially now.

“Let’s drink the first round to Shane.” She passed them around and held one up. “For landing captain sexy pants over there, and for being happier than I’ve seen her in actual years.” Heather clinked to the middled with the other girls as they completed the toast with cheery responses of “to Shane!” With intermittent whoops and cat-calls. She felt funny saluting herself, so she said nothing, silently dedicating her own drink to the guy she wasn’t expecting, wasn’t even asking for, but who’d been gifted to her, by God Himself, it seemed. Whoever or whatever or why ever, she was grateful for him.

She downed the full measure of whiskey, feeling the familiar pleasant burn down her throat and reminisced about the last time she’d had the drink.

~~~~~~

“No you’re cheating!” She slurred at Sy’s kitchen table.

“Not how I see it!” He smirked, that crooked grin mixing with the alcohol in her already impaired system making a heady and dangerous concoction.

“You’re delib’rately using my PT career against me!” They we’re playing “Never Have I Ever.” And he’d just used “never have I ever measured somebody up with a big protractor.”

“Hey, you’ve been trying to get me with ‘never have I army this, and never have I army that.’ And you just can’t and now you’re mad about it.”

“Ugh, I’m not mad, I just…don’t like cheating okay. Fair play. I’m a Hufflepuff, through and through!”

“As a Gryffindor, I resent your implication against my honor! And I say, drink twice.” They’d run out of mixer, and were down to the straight liquor. She was fine with it. She loved the sweet, oaky burn of Number 7 as she held small swallows on her tongue. Relished the burn of it on the tender skin of her lips like a rough kiss. She took two shots at his insistence.

“Never have I ever…fired a gun!” And they both drank because she had chosen a “never” that she “had ever” on purpose. She liked feeling this way with Sy. She liked being able to abandon her control and feel safe in so doing. Knowing that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. Including herself.

His eyes began to glimmer in a way that she could always tell meant he was thinking something particularly salacious. Which typically meant something good was about to happen.

“Never have I ever…fooled around in a kitchen.” He waited a beat, then slowly stood, taking a long stride to stand directly in front of Shane, towering over her as she sat limp from drinking and more than ready for whatever he was planning. The kiss he gave her was almost instantly hungry, devouring, consuming. A wild fire that would spread throughout the forest of her. He pulled a stool out from under the table near her, barely having to break the contact and sat down in front of her on it. She leaned into him now, the boneless feeling now overtaken by her craving for him. She tugged at his casual blue tank top that stunned her because of the way it matched his eyes so well. She needed him closer. His hands rested on her thighs, mostly bare in the shorts she'd chosen for tonight, simply for their comfort, and not because they provided any sort of easy access. Not on a conscious level, anyway, she told herself.

His grip was tightening but the pain of the pressure didn't matter. His thumbs and fingers were rupturing tiny blood vessels and she registered the pain and the fact that she would have bruises in the shape of his claiming grip but all that really mattered was that he was there. Near. Present. And touching her.

His hands moved, sliding up her legs, their trajectory shifting inward, their aim to open her up to him.

She was nothing short of willing.

He reached down to the seat between her legs and pulled her closer to him. Yes, she thought. He's too far away. Even though she could smell the whiskey on his breath even as she tasted it, still sweet on her own tongue. He laid a gentle hand on her left cheek, an almost chaste gesture, that snaked into something entirely different as it descended, brushing her neck, between her breasts, and over her abdomen, tumultuous from his touch and the drink.

He made it finally to her apex, easily brushing aside the fabric of her shorts, and teasing her there over her underwear with a soft, measured touch. She threw her arms around his neck, a wordless plea for him to go on. But her body was at odds with her mind.

“Sy, I wanna go slow.” She meant she didn’t want to end up in his bed tonight. Well, not that she didn't want to…

"Don't worry, sunshine. I'll take it real slow." he assured her, pretending to misunderstand her meaning as he teased her over her panties. She couldn't have spoken to correct him even if his lips hadn't taken an urgent hold on hers. His firm but frustrating touch was leaving her speechless and breathless.

Finally, he moved her undergarment aside to touch her, skin to skin. To pull a sweet, euphoric moan from her with just his fingers. He had been right about taking his time. It took him ages to find that space inside her that brought her to her pinnacle, but he made the wait enjoyable, all the same. She had a feeling he could have gone right to it, if he’d wanted to, but since she’d asked for it…

He grinned and chuckled into her mouth a bit as he toyed with her. He finally spoke,

“Hot damn, girl, you should have told me you needed me this bad.” He added a second finger to his game of search and destroy.

She could only grasp at his bare shoulders and the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground herself. He quickened, then slowed in sweet torture until her cries of his name became over loud for his neighborhood. The last build up, he added his thumb , brushing it against her aching center.

It hit her in waves of bliss as every muscle in her body responded to his localized, expert touch. Her vision blurred and for a second she could see the electricity flowing through air and matter and into her. Since when did THAT happen to her when she came?

“Sy!” She whimpered, a plea for him to stop but also to never stop.

“I know, darlin’, it’s alright. I’ve gotcha. Go on and let it out.” And she barely realized another climax had been building in her before she was falling headlong into it again, just as intense as the first one. He slowed, gently soothing her body after its small death, rubbing her neck and shoulder on the right side with his free hand.

He took his right hand away from her heat, brought it up to his mouth, and tasted her on his fingers. He poured them both another shot of whiskey, they threw them back, and once she had caught her breath from it all, she said,

“I don’t know the score, but I think you’ve won.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the present, she felt too sober to handle the bombardment of questions coming from her coworkers, no matter how pure their intentions.

“So are you guys a couple, like officially?”

“Have you met each other’s folks?”

“Do you think he’s the one?”

“What is he like in bed!?”

“I bet he’s an absolute fiend!”

“Nah, guys ya think that about are always so vanilla.”

“How big is he!?”

All of these questions seemed to come at one time, or at least before she could answer the previous ones, and it made her head spin.

“Listen, girls. I’m gonna go get myself a strong drink, and when I come back, I’ll answer one question at a time, so figure out the order in which you’ll be asking, and a punishment system for interrupting. Fair?” The hens all nodded their beaks in agreement as she stood to go to the bar. She reminded herself to add a disclaimer when she got back to the table about having veto power over questions she felt weren’t appropriate.

As she stood at the bar waiting for her turn with the bartender, she tensed as she heard an all too familiar voice say her name.

“Shane Benton.” He said in a charming tenor that she now found obnoxiously boyish.

“Elliott Thomas. What misdeed did I do in a past life to end up back in the same room with you?” He ignored her jibe.

“You look well.” He said, surveying her as if he intended to make a purchase.

“Okay.” She would not give credence to half assed, insincere compliments.

“Who’s the guy you’re with tonight?”

“That couldn’t be any less your business.”

“You’ll always be my business, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny, you didn’t seem to give a shit when we were together.”

“Come on, tell me where ya met this meat head.”

“Back off, Elliott.”

“Come on. He’s in a plaid shirt. He looks like he’s trying to cosplay the Brawny man. How quick does he pick you up?” He raised his eyebrows, driving home his attempt at double entendre.

The rage came suddenly, without warning, and manifested in a firm slap from her right hand to his left cheek. It landed solidly enough for him to have to stretch his jaw and feel it, as if making sure it was still there.

"Well, still got some spunk. Good to know. Not so fast--" he grabbed her wrist as she stepped away from the bar, but she was saved the trouble of getting out of it with her favorite self-defense maneuver, by the solid wall of red plaid and denim topped with his favorite black Chiefs hat. Sy had apparently noticed her altercation at the bar and elected to step in.

"What's goin' on here?" he asked, not brusquely, but so coolly that it was almost friendly. Elliott let go of Shane's wrist immediately and threw his hands up.

"No trouble here, man. Just a little friendly conversation between two former lovers." he said, oozing pure, stinking hubris.

"Oh, you're Elliott. Nice to meet you, man." Sy reached out to shake the man's hand. "I've actually been wanting to thank you."

Elliott looked confused. So was Shane. This guy had broken her heart. What was Sy intent on thanking him for?

"I wanted to thank you for fucking up so bad with this kind, beautiful woman, this graceful and forgiving saint, that she couldn't stand the sight of you any longer. Who knows. If you hadn't been such a dick, she may not have been free to be with me today." all of this, Sy said with Elliott's hand still in his. Shaking it. Apparently not too firmly. Until Sy leaned in very closely and whispered something to Elliott that made him go several shades of puce, and grimace, pulling his hand away, which Sy eventually relinquished.

After Elliott had tucked his tail and ran away, Shane found herself in a far less merry temperament than she'd come in with. She and Sy decided to leave. They said their goodbyes, Shane promising more answers as soon as she could. And they left, her arm around his waist, and his around her shoulder.

About halfway to Sy's truck, Shane heard a solid ping near her ear and the shattering of glass on the pavement nearby, followed by a low growl from deep in Sy's chest. They halted in their stride, Shane turning quickly around, Sy turning more slowly and intentionally in the direction of his would be attacker.

Elliot stood beside the brick exterior of the bar with three other men, none of them within 50 pounds of Sy, and hardly a match for him…individually…but together, she was concerned. She would absolutely try to help fight these guys, but she couldn't take out more than one with the potential weapons she had on her person that she could inventory off hand. Plus, if she had to fight Elliott…he'd get into her head…she knew it. Thank God she didn't know the other guys. She'd hope to get one of them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Sy said, back to his polite self, not worried about potentially getting into a street fight in which they were outnumbered two to one.

"Just thought you'd like to tell my buddies here what you said to me in there. I mean, I gave them the gist, but I think they'd like to hear it from you." Elliott puffed.

"Ah, somebody can't keep a secret." Sy sigh scolded him, wagging his finger at him as if he was a misbehaved child. "I was gonna let it all go as long as you left us alone. Did you mention that to them before you got them into a whole mess o' trouble?"

"Tell them, you fuckin' coward."

"Big talk from a guy who had to make it four to one before he confronted me." Sy accused.

"Four to two." Shane squared her shoulders, standing next to Sy, and attempting to make herself look more formidable, which was next to impossible given the fact that the man beside her was a massive army captain and she was just…herself. But she'd be damned if she stood by and let Sy take all of this on when it was all because of her. Plus, she didn't want him to reinjure himself.

"How about you jump in if I need ya, sunshine." He whispered to her. She didn't move or reply. "But ya know, since ya asked so nicely, I will oblige. I told this piss-ant friend of yours after he physically accosted this lovely lady here, in no uncertain terms that if he EVER touched MY GIRLFRIEND again, he'd be begging for death for hours before I had mercy on him and put him out of his misery and that his body would never be found." He eyed each of the men before him, his fiery gaze a physical force upon them, letting his promise to Elliott sink in. "Now if y'all wanna defend a man who would put hands on a woman, and then proceed to physically assault a United States Army veteran like myself, I can come up with similar guarantees for all of ya. And carry them out here tonight. But y'all look like ya've got a lot o' shit ya still wanna get done in this life with limbs and dicks intact. So I would encourage all of you fine gentlemen to walk away from this situation."

Two of the men, surrendered, claiming Elliott hadn't mentioned that he'd hurt Shane or that Sy was a vet. One of the men asked to shake his hand and thanked him for his service. The smallest member of Elliott's group, however, remained with him. Shane thought she recognized him after getting a better look. He'd been at a few events she'd been to with Elliott's friend group. She thought his name was Kyle. Clearly he was one of Elliott's oldest and most loyal friends. He still looked skeptical. Unsure that the two of them alone could take Sy. Shane thought he was right to be worried.

"Come on, Kyle!" Elliott summoned his friend to the fight.

"I dunno, man. He's a soldier and I mean…look at him. Look at us!"

"You pussy." Elliott walked up to Sy.

"You don't want to do this, friend." Sy warned.

"I'm not your friend, asshole. You stole my girlfriend." he swung wildly at the larger man, but missed. He was unsteady, Shane could see now, from excessive drink. She hadn't noticed inside.

Sy remained still for one punch that landed weakly on his jaw, barely displacing it. "Are you done, there, Mayweather? We even? Now that you got to hit me?"

"We are not done. Not until one of us is on the ground." Elliott insisted.

"Fair enough." Sy socked him with a jab straight to the nose, knocking him dizzily to the hard asphalt of the parking lot. Kyle came up to him to drag Elliott to a nearby car as his head lolled forward like a rag doll.

"I'll get him to the ER. Explain to them what happened. You guys get home safe. And thanks for not killing him. Or me." Kyle said as he opened his passenger door. Sy helped heave Elliott's comatose form into the seat and shook Kyle's hand.

Shane's eyes were still wide at the entire chain of events. Her adrenaline supercharged from her readiness to fight alongside her man. Which, she was both relieved and disappointed that she didn't have to do. But there was another thing on her mind. She had been mentally replaying what Sy had said to Elliott played over and over for more reasons than his chivalrous and heroic conduct.

When they were in the car and headed to her house, Shane asked him about it.

"So…you called me your girlfriend tonight." she looked at him.

"Shit, Shane, I'm sorry. I've been wanting to ask ya for days to make things official, and I just haven't found the right time. I was gonna ask you over drinks tonight in front of all your friends, but then that asshole fucked it all up. I even have a gift for you." he fished around in his pocket for a small, flat box, and handed it to her. She flipped up the spring loaded lid of the black velvet box, and inside, on a tiny pillow of black satin was a silver necklace with a silver charm. An "S" in an elaborate script with a small emerald set in the lower hook of the letter. "And if you don't want to make it official, you can still keep the necklace, because the 'S' can be for 'Shane,' and the stone can just be an emerald, and ya don't have to think about it like it's my birthstone, and I--"

"Sy, hush. Of course I want to be your girlfriend, officially. I've been dying to say it myself. And I love the necklace. It's perfect."

"Really? You mean it? All of it?" she'd never seen him so desperate. She had no idea why he thought she might not be serious. But she did have an idea of how to prove it.

"Stay with me tonight, Sy."

"It's still early yet, babe. I'll have plenty of time--"

"No, I mean, I want you. Tonight." How could she be more clear than that?

"Oh, you mean…but I thought you wanted to wait until my treatments were over?" He asked, as if he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet.

"When you were on the phone with my boss that day, you said something that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. Something that's gnawed at my will and resolve ever since. You said that life was too short, and you didn't want to wait to be happy when you could be happy now." she was verging on tears. "Well, I'm tired of waiting too, Sy. You make me happier than I've ever been, and I don't see the point in ignoring what we really want anymore. Because the fact is, Sy…the fact has been for a while now," she laughed at her own foolishness for stifling and ignoring it all this time, "I love you. And I think I have from the moment you first called me ma'am." She was fully crying now, and the tears had broken through down his cheeks, as well.

He pulled into her driveway and jumped out of his truck, still running, headlights blazing into her yard. He jogged around the front, but Shane, being uninjured had caught up to him without the benefit of a head start. He caught her up in his arms as if she'd stay there forever. They sobbed tears of joy and relief as they kissed each other with abandon, silhouettes against the footlights and exhaust courtesy of the Ford Motor Company, the PowerStroke engine roaring a soundtrack for this moment as it idled.

"I love you, Shane. From the moment you found me dreading therapy all alone that first day and cheered me up instantly. I knew." he brush the tears and hairs away from her face and held it, scrutinizing her features in the high-beams as if he intended to draw her from memory.

"I didn't know you were dreading it." she laughed, lightening the mood a bit.

"I was. A lot. Never had a lot of luck, especially recently, with PT. Until you."

She smiled, and looked at the truck, a third party to their romantic moment now more obvious to her.

"You're wasting gas."

"Hang the gas. I'm wasting time with you. You wanna go inside?" he asked. She nodded.

"You go get your purse. I'll be right around."

Sy shut off the truck and took his keys out, locking the vehicle from the fob after his arm was back around Shane and they were walking up her front porch steps.

Up Next: Chapter 10- Myofascial Release

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #syverson smut #sigh for sy #Smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc

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dappercritter · 4 years

Text

Invader Zim: Taller Tales of Terror - The First Fic That Wasn’t

This was going to be my first fanfiction that I ever published, but things came up and I found other story ideas and fandoms to get into. However, because there’s nothing I hate more than leaving a story untold and forgotten.

So like a writer jilted by a big name studio working on a big superhero movie that went terribly wrong after they left, I’m going to share it with you good folks to see if you still think there’s hope for it in some capacity. If so maybe I’ll choose to revive it in some capacity, or one of you kind folks can adopt it. Whatever you think of the once untold tale I’m about tell you, I hope you enjoy it.

The fic would have been either a mini-series/anthology or a movie-esque sequel—or two—to Enter the Florpus.

It would have followed the stranger further misadventures the kids would go on as teenagers, all of which have at least something to do with getting taller, literally or metaphorically.

Although I'd do my best to recreate the series' darkly comic tone, there'd be more to the story than just that. I'd like to do a sort of character study with my fanfics and explore what they would do as they got older, how they would change if they could change, if they'd mature and try to connect with each other more, or if they really do just hate each other. It'd be like a coming-of-age story but done in the style of Invader Zim.

But don’t be fooled, folks! It's not going to be one of those big dramatic fanfics with high stakes (nor any smut) thrown in. At it's core it's still just a fun, dumb, mildly disturbed "What if?" sort of fic. There would be a bit more emphasis on character and plot than normal, because I do love me a good character-driven plot, but still plenty of room for (what I hoped would feel like) the usual weird dumb creepy fun that original series excelled at.

The story is set in basically the same continuity (or at least the closest thing to a continuity that can exist in Invader Zim) as the show and comics. The only difference is that the Battle of Meekrob actually happened—but not really.

Long backstory short, there was a big showdown between the Irken Armada and the Meekrob-allied Resisty, but Zim and Dib missed it because a food fight got them stuck in detention. Zim tried to get Skoodge (who was rooming with him at the time because the scrapped Season 2 episodes were sorta canon here) to cover for him until her got there, while Dib tried to get Gaz to take Tak’s ship to provide support against the Irken. By the time they got out, however, the battle was over, Gaz blew the whole thing off to get a new game, Skoodge and some other Invader became the war hero Zim always aspired to be, and The Almighty Tallest decided to cancel Operation Impending Doom 2 because after the big exciting space battle they felt like they couldn’t top anything after that. Suffice to say, Zim took it pretty hard. Dib however would have seen this as something of a win since Zim still failed in a sense. Albeit it was a very anticlimactic win, even to him.

The actual story would have taken place about 5 years after the Battle of Meekrob, where Zim, Dib, and Gaz have made it to high school (or “hi-skool” as this is the Invader Zim universe, after all). Setting wise, things haven't changed much but the characters have made a few surprising or not-so-surprising developments. The most important of all, so important that it would be the focus of the entire story, in fact! would have been Zim developing a brand-new disguise utilizing an exoskeleton, based partially on the Almighty Tallest, in attempt to make him look like a normal teenager AND impress superiors. Naturally, things go horribly yet amusingly wrong for everyone involved.

Now just where and what has everyone been up to/going through in those five years? Here’s a rundown:

-Zim spent those 5 years obsessing over his crushing failure, begging the Tallest to give him another chance, which they refused every time. Being stuck on a planet of smelly, stupid, and increasingly annoying creatures for so long without any real victories has left him bitter and frantic with more shmoopiness than usual. Even the little "VICTORY FOR ZIM!" moments he used to have got harder and harder to come by. By the time he reached high school, he was so messed up he didn’t realize his classmates had all had growth spurts until Dib easily overpowered him in one of their petty fights and points it out to the whole school. Thus, leading to the new exoskeleton and subsequent schemes to redeem himself in the eyes of the Tallest while looking normal in the eyes of his human classmates. Unfortunately, due to his desperation and general lack of understanding about the human body, the exoskeleton comes out looking like a lanky robotic nightmare with clawed fingers that jerks around like a big cybernetic marionette.

-Dib meanwhile has been doing slightly better. He and his paranormal research are still looked down upon, but he's persevered through the hope that someday he'll prove he's right. After (indirectly) stopping Zim from joining the Battle of Meekrob, Dib got a small confidence boost, thinking of it as a big step to exposing for Zim real now that he’s effectively trapped on Earth with him now. Although, following a rather blunt intervention from his family, he's started thinking about what he’ll do with himself once Zim is gone. He still hates his guts and he's still hellbent on beating him, but he's also started getting out more and trying to socialize more—however awkward his attempts may be. That he's also gotten taller and his head isn't quite as big compared to the rest of his body has been good for his self-esteem too. But make no mistake—when he's not going for runs, working shifts at his dad’s lab, or looking into a “totally normal” science major, he's toiling away on improving his array of anti-Zim strategies and defenses.

-Gaz is doing pretty good but she is totally done with Zim and Dib's junk. Although she's still her old apathetic self, she's doing everything in her power to broaden her horizons so she doesn't end up in the same, stupid rut that they ended up in. She would have gotten into indie art and game development; although her work is still fairly obscure, it's quickly gaining attention for it's macabre, edgy, punishing and geeky nature. (Imagine the works of Jhonen Vasquez, Toby Fox, Hidetaka Miyazaki, and Hideki Kamiya mashed together.) She also participates in e-sports tournaments on occasion, if only because crushing countless so-called “gamers” brings her amusement. Her psychic powers have also gotten stronger with her age, and she likes to experiment with them whenever she can—usually when somebody really annoys her. She's doing fine in the story until, after a run-in with a certain unkillable spoiled brat at an e-sports tournament, sends her over the edge and she trashes the place in a Carrie-esque episode. This gets her sent to anger management therapy, and now she's trying to find a way out to avoid sitting through an endless slog of "sappy" sessions.

-Gir would still be insane.

-Minimoose would still be the ultimate techno-lifeform Minimoose.

-Zim's Computer is still tired.

-Prof. Membrane is still the greatest and most powerful scientist who ever lived but he’s also trying to make time for his family more and mentoring Dib to be the successor to his legacy he always thinks he was meant to be. That is if is experimental new immortality machine doesn’t work out. May or may not have to fend off Clembrane whenever he comes to visit.

-The Almighty Tallest are still living content, tyrannical lives. They didn't take canceling Operation Impending Doom 2 very hard because, as it turns out, they just got bored with it after a while. (Of course, Zim's repeated interference didn't help keep their spirits up either). However, they'd come up with the perfect plan to obtain absolute control of the universe AND get the feeling back: by making Operation Impending Doom 3 a thing and setting up a huge hype campaign for it. Thing go pretty well for them until Zim calls them and tells them about his new exosuit. They believe that Zim is trying to make himself look like a Tallest so he can lead a rebellion against them and get revenge for treating him like garbage. (He's not, obviously, but they're too dumb and paranoid to realize this.) So, they pretend that they're ok with it and let him carry on his merry way while they figure out how to dispose of him without making him look like a martyr figure of some sort, thus giving the other Irkens they mistreated any ideas.

-Tak would show up again in the second half and this is where it gets spoiler-y. She would come to Earth on the Tallest’s orders with a squad consisting of a reformatted Mimi, rogue SIR units, as well as Tenn and Skoodge who she had recruited to aid in her vendetta against Zim. She would subsequently reveal that after drifting through space in an escape pod, she crashed landed on Meekrob just as the battle was about to begin, and using the element of surprise, rescued Tenn from captivity and assisted Skoodge and the Tallest in devising a battle strategy so brilliant that it crushed the Resisty and Meekrob’s alliance and earned her the status of Irken Elite. She grew comfortable in her new position but could never get over her fear that Zim would eventually ruin it all again, so she waited and prepared for the day she would strike back. I don’t know how or if she would adopt an updated disguise (perhaps a hologram of her older humansona projected over her, Tenn, and Skoodge standing on top of her shoulders?) or hide in the shadows while Tenn, Skoodge, Mimi and the berserk SIR squad did her dirty work.

-Skoodge would have gone from aspiring to be Zim’s friend to being his worst enemy after Tak turned him to her side by digging into his past with him, making him realize how little his supposed old friend cared about him. Despite this he still keeps an unusually cheerful disposition—even repeatedly apologizing to Zim whenever he attacks him—and acts as the heart of Tak’s squad. He thinks of them as his real friends, so he always goes out of his way to help them out or keep the energy up. Even though Tak looks down on him because of his size, she appreciates his gullibility and unquestioning loyalty. Tenn just thinks he’s nice, especially since he’s good at keeping the SIRs in check.

-Tenn has recovered from the traumatic escapades she endured on Meekrob at the hands of the rogue SIR units and imprisonment under the enemy, returning to her usual competant Invader self—something Tak values quite a bit in an armada largely composed of egomaniacs and morons. Tenn values Tak’s companionship even more, viewing her as a conquering hero who not only won the most important battle of Irken history, but also, her heart. …Not she’ll ever act on her feelings. That would inconveniance the mission! (Although Skoodge has picked up on this and gladly supports her, thinking they’d make an adorable couple.) After investation revealed that Zim was supposed to receive the rogue SIR units instead of her while he trashed the Megadoomer that was rightfully assigned to her, she bought into Tak’s view that Zim’s very existence was a threat to all Irkenkind, gladly assisting her efforts to eradicate him.

-Mimi and the rogue SIR units have been reprogrammed to be less insane and follow orders again thanks to Tak and Skoodge’s efforts. However, Tak also had a berserk mode installed specfically for eradicating targets with optimal, brutal efficiency. Mimi still tends to glitch though. In addition to Mimi retaining her cat holo-disguise, the berserker SIRs would gain new disguises resembling either feral cats or rabid teacup poodles. (I hadn’t decided yet.) Tenn still gets anxious around them.

-Gretchen might show up again and would possibly get to reconnect with Dib, maybe even finally be honest with him about her feelings for him when she surprises him with her surprising new position at Membrane Labs: the janitor.

-Keef will… er, uh… actually, don’t get your hopes up.

Well, I think that’s everyone important. Okay back to the plot now!

So, right up front, the biggest part of the plot as well as the biggest reason why I got uncomfortable with the whole thing was there wiould be some romance in here between a few couples and that it would have figured into the plot. The most significant of all: ZAGR (a.k.a. Zim and Gaz Relationship). But I wanted to make it feel organic and even sweet without sacrificing the feel of sardonic madness but also keeping it in the wholesome zone.

I always felt like Zim and Gaz were a natural fit for each other (like quite a few other people, admittedly) because I always felt like their personalities were a good fit and they could have a lot in common. The story would follow them as they unexpectedly developed a romantic friendship, bonding over their resentment of the Earth and humanity, their absent family members, a love of technology of questionable intent, and subjugating those who anger them. It would all start with Gaz agreeing to help Zim improve his suit and his unassuming human act just to get back at Dib for annoying her. At first they’d be acting entirely out of spite and necessity, but as they spent more time together, they’d start to enjoy each other’s company more.

Gaz would be the first develop feelings, since she voluntarily rejected the concept of love instead of being programmed to reject it like Zim, as she slowly realizes how much they have in common—much to her horror. Zim would take more time but when he begins to understand how he feels about and just what these DISGUST feelings are, he’d handle it just as poorly. (e.g. I pictured a scene where Zim has such a hard time admitting his feelings for Gaz that he ends up vomiting black goo like he’s possessed or something. For comedy of course.) But they’d both start to open up to each other in the end, if only because they’re the only two people in the universe they can stand. Gaz would try to help him overcome his anxiety and stop caring as much about what humans think of him, while he would be someone that she can actually relate to.

Dib, however, would take sincerest offense to it. He’d be totally freaking out, nearly diving off the deep end to put his plans to defeat Zim into action and expose him before he could be exposed. He’d also make a point of demanding what Gaz could see in a monster like him, even reminding her of everything that Zim had done. Probably in an exchange like this:

DIB: He stole our organs! He tried to crush the planet with Mars! He kidnapped me and threatened to turn me inside out! He tricked me into helping him teleport Earth into outer space so his rulers could destroy it! He turned me into bologna, Gaz! (*holding back tears*) BOLOGNE!

GAZ: I thought you got over that.

DIB: Well, physically I did, yes, but not mentally.

Gir would be pretty on board with it though.

The other biggest plot of the series would have been Tak’s return and the reveal of her and the Tallest’s master plan to destroy Zim once and for all: kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 by placing Zim on trial, executing him, and completing Tak’s plan to turn the planet Earth into a snack bowl for the Tallest (which she still insists is a good plan, she just never got to complete it) big enough to feed them while they watch the conquest of the rest of the universe in style. Zim and the Membranes get through to her and her squad, and possibly the other Irkens, by turning them against the Tallest to stop the Irkens once and for all. Maybe.

Finally to wrap this little nightmare up, here’s a vague outline of the stories I had planned for this wannabe whopper:

-A Whole New Nightmare – Following an amusing prologue about how Zim and Dib ended up missing the battle of Meekrob, Zim finally realizes that his natural Irken height threatens to expose his façade to all the classmates who have reached proper adolescent human height. He creates his exosuit then proceeds to cause a scene when he calls the Tallest and goes to hi-skool. Meanwhile, Gaz bugs Dib about still wasting his time bullying Zim. Zim then challenges Dib to a contest of normalcy: a series of challenges that are just overhyped normal teenage things like loitering, hanging out with friends, and finally a dance-off. Whoever loses has to admit they’re a complete weirdo and admit they’re most embarrassing secret. Dib wins the first round, but after he blows off Gaz to hang out with the other kids, she and Zim strike up a nice conversation and he wins the second round. The final dance-off ends in a draw when Zim and Dib both end up looking like total dorks. The story ends with Dib and Zim standing up for themselves against their judgemental peers, but Zim ends up overtaking his big speech and convincing his classmates to completely forget about his bizarre new appearance.

-Gaz the Befriended - Zim and Gaz make a deal: Gaz helps him fine tune his suit while posing as his "NORMAL HUMAN!" friend, and in return he helps her figure out how to control her powers while posing as her friend so she won't have to go to anger management counselling. While they do drive each other nuts, they eventually learn they have a lot in common and start acting like real friends. Dib grows suspicious of their "friendship," sets out to uncover the truth.

-They Follow - Dib goes on social media to share his findings on Zim with the world in an attempt to verify all his evidence via wisdom of the crowd. Zim finds out and retaliates by joining social media as well to make himself look like a hard luck case in an effort to gain sympathy from the (basically ignorant) public. As their war of words escalate and their follower bases grow, they end up starting a flame war that threatens to destroy society itself.

-Star Dib - Hoping to find some real help, Dib sends a message to outer space looking for reinforcements. He ends up with what remains of the Resisty, who dissolved after their crushing defeat on The Battle of Meekrob. Taking pity on them, he volunteers to become their new leader. Shenanigans ensue on a galactic level.

-C for Conspiracy - Dib stumbles across a mysterious conspiracy involving Earth tech being backwards compatible with alien tech. He wants to take it on himself, but realizes that he might actually need Zim’s help. So he has to swallow his pride and ask him for help, and as if that weren’t enough he has to put up with his and Gir’s (who tagged along) antics.

-Night of the Living Prom-goers - Prom night comes along and all the hormonally-imbalanced kids are ready to go, except for Zim, Dib, and Gaz. Until Gaz works up the nerve to ask Zim out, which he actually accepts. While Gaz prepares for her perfect tolerable evening, Dib desperately tries to convince her that Zim’s up to something while trying uncover his true motives, only for her to snap at him and challenge his views on Zim. Little do either of them know, Zim plans to use the prom as an experiment to harness Gaz’s power for his own ends. But at the same time, he ponders whether his friendship with Gaz is just a means to an end or something more. Either way it will be a night they will never forget. Or survive! Probably.

-The Return of Tak’s Revenge Rises - Tak finally returns to take her revenge on Zim and the Membrane siblings. Striking them when they least expect with the aid of an upgraded MiMi, a squad of berserk SIR units, and two fellow invaders Zim had wronged in the past.

-Doomed Together - Following Tak’s strike, the Almighty Tallest kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 with a mission of utmost importance: sending in the Irken Armada to ensure Zim is destroyed once for all so they can finally proceed with absolute universal domination. Now, Gaz, Dib, and some unlikely allies must come up with a plan to save their even more unlikely new friend and the rest of the universe from the most fearsome force in the universe! It’s basically the grand finale.

And that is all there is, or was, to Taller Tales of Terror. I can’t guarantee I’ll ever revisit it, what with all the other stuff on my plate right now, but I’m glad to have finally shared the story of my first fanfic with y’all.

So, tell me, my filthy monkey maggot mutual friends. After all that horrible rambling, what did you think?

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nureyevv · 4 years

Text

Eye-patch Chats

“So,” said Buddy, “Are there any questions about the plan?”

Juno tried to ignore the way she directed her gaze at him as she spoke, waiting for him to ask her to repeat herself. Sure, back when he was still adjusting to life on the Carte Blanche he’d asked some stupid questions, but plenty of time had passed since then and he was practically a seasoned criminal by now.

Ok, well, there was that one time last week when he’d forgotten what their objective was, but that was a complicated heist! And of course the time before that when he’d nearly overslept their departure…

Alright, fine, maybe this didn’t come naturally to him the way it did Buddy or Vespa or Jet or Nureyev or even Rita (honesty had she been running a side hussle the entire time she was his assistant?), but this time he understood her plot perfectly. He would not be supplying the kind of dumb comment she was expecting.

Except… he did have a question.

After a moment of silence as Buddy waited for his inevitable interjection, he gave in. At least this time he wouldn’t be asking about simple logistics that everyone else at the table seemed to understand already.

“I know the whole attire thing is your deal, Buddy,” he began, thinking back to their first mission when Buddy had put him a gaudy golden gown. She’d been right, though, he fit in perfectly, not that objecting got him anywhere anyways. “But, I was hoping we might skip the glass eye, considering last time I used a replacement I almost died getting rid of it-- no offense Big Guy.”

Jet shook his head. “No, you are correct. I did not anticipate your survival.”

“Well, isn’t that a vote of confidence,” Juno muttered.

“Oh, you should see him before getting a shot!” Rita interjected. “He gets all pale and grumpy and starts grumblin’ about how he can’t stand blood even though he was a detective and worked a bunch of murder cases and I always had to say ‘Mistah Steel, you get out of that windowsill right now and march on over to the doctor’s office--’”

“Alright, that’s enough of that!” he said, shooting her a look.

“Actually, I think we should recreate that scene,” added Vespa in a tone that made Juno very uncomfortable with the fact she was the only medic on the ship.

“That would be very humorous,” said Jet.

Before anyone else could jump on the ‘embarrass Juno’ train he decided to redirect the conversation to the topic at hand. “So is that a yes or no on the glass eye?”

Buddy considered for a moment before nodding. “I don’t foresee that causing any issues, although if it comes down to a matter of safety--”

“I’ll suck it up and wear the thing,” he finished for her. “Is there anything else or can we call it a day-- not that this whole conversation hasn’t been a complete joy.”

He glanced around the table at the others. Vespa was still smirking, proud of her contribution, while Rita seemed to be playing an intense game of charades with Jet that was either a continuation of their earlier conversation or a reenactment of a star combusting. To his surprise, Nureyev, sitting at his right, was silent. Sure, it wasn’t like him to jump headfirst into conversations like this, but he usually had a comment on the plan, at the very least.

Instead, his expression was blank. If Juno hadn’t known him so well he might have mistaken it for boredom, but experience told him that was the face Nureyev put on when he was lost in thought.

He’d have to ask if everything was alright once they had a free moment. Chances were he was just breaking down the next heist, plotting his own movements within what Buddy had already determined. Still, an unease settled in him.

“Yes, that’s all for today’s family meeting, “Buddy answered, pulling Juno from his thoughts. “I expect you each to spend the remainder of your day preparing.”

With that, she stood up and the table picked up it’s individual conversations.

He was about to use the cover of post-meeting chaos to ask Nureyev if he was alright, but was interrupted before he got the chance.

“Mistah Steel,” Rita said, having abandoned the game of violent gestures with Jet, “Why don’t I go ahead and fix that tracker in you comms. Sounds like you're going to need it for the big mission tomorrow.”

“Huh?” he said, his attention shifting over to Rita. “Oh, yeah, the tracker. Sure thing Rita just give me one sec--”

Looking back at where Nureyev had been he found that the thief had made one of his signature escapes while Juno had been distracted. It seemed that their conversation would have to wait until later.

Rita was staring at him with a curious look on her face as he returned to their exchange.

“Uh, here you go,” he said, fishing his comms out of his pocket. “Actually, I was wondering if you could show me how the tracker feature works. If it breaks on a job again I can’t necessarily rely on you to be there to fix it for me.”

“Are you sure, Mistah Steel?” she asked, a hint of a smile creeping onto her face. “Last time you asked me to explain something technology related you spent an hour tryin’ to figure out where the power button was-- and that’s not even counting the time ya spent claimin’ the screen was broken.”

“Well I’m still not convinced it wasn’t broken, but that’s beside the point,” he argued. Stupid computers and their stupid controls… “Anyways, can you just show me how the thing works.”

“If you insist,” Rita said with a shrug, “We should probably go to my room though, it’s pretty busy out here and I’ve got a hunch this’ll take a while…”

His eyebrows pulled together as he frowned.

“I won’t take that long,” he retorted, though he followed her to her rooms anyway.

***

It took the entire afternoon and a large portion of the evening to fix the tracker. Well, it took Rita ten minutes to do it and another hour to explain how. The rest of the time was dedicated to his attempts to repeat what she’d done and breaking the thing even worse than before.

At the end of the day they were both exhausted and Juno was nowhere closer to understanding how his comms worked. Hungry and brain dead, they’d decided to call it a day and grab a late dinner.

It wasn’t until he was about to retire to his room for the night that he actually had a chance to look at his comms. As Rita had not so subtly pointed out, he wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to technology, so he wasn’t particularly accustomed to receiving messages, especially now that most of the people who had any interest in speaking to him lived on the same ship.

As he flopped onto his bed, prepared to all but pass out, he decided to double check his inbox, just to be sure.

It was a surprise to find a question from Nureyev.

“Can we talk?” it read, short and sweet, which only made his stomach drop.

It was probably nothing, and yet… well that sure was a comforting message to receive from your ex-something.

It’d been sent around noon. As much as Juno wanted to crawl into bed and forget about his growing dread long enough to fall asleep, he couldn’t let Nureyev wait any longer in good conscience.

So, somehow he found himself trekking across the Carte Blanche in the middle of the night, the day before a mission. It didn’t occur to him until after he’d knocked on the door that Nureyev was probably already asleep.

He was just about to make a shameful retreat when the door swung open.

Nureyev, it seemed, was still wide awake. In fact, the other man was still dressed in the clothes he was wearing earlier that day, which made Juno a bit embarrassed of the T-shirt he slept in.

“Uh,” he began, noticing the quizzical look on Nureyev’s face. “I got your message”

Before he could get a response, though, he followed up his own statement with apologetic word vomit. “I just realized how late it is, though, and you probably have a ton you want to get done before tomorrow so I should go, right? Yeah I should go--”

He tried not to physically cringe at how awkward he sounded. Jeez, he was acting like Rita, but at least she made it charming.

But Nureyev only smiled in that easy way he did and motioned Juno inside. “Not at all. I’ll be up for another few hours anyway and all my preparations for tomorrow are complete. Please, come in.”

Juno obliged with an embarrassed nod. Nureyev followed him inside the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

“So I got your message,” he started again, rubbing the back of his neck when he realized he’d already said that. “I guess… I guess I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You were kind of out of it earlier today.”

At that, Nureyev laughed and shook his head. If Juno hadn’t been so drunk on the sound of that laugh he might have worried he was being mocked, but Peter had a way of easing tensions without saying anything at all. Or, at least he did when it came to Juno.

“I could have asked you the same thing,” he answered, matter-of-factly. “Have a seat, Juno.”

Juno did, settling into the edge of Nureyev’s cot. The other man took the space next to him.

“I suppose I was simply curious,” he continued with a shrug. “I may have no right to ask this of you considering how tight lipped I’ve been about my activities last year, but what were you all referring to this morning?”

Juno’s brows furrowed as he thought back to that day’s meeting.

“I thought you already knew I hated blood?”

Nureyev smiled again. “Yes, I do recall that-- although Rita’s recounts added more pizazz than you’ve ever let on. I was actually talking about the near death experience with Jet.”

Oh. Oh. He was talking about the THEIA incident.

“Again, you can tell me if I’m overstepping,” he added hastily. “You seemed quite open about it earlier but I don’t want to assume anything.”

Juno leaned back and turned his eyes to the ceiling. “No, no it’s ok. I was just… surprised.”

By which he meant he was shocked Nureyev cared how he’d spent the time they’d been apart. Maybe that was just his own guilt talking, though. He’d made the choice to stay on Mars-- everything that had happened with Ramses and THEIA was his cross to bear. He’d had the chance to get away, but he’d chosen not to-- telling Nureyev about it felt a bit like throwing that choice in his face.

But he’d asked, and Juno was tired of the awkwardness between them. If Nureyev wanted to know, then Juno would tell him all he could.

“I guess it’s just hard to know where to start,” he mused.

“Might I suggest the beginning?”

Juno laughed. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

It was a long story, but Nureyev was patient as Juno navigated through the last year. It felt a bit absurd saying it aloud. The person he’d been back then was something else entirely, so convinced his worth was determined by his aim or how many cases he solved.

There was something refreshing about how the memories had become distorted with time. It was proof things had changed, even if some topics were still sore. The image of Ramses dead in his office… the ghosts of his mother and brother… the fight for control against his own body. All of it still sent a chill up his spine, but he’d learned to let his past walk alongside him rather than keep him in place.

By the time he got to the end his eyelids were threatening to shut of their own accord, but he hoped his exhaustion wasn’t too obvious on his face.

“After that, Rita and I decided to leave Mars. I… I couldn’t fix the planet on my own but I knew if I stayed I would keep trying anyways,” he finished, purposely leaving out the part where his new life was interrupted by the presence of a man he’d never expected to see again… and was quite possibly still in love with.

“I see,” said Nureyev, speaking for the first time since Juno had begun, an intensity in his face Juno couldn’t quite name. “Juno, I’m so sorry.”

He looked at the other man with a sideways smile.

“Don’t be. I won’t say I’m glad it happened, because I’m not. It was really really shitty. But, y’know, I’m not proud of who I was back then, and I might still be that person if life hadn’t knocked some sense into me.”

“Yes,” Nureyev agreed. ‘Yes, I think I understand. You aren’t the same man as you were in the tomb. I must admit, I’m glad for that.”

Juno swallowed, a wave of doubt rushing over him. Nureyev was… glad he wasn’t the person he’d known. What did that mean? He was relieved to no longer be distracted? He was happy he had no reason to care for Juno anymore? Maybe he deserved it after leaving the way he did, but that was a bit harsh, wasn’t it? He’d just told Nureyev his life story and all he cared about was that whatever he’d been charmed by was gone.

Nureyev was looking at the floor now, but Juno had nothing more to fill the silence. To his surprise, however, Peter beat him to it.

“Back then, with Miasma and the bomb, we didn’t know it only affected martians. It’s comforting to know that, should a situation like that arise again, it would play out differently.”

Juno gaped at him. “Oh.”

So he wasn’t glad that Juno wasn’t the person he’d fallen for. Nureyev was just glad he wanted to live.

Unsure where to go with their conversation after that, Juno stood. “Well, it’s getting late, and now that you know the story behind my aversion to eye replacements, we should really get some rest before tomorrow.”

Following Juno’s lead, Nureyev got to his feet and moved to open the door for him. “Yes, of course. Good night, Juno.”

“G’night,” he answered as he crossed through the threshold. “--And Nureyev?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

The other man shot him a confused look. “For what?”

Juno shrugged. “Take your pick.”

***

Despite their late night, the next day’s mission went off without a hitch. Well, if you considered getting chased by the local authorities “without a hitch”, which Juno did.

The next few days were rather quiet. Buddy still required family meetings each day, but since they were a ways out from their next heist the discussions were rather concise. Juno spent most of his days somewhat begrudgingly watching streams with Rita. Anything to pass the time, he supposed.

He hadn’t spoken to Nureyev since the night they’d discussed THEIA ordeal, but Juno didn’t push it. He still wasn’t positive what sort of terms they were on. If Nureyev wanted to talk to him, Juno figured he would reach out.

He did, however, come across a small piece of fabric he’d never seen before on his bedside table one morning. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be an eyepatch-- a nice one, at that-- with a dahlia embroidered in gold on the front.

It didn’t have a gift tag or anything to reveal the identity of the sender aside for a scrap of scratch paper with a sentence scrawled across it.

“So you have something real to thank me for.”

#the first thing i write since quarantine and its sooo self indulgent #lit rally its just roasting juno and soft jupeter #maybe yall will like it tho #online school starts tomorrow so at least a got something out before then #jupeter #juno steel #peter nureyev #vespa ilkay #rita tpp #buddy aurinko #jet siquiliak #the penumbra podcast #tpp #tpp spoilers #kinda??#my writing

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