jakjourneys

[teecupangel]

We got to see Evor find a kind of peace or alliance with Havi. Do you ever think about how, after killing Juno, there is no way in hell Elijah will have that. That boy is going to be fighting Aita tooth and nail for the rest of his life and I don't see Aita making it easy for him. In fact, I see him as the kind of person willing to destroy everything as long as it takes his wife's killer down with him.

My personal headcanon it that Elijah’s genetic lineage served to amplify his resistance to losing his body to Aita’s memories.

Like, Valhalla, Mirage and Aita’s Sages showed the different fates a Sage can have.

They can buckle under pressure and go half mad like Valka’s mother.

Completely destroy their own psyche (although there were external forces who pushed that along) like Sigurd.

Or have their personality be rewritten like Basim.

Eivor had 2 versions of this.

The base game showed Eivor locking Odin out and this is something we’ve seen before with an Aita Sage Jacques de Molay who used his visions of Aita’s past to write his codex and suggest a more financial approach to world domination. He made no plans to find Juno or have any manic glee like Roberts or John Standish.

The final episode (or whatever that’s called) has the whole ‘inner peace’ thing and I headcanon that they grew to find peace (or atleast a truce) because Eivor left the only place they called home and was lonely. Whether Odin was truly trying to be kind or this was a ploy to get Eivor to lower their guard for him to take over is up in the air.

Going back to Elijah, my personal headcanon is that Aita wasn’t able to take a hold of Elijah’s mind because of both his genetic lineage and his willpower.

His will to remain human is further amplified by his hatred for Juno who, in many ways, caused the death of his mother to get him (it was Abstergo, sure, but many of the Templars were Juno’s pawns from the beginning).

Elijah never had an actual talk with Aita like Eivor. In some ways, he probably had a similar experience to Basim where Loki's memories appeared like a djinn BUT not have a similar experience to Basim where Loki took the form of Nehal.

To Elijah though, Aita has long been appearing like the boogeyman under his bed.

He said it so himself in the wiki

"What if your brain was already somehow different? What if you'd already learned to ignore and control voices, visions, in your head? Well then, maybe you could push him [Aita] down, just enough to access the things that he knows."

So we can say that Elijah is more of a case like Jacques de Molay who was able to keep Aita at bay, using his memories for his own benefit.

That doesn’t mean that Aita can’t try to take control after Juno’s death though.

Who knows, maybe the reason why we’ve never heard about Elijah since he faked his own death was because he’s off battling Aita internally.

It's gonna be a tough task though considering Elijah just showed that he's both stubborn and merciless.

(and not because Ubisoft is deliberately ignoring him when there have been many situations where Elijah could have been given a major role in the modern day story)

[wereh0gz]

I have a feeling sonic is gonna turn super pretty early on in the game and there's something even bigger in store for us later on

That's why they spoiled it in the thumbnail of the new trailer. Bc super sonic is reserved for final bosses and stuff like that so there's gotta be something more

[lastleggysee]

Corruption - Sage Lesath

The Last Legacy x reader brain rot continues!

Here's a blip about Sage and MC dealing with how he deals with the bloodlust or whatever.

TW: Mentions of blood, cursing/arguments - nothing graphic imo but minors DNI.

Word count: 2,770

Since dropping into Astrea, you’ve had your pick of people, places, and things to be afraid of. This world was just-similar enough to your own for you to unthinkingly sink into old habits to create a sense of normality - only for it to become shattered again at the mention of spirits, magic, and whatever mysteries of the week made themselves known. 

It’s also easy to forget that your companions, the first people you have come to know in this new world, are veterans of a terrible, bloody war. Visions of the warm smiles you’ve grown used to can barely exist in the same space in your mind as tales of the tragedies they all lived through. Even in a world without the existence of psychology and mental health awareness, the impacts of such traumas are notable. It didn’t take an expert to notice the ways Anisa’s hand flexes over her sword at shadows in the room, Felix’s constant vigilance, and Sage’s…outbursts. 

You call it a trauma response. Felix calls it corruption. Sage calls him a “know-it-all prick”, but the facts of the situation remain. Whatever magic Sage tapped into at one point has exacted a costly toll on him - body and mind. 

Sage does his best to conceal the corruption from you. To his credit, for a long while you just assumed he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed (or the gutter, or wherever it was he spent the night); that he’d allowed himself to get too hungry, or some other unspoken ailment that caused anger to flow from him so freely. 

At first, you thought maybe his eyes were just particularly bloodshot, or that there was a trick of the light in the room that made his eyes glow crimson like that. This did not explain the way the energy, the very air, around him changed so suddenly when the corruption hit. 

In the aftermath of a harrowing fight - you remember less who it was with than the concern you felt for Sage as a sword pierced him through from stomach to back - your curiosity got the best of you. 

He denied your observations, of course. He suggested it was the stress, lingering shock and adrenaline from the fight that clouded your memory. He’s fine, he’s always fine. And if you’re really that worried about him, he’d welcome a more thorough examination from you anytime. 

The first time is always happenstance. 

Felix and Anisa cautioned you to keep an eye on Sage, though both seemed hesitant to name just what you were keeping an eye on him for. You notice they have the appearance of walking and talking on unseen eggshells around him, but the group seems to get along together well enough. And besides, there are bigger fish to fry between Elowen, Rime, and whatever else (whoever else) is out there. It’s none of your business anyways. 

As fights with enemies become more frequent, so do fights amongst your friends. He “deserted” them all those years ago, you remind yourself. Seeds of distrust, once sprouted, are not so easily weeded. Never mind how accusatory Felix’s statements about loss of control, bloodlust, corruption. 

There’s only so much that can be brushed under the rug of the “heat of the moment”. Sage’s threats, despite being directed towards enemies, buzz in your ears. His voice is cold and sharp as any metal in his sword. When his eyes flash that shade of red, how much of the man you’ve come to know is still behind them? 

Is he still the man you’ve come to know, now that these moments of corruption are becoming more frequent?

*           *          *

The second time is a coincidence. 

“It’s not like you’d get it if I told you.” Sage grumbles, doing his best to brush you off. 

“So it is something, then,” you reply, past the point of pretense and politeness. “Like a tapeworm sort of something, or something different?”

Sage downs the pitcher the two of you are - were - sharing, before returning your steady gaze. His eyes are glassy, dark circles forming underneath them like an oil spill. He chews on nothing in particular, before responding to you in a tone so hushed you have to strain to make sure you weren’t just imagining things. 

“This thing in me,” his lip trembles ever so slightly. “…when it takes over, it lights me up.”

“It lights you up.”

“That’s why I don’t say anything,” Whatever moment of vulnerability he’d opened the door to is slammed shut with the scoff of his laugh. “Forget it.”

“Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to understand.” you struggle to maintain composure. 

“Oh, believe me, if I had a choice I wouldn’t be anything like this.” 

He abruptly stands, ordering another pitcher of ale (gods only know how he managed to pay for it) and putting fish everywhere to shame with how fast he drinks it. You’ve almost decided to drop the topic entirely when the tremble in his voice continues. 

“Once it starts, that feeling is all that’s there,” he begins. “Whatever it is, it lights me up. I feel it everywhere.”

“Sage, that’s adrenaline. It’s a normal response.” Something inside you, small and frantic, but something nevertheless, cries out for you to comfort him. You search his face, half-shadowed from behind the veil of his hair. 

“You don’t get it. I can barely do anything to work against it,” his golden eyes meet yours, gaze so intense you almost wish he hadn’t. “It’s a bush fire. The second I slip up it’s waiting to burn me from the inside out.”

For the rest of the night, he only answers to the bartender. 

*           *          *

The third time is a pattern. 

“Could you at least pretend to give half a shit about yourself?” 

You’re yelling at the back of Sage’s shoulders. The crash of his boots against the ground echoes, amplified by his cold silence. You’d do as good to admonish a brick wall, but your ire demands an audience. 

Sage hadn’t ever been the type of man to plan, but his actions as of late have become nothing short of reckless. Between Balsam’s death, Rime’s attacks, and the thinning patience of all members of the Starsworn, hardly a day passed without the telltale flash of red in Sage’s eyes. 

It matched perfectly now with the fresh splatters of red, dark against his cloak. 

“Sage! I’m talking to you!” This would be comical if you weren’t on the edge of tears from sheer frustration. 

“Sounds more like talking to yourself to me.” he all but snarls.

Felix planned a stakeout. The night ended in ambush; soldiers of the Lord of Shadows would’ve overwhelmed your small group if it hadn’t been for Sage. At first, you attempted to dissuade him from giving in to whatever it was that allowed him to move like that - almighty, commanding, and all but feral. After one of their shadowy weapons landed a blow to Anisa’s forearm, and another nearly trampled you, any protest you could’ve uttered would’ve fallen on deaf ears. 

Your pride is bitter as you swallow it. “You’re hurt. Wait a second and let me-”

“I don’t need your damned magic,” he exclaims. His voice is hoarse, rough. You barely make out something under his breath about the gash on the back of his neck will stitch itself back together, along with a few words that sound like curses in another language. 

“You’re still bleeding,” you do your best to match his pace, but the weariness in your muscles is taking over. “There’s no reason for you to track that shit all over Astrea.”

His spit is tinged with pink before it settles in the dirt somewhere to his left. Sage isn’t sure if the taste of blood in his mouth is his own, or if the flavor of someone else’s remains. His ears twitch of their own volition, privy to more sounds than Sage should be able to hear normally. Normally. Your pace is gradually slowing, he can make out from your arrhythmic footsteps and the sharp draw of your breath. A bird drills into a tree somewhere. Gnats frantically gather and then scatter around the sites of his wounds. If he tried, and if it wouldn’t surely be the thing to drive him to madness. Sage can feel the individual atoms around him vibrating one by one - or is that just his own hands trembling? There’s just too much going on right now. A growl escapes his lips before he’s able to contain it.

“...and what are you even hoping to do anyways, covered in blood like that? Scare the shit out of the first bartender you come across -” 

“I’m trying to get the fuck away,” he forces each word out through clenched teeth, as though they scald his tongue on their way out. 

“Away.” Your exasperation breaks way to full indignation. “You want to get away? Great. I’ll even help your sorry ass get away,” a string of colorful curses punctuates your sentence as you trip and nearly fall face-first onto the ground before righting yourself. Sage continued forward at the same pace, placing you a few additional yards behind him. “Just let me heal you first.”

Sage laughs, a sound as cold as the sound of his blade striking another only too soon ago. You falter.

“There’s nothing any of you can do to help me.” he spits again. “It’s too late.”

Somehow his words enter your ears and descend directly to your feet, holding you in place. Your mouth is dry. Sage continues to push through foliage to get further away. Your eye twitches involuntarily as the magic you’d called to your hands with the goal of healing Sage abruptly changes intention. 

“Oh, get over yourself!” you yell, half-certain your gestures have been in vain and that he’d end up wandering off for gods knows how long before turning back up at Fathom, bloody as the last day you saw him. If he comes back at all, that is. 

Your hypothesis is disproven when he stops in his tracks. However, you’re too incensed to stop now. A string of pejoratives is hurled in his direction, punctuated with gestures you know he is unable to see but that have to be shown regardless.

Sage counts his breaths as you curse him. He’s almost gained enough composure to begin piecing together a plan - where was he hoping to go, anyway? - when one of your comments hooks itself under his skin. 

“..and while you’re at it, stop acting like you’re some kind of fucking monster!”

“Scuse me?!” he belts, turning to face you. His skin feels hot, the bloodstained clothes he’s wearing too-tight. “I’ll call it whatever the fuck I want!”

“Of course you will!” frustrated stomps meeting the ground punctuate your words as you move closer to Sage. The flush of color in your cheeks and tears threatening to spill from your eyes almost break his resolve, but the iron of your words sharpen his own indignation. 

“You say it’s what you want, but you really just call it whatever makes it easiest for you. It still doesn’t make it true.”

Every cell in Sage’s body screams in agony - how could you of all people have misunderstood him so deeply? 

“Easy? You think being like this is easy!?” Harsh words fall from Sage’s serrated-knife tongue. Some part of him is hoping to provoke you, to finally have you as angry with him as he deserves, to burn this bridge once and for all before he convinces himself he’s worthy to cross it again. “Before you even wake up in the morning I’m already drowning in this shit. Corruption, whatever you want to call it. And then every godsdamned second afterwards, I’m holding every scrap of myself together with a thread -”

“I didn’t say it’s easy - nothing is fucking easy.” You take another deep breath, hoping to steady yourself, but the words flow from you nonetheless. “But you call yourself a monster, and a freak, and damaged, and that makes it easier for you. It makes you FEEL better. You’re the big bad monster and everyone should hate you - just like you hate yourself. You get to be right all along. And then you get to be the hero for taking yourself away from us.”

“You don’t know anything about how I feel.” Sage’s accusation is forbidding, the white hot-ire having passed its boiling point and settling to a cold contempt. 

“Well shit, there’s something we can agree on! But it’s because you never say anything about how you feel. Never show anything either  until it’s all but fucking BLEEDING out of you.”

“Haven’t you noticed? That’s how I am. And this is WHAT I am.” Sage gestures to the blood rapidly drying on his gauntlet. “If you want to get pissed about it, that's your problem, not mine.”

“We’re fucking teammates, Sage. We’re each other’s godsdamned problems -”

“Don’t start that shit. Half of the times you’ve almost gotten killed have been because of ME. I gave you every godsdamned opportunity to get away from me.”

“Oh poor you!” You let out a sardonic half-laugh, half-sob. “It’s so hard, right? It’s so hard for YOU to have someone, anyone, who gives half a shit about you. If you wanted me gone so bad, why didn’t YOU just leave?”

He’s silent. Sage has left, deserted, his friends before. His hands shake as flashes of their faces, their funeral pyres, the plots of land once their homes smoldering in the dirt - his fault. Sage is not naive enough to believe he could have stopped the Lord of Shadows or his minions from razing his comrades to the ground - but a part of him wishes he’d gone down with them. If he’d gotten what he deserved, it’d be his ashes scattered underneath Porriman’s boots. 

You get no reply, and make no reply yourself. You sit, your back pressing heavily into the bark of the tree you rest upon. If not for Sage’s tail flicking back and forth he could’ve been a statue, muscles clenched tight and unmoving gaze fixed on a point far behind you. 

He sighs, sending a puff of condensation out like a rain cloud. Although still, Sage’s mind was moving a thousand miles a minute. This was nothing in comparison to his heart. 

“Sorry.” Sage says, his voice raw and raspy from your argument. He moves closer to you, slow steps heavy with compunction. “I’m not saying you’re right. I’m just sorry.”  

“I’m not asking for you to be sorry, and I’m not asking to be right. I’m asking to be your teammate. How can you expect to trust me, or anyone for that matter, if you can’t even trust yourself?” You don’t look in his direction when you reply, instead gazing above at the sky and blinking back tears of frustration.

This is the reason you’ve been alone. This is the price you pay for your power - loss of control, and loss of everyone around you. This, and your words, buzz in Sage’s ears. 

You reach up, taking his hand in yours, and pull it until you get his attention. “You can trust me, you know.”

The second your skin meets his, the buzzing stops. Sage looks down at you, barely able to make out your words. The night sky reflects in your pupils, dazzling back at him. His protests die in his throat. 

“And none of that ‘about as far as you can throw me’ shit.” you chide. His palm is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, his skin feels fevered. “I know nothing is easy, but I’m willing to work on it if you are. Together - like a team does.”

Together. The word felt foreign in Sage’s mind; he couldn’t imagine hearing the syllables form to make the word come out of his mouth. He can remember brief moments from his past where he felt at peace with the word, he can remember the grief from times when together was a promise fate couldn’t keep. Tulsi. Balsam. Lucan. Felix and Anisa, all those years ago. 

While Sage’s mind is unsure of how to answer your proposal, his body responds with the clenching of his hand around your own. His fingers entwine with yours, squeezing lightly. Together. 

“Don’t get all mushy on me,” Sage mumbles. “Now, is it too late for you to take a look at that cut on my back?”

Sage doesn’t know much about magic, but he believes without a doubt the smile on your face did the healing job better than a spell could.

[mythicamagic]

“Call it a truce”

(For the prompt if you’d like)

They'd crossed paths eight times now inside the godforsaken maze. Naraku had placed them under some sort of spell- Kagome wasn’t totally sure if her friends were also somewhere inside. It had all happened way too quickly. One second she’d been fighting alongside her comrades- the next, waking up inside a bizarre hellscape.

Sadly the only person she’d seen thus far was Sesshoumaru of all demons. When they’d first bumped into each other- blue and gold had narrowed- both quickly turning in the opposite directions.

Gradually, however, time wore on. A continuous mist obscured every corner of the black maze, its towering walls strangled by twisting, thorny vines. Red skies hung overhead, a barrier likely preventing Sesshoumaru from flying upwards, otherwise he would've escaped by now.

Kagome had just one arrow and one weathered bow. No food, and no water. Just the clothes on her back and strung out nerves, wits starting to fray at the edges. Her footsteps sounded too loud in the empty space. The mist kept rolling, making her paranoid- imagining salivating demons and evil spirits haunting her steps.

Am I going to die in here?

Gritting blunt teeth, Kagome let out a frustrated noise- wrapping her hands around the nearest thorny vines and letting reiki burst free from her fingertips. Maybe she could just blast her way through the wall. Pink light glowed like a signal flare, shimmering and giving her a brief taste of renewed hope.

“It will not work.”

She frowned, registering Sesshoumaru’s acerbic tone. Just as he’d said, when her holy light died, the thorns remained.

Kagome glanced over her shoulder, finding him closer than expected. She shifted warily to maintain some distance. They’d refrained from talking so far during their encounters in the maze. This was unexpected. And worrying. If Sesshoumaru was out of options, things were dire.

“Flying is a no go, I’m guessing?"

He stiffly nodded in response, head tilting back to gaze hatefully at the high walls. Kagome shivered, wrapping both arms around herself. “Damn it. I have no idea what to do. I can sense Naraku’s youki but it's everywhere so there's no chance of pinpointing him. It’s soaked into the air like gasoline."

"I am also unable to locate the wretch."

Kagome blinked, glad he was reciprocating conversation.

"We're locked in a spell or under a curse, I’ve got no doubt about that. I just don’t know if these are our real bodies or not…”

Were they trapped somewhere mentally? Caged like birds?

Sesshoumaru levelled a look down to her hands, gesturing with a claw. “The cuts do not hurt?”

Kagome blinked, flexing her fingers. She hadn’t even realised they’d been pricked by the thorns. “N-no.”

“Then it appears he has either somehow trapped us within a space that has absorbed our conscious minds or put us in an area that dulls the senses. Perhaps a keeper box of some kind," Sesshoumaru said easily, as though he did this all the time.

Kagome’s heart pumped at a dizzying speed. Keeper box. She'd been in one of those before. The face of sage Tokajin came to mind. “Crap,” she whispered.

"Unpleasant memories, miko?" a lofty, entertained tone brushed her hearing.

Kagome sneered half-heartedly, "it's nothing."

Sesshoumaru's eyes glowed, smiling. As if he could see right through her. "Hn."

“We gotta get out of here," she said dismissively. "Since this is Naraku we’re dealing with- I doubt just finding the centre of this maze will let us get outta here and break the curse, and knowing him there’s no exit.”

“Hn, and yet I can think of nothing else after trying everything."

Kagome gave him a sweeping glance over, swallowing. She hadn’t seen him since he’d nearly killed Kohaku- still thankful he’d released the mind controlled boy.

They were still technically enemies despite a shared goal of killing Naraku.

Steeling herself, Kagome took a breath. She then boldly stuck a hand out towards him. “Let’s work together. We haven’t got much choice. Call it a truce.”

Silence.

Kagome chanced a look at his face.

Sesshoumaru merely stared at the offered hand unblinkingly. Kagome giggled weakly. “A-ah, you shake it. It’s an ‘across the seas’ type of gesture to show we’re sealing a deal.”

Interest livened his animalistic gaze. He briefly seemed considering, perhaps wondering about her origins. Long fingers unfurled from his palm, clasping her hand strongly. The shock of skin to skin contact and sharp claws nearly jerked Kagome enough to rip her hand free. She forced herself to stay still, feeling a surge of something shoot down to her toes.

He was warmer than expected. It surprised her that callouses roughened his palm, likely from years of swordplay. She'd always figured he was too inhumanly perfect to have such a thing. Sesshoumaru blinked slowly, remaining locked in a stare. For a moment, Kagome dumbly admired his pretty white lashes.

She caught herself staring and briskly shook his hand, prying her fingers free before gesturing to several pathways, cheeks red. “S-so which way?”

Mokomoko’s soft fur caressed the bare flesh of her lower thigh in passing as Sesshoumaru stepped towards one. “I have yet to take this path. Stay close, troublesome miko," he threw over one shoulder. "I will not slow down for you.”

“Please don’t. You walk slow enough as it is,” Kagome griped, following.

---

Demons began littering the narrow, claustrophobic spaces within the maze. Kagome had to duck and weave around Sesshoumaru as he killed them with acid or fierce swipes of his claws. It forced them to get up close and personal, occasionally plastering miko and Daiyoukai together.

His scent wafted into her unwilling nose more than once- masculine and sharp, reminding her of thunderstorms. Since she couldn’t use her reiki with much finesse yet and the close quarters put her archery skills at a disadvantage, Kagome tried her best to be helpful.

“Behind you!” she’d yell, ducking under his arm before grasping his sleeve. “On your right!”

Sesshoumaru dispatched enemies without argument or complaint, calmly moving on once they lay dead.

As time dragged on, Kagome’s legs began to ache from the endless walking. Her stomach grumbled near constantly. Her limbs and body were becoming weak.

She didn’t breathe a word about it- though noticed Sesshoumaru’s lingering attention. Turning a corner, she stumbled, an arm catching her around the waist, steadying.

Kagome’s belly fluttered, and she quickly straightened. “Thanks.”

“Hn.”

They book occasional breaks, but respite was near impossible with the continued droves of enemies. After what she could only guess to be at least 17 hours- though it felt like days, they finally arrived at the centre of the maze. Exhausted, Kagome kept a hand buried within mokomoko to keep her upright, leaning against the stability he offered. They’d shed a lot of restraint about touch around hour 9 of their journey.

As first suspected however, there was nothing in the middle of the maze. Just a plain space with a single fountain. They hadn’t come across a single exit either.

Kagome’s knees quivered a little, “d-do you have a plan B?” she rasped, throat dry. What she wouldn’t give for some water.

Sesshoumaru stared grimly ahead, slowly lowering his calm attention to her. If she could hazard a guess, he was likely thinking he could survive. He’d weather the storm of hunger and dehydration much longer than she.

“I suspect the reason Naraku lingers is because he predicted I would kill you,” his velvety voice was completely at odds with his words.

Kagome stiffened, leaning slightly away from the warmth of luxurious furs. “...That would make sense,” the admission slipped out, “he’s a sadistic prick. He’s probably watching us right now, getting his kicks from seeing us struggle.”

Sesshoumaru turned to her, lifting a clawed hand. The sharp points gleamed. They could tear through her supple flesh and bones with ease. Kagome had witnessed it enough times to know.

Rendered completely exhausted though, she had little room left for fear. She stared at him blandly, falling quiet.

He arched a brow, resting those deadly claws against her flushed skin, gradually unfurling to hold her neck. “You will not resist?”

“I’ve never taken you to be the kinda guy who would take the easy way out,” Kagome muttered, raising her chin. “Am I wrong?”

Was it her imagination or did his pupils dilate a touch?

She shivered, feeling the pads of his fingers drag against the nape of her delicate neck, thumb resting at her throat.

“No,” he rumbled softly, gripping tighter and drawing her in closer. “But since we have an audience, miko,” his voice lowered, “let us give him a show.”

Blue eyes widened- seconds before lips crashed to hers. Kagome gasped- and a sinuous tongue took advantage, shoving inside to plunder her mouth. Sensation slammed into her gut. Suddenly she was immediately aware of everything. The warmth of his palm, the dry rub of his callouses along her neck. The goosebumps rising on her flesh. How his tongue skilfully played, twined and slid against her own- and she found herself responding.

His lips were hot and quick across her own, firm and yielding and then parting to meet her tongue with his anew. Kagome’s breath shuddered. Her entire body thrummed. She found herself touching the fine, soft locks of silver hair behind his ear, strands running through her fingers like water. Their mouths broke apart, and Kagome could only give a breathy gasp as he sucked along the bent arch of her throat.

“Behind me, to the left,” he whispered, kissing her flesh bruisingly hard.

“I know,” she panted.

It happened quickly. They moved in sync- Kagome reaching for her bow and nocking her single arrow while Sesshoumaru turned, angling her to fire at the faint ripple in the sky they’d both sensed the second they’d kissed.

While the blazing firework of pure holy energy streaked into the air, the Daiyoukai followed its progress, flying with Kagome in tow. She held on around his shoulders, praying with all her might it would break through.

Her arrow pierced the demonic barrier- shattering the weak spot immediately. Sesshoumaru broke through, leaving the world of red skies and unsolvable mazes behind.

---

Kagome sucked in a gasping, strangled breath, shooting upright.

“Kagome! She’s awake, guys!”

Putting a hand to her head, she looked to her side- only to be greeted with the sight of Sesshoumaru sitting up from the ground, both of them having been sprawled out. Around them, battle raged. Inuyasha was fighting diligently, swiping madly at continuous rounds of regenerating tentacles.

Miroku and Sango seemed to be on guard duty, having been defending their unconscious bodies. Shippo immediately buried his face in Kagome’s arm, holding onto her. “You’ve been asleep for a good hour after you were both hit by that attack! Naraku kept trying to kill you! Ah- I’m so glad you’re safe!”

Kagome comforted him with a few gentle pats upon his head, murmuring softly. The shifting of weight caught her attention, and she watched as Sesshoumaru stood. He sneered softly to himself, “I do not know why you saw fit to protect this one, but I did not need your aid, humans.”

“I told ya!” Inuyasha shouted from somewhere in the distance.

“We couldn’t let you be absorbed by Naraku or he’d be even more formidable,” Sango griped.

“What my friends mean to say is- you’re welcome, Lord Sesshoumaru,” Miroku amiably smoothed over the situation.

Sesshoumaru grunted, securing his swords in place. Then, slowly, his eyes lowered.

Kagome exhaled a shuddering breath. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, cheeks burning with all the voracity of a fever, chest light and heavy all at once. Sesshoumaru’s gaze fell to the subtle parting of her mouth, before looking her in the eye for just one more lingering moment. He then moved out from behind the protection Sango and Miroku offered, racing headfirst into battle.

He just did it to break the spell, that’s all.

He’d kissed her to help flush out a weak spot from their enemy, which had opened from Naraku's shock- having lost brief control of the spell. Thinking about it as anything more than that would be foolish.

Shaking herself, Kagome followed suit. She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow, pushing down all confused thoughts and sensations that Sesshoumaru’s wicked mouth had elicited- entering the fray alongside her friends.

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Usami Tokishige

🎵 This may become a little brutal If I'm honest but It's any-anything for you my dear, I promise 🎶 You can figure our what I was listening to while writing this piece. Anyway, hope you’ll like it, anon!  You can check tosikowrites tag for more.  Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

The fact that Usami fell in love and now can’t shut up about them is not that surprising since the soldiers of the 7th Division have already witnessed his unhealthy obsession with the First Lieutenant. The dangerous aura of infinite adoration he carries does not bother others as much as well, maybe, because now his cursed energy has more output options, you know? It is not concentrated on one person and seems not so intense. Seems.

No matter how wild his fantasy runs, Usami behaves himself in their presence. Of course, his nerves are as taut as a rope since if he loosens up his attention he may not contain his passion…Chooses words carefully so as not to push them away and comes across as a lovely bubbly young man with the cutest smile! Even sitting in silence together is special. Usami can’t quit staring at them, they are so majestic!

He wants to follow them everywhere. Eat together, go on morning walks together, sleep together. Usami is a human version of burdock that will either quite by accident bump into his crush every other day or shamelessly ask them if they will be in this specific place or if they want to go there with him.

Personal boundaries? Don’t know her. As soon as his loved one gives him green light, Usami’s hands are all over the place. If he isn’t pinching their pink cheeks then he is patting their head. If he isn’t patting their head, he might be squeezing their ass. Usami is all about physical affection in every possible way, and it is extremely important for him to touch his partner. He might even lose it when they put a hand on his knee or take him by the hand, leave alone anything spicier.

Usami will end anyone who steps between him and his loved one. For him this is a cut-throat axiom, it is as natural as breathing, and it should be obvious to the surrounding. Anyone who wants to separate them automatically signs their own death sentence that will be carried out immediately by Usami himself.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

To be friends with the rabid Superior Private, you have to be a mad lad with no moral compass (the questionable moral compass is ok too) just like him or be a literal angel with the patience of a sage and a heart of gold to deal with the chaos Usami brings into your life. Also, this person has to have impeccable reflexes just in case he decides to cut this friendship off. Takagi Tomoharu didn’t and where is he now?

With such a friend, nothing is scary. Friendship with Usami provides invulnerability in situations where an ordinary person would think twice. In addition to that, Tokishige doesn’t really look for troubles and prefers to spend time like a real hedonist: red-light district workers know his preferences very well, the owner in his favorite diner always meets him with a question “the usual?”, and Usami knows places to hang around in general. His friend gets to experience life delights with him as well.

He needs so much attention! If it was up to him, Usami would spend at least an hour every day with them even when they have already talked about every single thing in the world. Everyday chats about nothing are cool, mutual flattery is appreciated. These points lead to Usami being overly possessive: if his best friend suddenly starts spending more time with someone else, he will definitely take action against this stumbling block.

Demands that his friend to follow the “the enemy of my friend is my enemy” rule. They are obligated to get embittered at Ogata. No, Usami doesn’t explain why, they just have to.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Usami has restless ass syndrome. It’s like restless legs syndrome but with ass: he can’t sit still for more than 15 minutes. Cuddles do not last longer than that and often progress into steamy making out. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to cuddle though. Usami prefers to do it while leaving some space for moving so the leg hug is just perfect. Any other position including classical spooning feels like a rabbit trap.

If his partner is bigger than he is, Usami will definitely lie on their chest with legs wiggling up in the air. First of all, now he can see their lovable face, and second of all, he is on top which means being in control.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Eeeh. Does he want to settle down? No, not really. Let’s say, there was no reason for him to think about settling down but even if there was, Usami would aggressively shake his head in negation. He is, just like Koito, too young to plan a quiet family life, and, at the moment, living on the wheels without thinking up ahead seems much more exciting than being chained to one place with one person. In his head, things are kind of overexaggerated but the answer to the question is still no for the next 10 years for sure.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It is highly unlikely that Usami will break up with his partner in a proper manner. Self-deprecating comments and taking the blame for a failed relationship have no place in his explanation if he even decides to talk about it. Most likely Usami will leave them as spontaneously and unexpectedly as he popped up in their life in the first place: hops on a horse, gives them short indifferent look over the shoulder, and fades into the darkness of the night to never be seen again. Maybe, it’s for the better since Usami doesn’t have to face the fact he has nothing to say. Well, he chooses to be silent since crushing them with disinterest that makes the kid throw the old toy into the toybox doesn’t please him either. No check-ups, no letters, no “let’s stay friends”.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Avoids this question to the last minute because he is too young to commit and jump into family life. Usami reminds me of the type of person who wants to experiment in youth so that in old age he would not regret missing exciting opportunities. There is not a chance he will propose until he comes to the conclusion that he has already seen and experienced the most impressive stuff. So, maybe, from 7 to 10 years? Most definitely feels neutral about having an affair or two since he has a pretty lenient conscience.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Emotionally? Absolute emptiness with, perhaps, distorted memories of family love arising here and there. His feelings are strong, aggressive, filled with preceding excitement before the upcoming fun. Calm states of mind such as serenity, clarity, boundless love are too underwhelming for Usami. Wouldn’t call him gentle in the physical sense either: life is motion, and he has to move or do something, anything to feel alive, and impatience makes his moves rough and harsh. Even in a gentle embrace, it seems that he squeezes his loved one to their ribs cracking. He kisses them out until they want to slip out of his hands like a gasping fish. They may like it, they may not, but Usami doesn’t loosen his love grip and remains a (little) wild in the relationship.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Usami hugs them at the most unexpected moments, takes them by storm to squeeze the hell out of them. Perhaps these are his favorite ones, to pick them up high and spin, leaving their legs tingling in the air like a ragdoll.

His hands never stay in one place. Feeling their warm body under the fingertips is indescribable pleasure so Usami gives himself free rein to rub their back, squeeze their sides, press them to his chest, and nuzzle into their neck. He may bite them as well.

Can’t stand to be hugged when he is obviously busy to the point where Usami can kinda gently push them away but sees no problem when he does the same to his partner. Believes that everything can be forgiven for his big puppy eyes (and other particular qualities).

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Casually says it on like the second day of official dating over the cup of tea. Hard to say if he is for real so confident in his feelings or if he does it to check their reaction but nevertheless. Usami looks his loved one right in the eyes with undisguised beaming complacency, and his confession is short, definite, and unobjectionable. Propping his chin with his pale hands, he immediately returns to the casual conversation and keeps going joyfully about whatever on his mind like Usami didn’t just murmur how he is in love with them forever and for ever. After that, he is elated. Confession is a kind of seal of belonging to him, consent of another person is optional, it doesn't matter at all, all that does it that they are his and he is theirs.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

This shit is scary for everybody involved. Usami doesn’t get jealous per se but he has a strong feeling of having his loved one in his possession. Should someone try to covet his partner as hell breaks loose: regardless of who exactly was the initiator, - his loved one or another person, - Usami immediately takes action. In his mind, his partner can’t be guilty of infidelity, they were simply coerced into foul play and have to be taught how to recognize such a thing, they are innocent. This awful other person is different though, they are the ones who need to be taught some manners.

To start a fight Usami needs one dirty look, one carelessly thrown word. This is just an excuse to allow himself to take out all the anger on the poor soul. If Koito likes to gab hours on end but secretly hoping to avoid getting physical, Usami sees talking as a waste of time. Of course, if one fight is not enough, then Usami can go in for murder.

After the accident, he acts a lot rougher with his partner forcing them deeper into submission. To maintain ego and control and to be sure that they know their place, Usami needs praise, persuasion, and tons of physical affection.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Loves the concept of kissing, loves to kiss, and to be kissed. Sees every kiss as a personal signature but also, on another level, rewarding pastime so Usami is all about steamy make-out sessions. He is eager and rough, oftentimes marks his partner in visible areas with not only bright hickeys but with straight out bites. The look of dark crescents from his teeth scattering on their delicate neck turns Usami on like nothing else.

Likes to be kissed all over the body, would prefer them to be as rough though since casual soft kisses don’t really set a mood for him. The same goes for them, Usami won’t leave a spot unkissed on their body. Has a thing for the neck, wrists, and insides of the thighs.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Don’t let him around kids because it seems like Usami is good at it but in reality, he just builds up an army of naughty children to throw eggs at the neighbor's door. He like a devil coerces the goody angel into a mini-revolution under the nose of parents without offering any candy. Give this man a free hand, remove Tsurumi from his life, and you’ll see Usami growing into a cult leader. So, yes, he is pretty good with children older than like 5-6 years old, can’t do shit with babies younger than that. Usami hasn’t thought about being a father himself because beyond pranks and fun he knows absolutely nothing, zero, nada about raising children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Incredibly active and varied if Usami managed to fall asleep before midnight the day before. He unceremoniously wakes his partner up either covering their face with kisses or pulling the blanket off them or starting a pillow fight. Expects his loved one to rise and shine without spending an hour just sitting here with an empty stare in the void.

Even when Usami collapses in the bed at dawn, it is possible that he will accidentally wake them up with a sweeping elbow blow to the nose. During the cold season, his partner should be ready to wake up trembling without a blanket. This bastard steals it every other night.

It is rare to see Usami cooking or doing anything useful at all in the house in the morning. He prefers to wander around while his partner lays the table and talk out loud to himself.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Unpredictable. He may get lost for an evening, come back with no explanation (we all know he was up to no good), and crash next to them with a smug smile. Other nights Usami can’t leave them alone: it feels like it is vital for him to fiddle with their fingers, play with their hair, pull them into a tight hug. The maximum relaxation effect is achieved with a couple of bitter sake shots drunk before meals.

Sleeping. Nobody canceled messed up sleeping schedule (check out the last letter of the alphabet) so Usami may have to make up for it by going to bed as early as 8 p.m.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Opens up slowly but doesn't pay much attention to what exactly he is saying. Everything that has happened to the present moment is already history so Usami treats it as such. What once pleased or upset him does not evoke any strong emotions now and he easily reveals his past to the loved one. Usami, of course, avoids mentioning the murder of his friend but with a partner who very clearly shows their loyalty, he will not hesitate to describe how much it turned him inside out and changed him, opening doors to the darkest corners of his soul. In return, Usami asks his loved one tons of questions from favorite color to a relationship with their mother, feeling free to ask the most intrusive ones.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He is in the state of the boiling kettle 24/7, ready to whistle for any given reason. Not that he is that angry, but definitely in an unstable state of mind. When he gets pissed off, Usami doesn't change in the face, except that his smile can get even wider baring sharp small teeth. In most cases, other people have to restrain his anger so the military does a good job at keeping Superior Private in check with an iron fist out of battles and letting him go wild when the situation requires it.

In the relationship, Usami teeters on the brink just like the outside of it but his reactions to upsetting situations are milder and are easily resolved by sublimating desire to destroy into intense workout, make out, etc. He is easy to blow out but he tries really hard to do not harm his loved one.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

There is a whole room in his mind palace to store volumes of information about the loved one. Usami thrives on discovering different aspects of his partner’s personality in deep conversations and in characteristic behavior that he enjoys so much to observe. Therefore, nothing goes unnoticed.

Perfectly navigates the tone of their voice: Usami knows exactly how their sadness sounds when they try to veil it with cheerful words and when to step back when they rise their voice in a fit of anger. Awfully useful with a person who has a hard time communicating and/or expects others to understand them just like that.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He doesn’t have a favorite one. All meaningful moments like the first meeting, first kiss, other first times occupy equally important places in his heart so if asked Usami will murmur how every second with them is unthinkably precious and he can’t pick just one!

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Ready to faithfully protect his partner in the most dangerous situations. It is obvious, isn’t it? Usami will cover them like a shield on the battlefield, but most of the time he prefers to eliminate the source of danger: thanks to a state of perpetual alert and intense adrenaline rush, he can ignore multiple injuries for hours while shooting off foes. Usami lacks the voice of reason so he tends to overreact when it is completely out of place.

Oh, Usami doesn’t let anybody touch his loved one. As soon as he sees a hand reaching to them, he reflexively grabs it if not twists it with excessive force. Strangers understand they should not mess with Usami from his piercing look but there is always a fool who tempts fate in vain.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Not that much. He doesn't bother planning dates and gifts but sometimes there are moments of enlightenment that make Usami sit down and think about how to impress his loved one in a good way. Most of the time he prefers spontaneity to foresight since in his mind whatever is fun to him will work for them too.

Anniversaries are the dates when Usami is all sweetness and light: he runs around his loved one ready to bend over backward for their enjoyment. Seriously, he is ready to be used as a footrest for the whole day if it’s what they want.

Slacks on everyday tasks though, he is great at avoiding daily chores under the stupidest pretext.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I won't even start talking about how unhinged he is, you should have had figured it out by now. I just have to mention again that this is an integral personality trait and Usami cannot physically change it. Take it or leave it. He is not forcing anybody to participate in his violent misadventures but he won’t tolerate attempts to stop them.

Control freak, Usami thinks he owns a person when in the relationship. He quite seriously believes that he is in control of their life and can decide whether they can or cannot do particular things. Of course, if they do not act in accordance with Usami’s wishes, they will be punished to prevent further misbehavior.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Usami’s skin is naturally silky and he likes to keep it this way despite the harsh weather conditions. Nobody knows if he is using any creams or other cosmetics but the fact remains: his face is almost baby-like soft. Also, running men tattoos fade quickly due to their location so Usami has to renew them quite often. He does it with enviable regularity and forbids everyone (except his partner and First Lieutenant) to touch his cheeks. His clothes are in fair condition as well as his shoes. Usami wears his clothes neatly, and never wears them off to the holes and patches.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

All attempts to break up with Usami end with his theatrical chuckle and short “good joke, darling”: they are not going anywhere until he allows them to do so. The more times his partner brings this dumb question up, the angrier he gets, barely hiding it behind biting his lips. By the time his patience bursts, Usami has already come up with a plan to keep them by his side, voluntarily or compulsorily. If they decide to leave him because they didn’t get enough attention and affection, Usami will try to fulfill their every whim. If they express their concerns regarding his behavior, Usami will learn how to hide unsightly features better. All in all, he is not going to let them go just because they want to. It seems that the risk of ending on the side of the road gives him even more fervor to fight for their love.

The only thing that remains for his loved one is to leave Usami with no farewell letter left behind. Otherwise, they risk gaining a stalker with military experience under his belt. Not the best combination if you ask me.

If they were killed, Usami one hundred percent will find their murderer and tear them apart. Literally. He snaps, he is not going to hold back any longer.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Must be an obvious one but Usami is a kinky bastard. He tries such things to which no adequate person would agree or if they did it is unlikely that they would tell anyone about it. This applies not only to sexual behavior, he is eccentric in general, he is not held back by social rules and limits of decency. Usami would set few things on fire just to see how long it takes each to burn to the crisps. Sucks fingers and toes. I don’t know, he does everything you are kind of uncomfortable to do. Might fuck around and start another war idk.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Can’t handle boring people. Looking at what he considers “boring” people tells that it includes people with no character, withdrawn from society and recent events, silly and predictable ones. First, most likely they would not interact with Usami considering how unhinged he is. He is more trouble than he is worth, you know. And secondly, Usami doesn’t notice them in the crowd. If his loved one happens to be too boring, he will leave them, sooner or later.

Anyone standing between him and First Lieutenant can forget about any relationship with Usami. It is impossible. The gears in his head are spinning like crazy to come up with a perfect plan and get away with their murder. No hard feelings, but Usami’s obsession with Tsurumi isn’t going anywhere, and the only scenario he can agree with is dating someone who if doesn’t support it then at least doesn’t try to ward him off of it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

His sleep schedule is an absolute mess with no hint of changing in the future. First of all, Usami sleeps 4-6 hours per day, can’t sleep during the day so he doesn’t take naps and doesn’t nodes off. At the same time, these short hours of sleep do not stick to night time only: sometimes Usami decides to go to bed at 3 a.m. still full of energy, other days he crawls under the blanket at 6 p.m. exhausted to the point of collapsing. He never complains about sleep, sees almost acid-trippy dreams a few times a month, and not even once had to take a pill to fall asleep.

Sleeps like a dead man with limbs entwined around his loved one. His lips break into a sweet smile as Usami throws a leg over their body and presses himself closer. He looks so peaceful you’d never think this man can bite your hand and throw you out of the window uwu.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (79) || atz

You can’t breathe.

Every inhale and exhale feels like gargantuan effort, not the movements that should come to your body as naturally as well, breathing. Mind swimming, your stomach heaves with each movement as you struggle to focus your gaze, which insists on remaining decidedly hazy.

What happened?

Groaning, you rub a hand across your eyes, fighting back the nausea. There’s an ache in every part of your body, legs burning like they’re on fire. Your head throbs like it’s trying to split itself in half.

“So, you’re awakening.”

Startled, you sit up as fast as you can and your vision swims, black spots breaking out over your vision. Retching, you turn to the side, body shaking and the taste of bile in your throat. When you look back, your heart leaps into your mouth, lips parting in shock.

A pair of liquid green eyes stare back at you, mouth curled into a sad, pained smile.

“You!”

Scrambling backwards is your first instinct, mind blank and your back hits a wall roughly. You yelp in pain and the man’s eyes widen in worry and he reaches out to steady you but you flinch away. He’s an unknown figure that has taken many forms, a young man, an elder, a young boy - who knows what his intentions are? And yet something in you feels at ease with him, the same feeling you get when you step aboard the Treasure and your body matches the rhythm of the ship’s pitch and roll like it’s your own heartbeat.

“Peace be upon you, I have not come to harm you.” The green eyed man says softly, and his voice sounds like the swaying of leaves in the spring wind. Staring up at him, you frown, and decide that he doesn’t look like he’s about to run you through with a blade any second.

What happened before this?

When you try to recall, pain surges once again and you clutch your head, gritting teeth. The memories wash over you, being separated from your master, overhearing the pirates’ plot, being chased and then...

And then running into that man with startlingly similar eyes to your very own captain, dread seeping cold into your veins. He had been dressed much like the townspeople that frequented the town, in dusty cloths and salt crusted sea boots, but that hadn’t been effective in the least in dampening to power you had felt hidden deep within him, like a roiling, pitching storm.

Instantly, you glance about in wariness, anxiety spiking through you. “That man! The one who I met earlier, I-”

When your eyes catch the sight about you, your heart falls into the pit of your stomach.

The harbor has broken down into chaos. What had once been the pier where the marketplace once stood is now a wreckage of wet timber and matchwood and shredded canvas, and shopkeepers shout in panicked voices to each other, picking their way through the rubble The wooden docks have been smashed into matchwood as well, only the bare structures left standing and wood scraps floating about in the grey water.

But the strange man is gone.

Your mouth falls open. “What on earth?”

People call to each other for help, some cursing and some crying, their voices strangely disembodied. The green eyed man lifts his shoulders gently, looking at them. “They won’t be able to see us,” is all he says in a form of explanation, vague and soft. You open your mouth then shut it, head pounding too much to try and understand what exactly is going on.

“What happened?”

“A tidal wave crashed into the shoreline a few minutes ago.” The man says, crouching next to you. His eyes are filled with melancholy, so acute that you feel it in your own chest. “Miraculously, the Treasure was not destroyed.”

“Freak storm.” You mumble under your breath. You want to ask how he can say that with so much surety, but you give up on trying to figure this man out. Something tells you that you won’t be able to. Instead, you curl up, staring at him with a hint of suspicion. “We’ve met so many times, I can’t even fool myself into thinking that this is a coincidence anymore. Who are you?”

“What am I.” He corrects you, with that same mild, unchanging smile. You blink at him, once, twice and then speak again. “Okay then. What are you?”

He smiles again. “I cannot say.”

He’s about as unhelpful as San when it comes to steering the ship, so you give up prying for answers and move onto your next question. “Why are you here?”

At that, his expression falls, green eyes nearly dimming from the spark that vanishes from his eyes. “Any other time, it would have filled my heart with joy to see you, however, the circumstances under which we meet are unfortunate. I have come bearing a warning.”

Your eyebrows pinch, fist clenching. A chill runs through you. “A warning?” You wonder aloud. “Sounds... bad.”

The green eyed man nods sagely. “You are beginning to experience agony with each step you take, are you not?”

You stare at him for a moment, before you put your head in your hands and rub your temples, as if that will rid your head of the dull ache there. Today has been a crazy enough day already, and if something else decides to happen you might walk right off the cliff of insanity and never come back. “I’m... not even going to ask how you know that. Yes, what about it?”

His green eyes don’t waver as they meet yours, and you can’t pull your own gaze away. “You should have guessed by now that your body is starting to fall apart. It will not be long before you lose all control of your legs as well.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” You mumble, running a hand through your hair. For a moment, you wonder if Yeosang would be able to create prosthetic legs for you as well. You’d be more wooden than clay at this rate. “You can’t use your voodoo powers and save me, can you.”

His smile is sad. “I cannot interfere any more than this. It is your journey that you have undertaken, and must continue to do so alone.”

“I’m not alone.” You say sharply, voice firm. For a second, you’re surprised at the unwavering tone of your own words. “I have a crew... a family.”

The man’s eyes widen a fraction, before they curve into gentle half moons, looking as content as you have ever seen them. Warmth settles in your chest. “That is something I am happy to hear. However...”

“However...?”

“You are the one who poses the biggest danger to them right now.”

You taste iron in your mouth. “The Royal Navy... other pirates won’t let us off with such a sweet bounty on my head.” The man does not reply. “Although I wonder what will kill me first, the Royal Navy or my sickness. I suppose you don’t know any way I can save myself?”

He looks at you dead in the eye. “There is a way.”

You nearly choke on air.

“What?” You sputter in shock, whirling to stare at him. “There’s a way I can stay alive? Tell me!”

His expression turns stony. “I cannot.”

Rage flares up in you. Part of you wants to throttle the man in front of you right now. “What do you mean? Perhaps you really do want me die?”

Hurt flashes in his green eyes and instantly your heart sinks. All your anger evaporates in a split second and you reach forward to take his hands in yours, suddenly desperate to retract what you’ve said. “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just... I know you’d never wish any harm upon me, Eorth-”

The second the word leaves your lips, you know you’ve screwed up.

“Ahh!” Your tongue burns, pain so fierce raging in your head that you almost crumple to your knees. You weren’t supposed to say it, you can’t say it. “It hurts!”

The man’s face crumples, and he quickly pulls away from you, rising to his feet. He looks like he wants nothing more than to hold you close, but does not do so. “Your time is nearing its end.” He says quietly, eyes wet with tears. “The hunter is almost upon you. You must succeed before he steals your essence as well, Chin Hae. It’s your only hope.”

“Wait!” You gasp, struggling to sit up. He pauses, and looks at you with an expression so forlorn you almost cry yourself. “You don’t want to tell me, or you can’t tell me?”

The man takes a step back, and suddenly he starts to crumble himself, right before your very eyes. Your mouth falls open in shock at the unbelievable sight. “I cannot. If I did, it would no longer be the way. But now... it is time for you to run before the predator, Chin Hae.”

“Huh?” That’s all you manage to utter, as the man vanishes into thin air, dust blown away by the wind. Distantly, you hear bells ringing frantically, but you feel as if you’re underwater. “Time to run...?”

“Be careful of him... and most of all, beware yourself, Chin Hae.”

The spell shatters, and the sound of the town bells - alarms, you realise - wreck your ears with their desperate ringing. And then you hear the screaming.

“Royal Navy! Royal Navy fast approaching!”

>>>

This day really is shaping up to being one of the craziest days of your very short life.

You tear along the wreckage that is the pier, jumping over piles of timber. The freak storm earlier had caused all of this... and you remember your reflection in the mirror when all of it had started. You wonder if the crazy storm had caused you to have weird visions, or maybe you’d just been struck by lightning and your brain had fried. All you know now is that you need to get back to the Treasure, and you need to get the hell out of here.

As you race down what’s left of the wooden piers, you see other crews scrambling to make their ships seaworthy again, howling to their men to raise the sails and make headway. The appearance of the Royal Navy bodes well for none of them, least of all yours.

Before you reach the dock housing the Treasure, however, white hot pain shoots up your legs and you stumble, nearly crumpling to your knees. You can feel cold sweat dripping from your head, although whether it is from fear or agony, you don’t know.

All of a sudden, a warm arm reaches around you and yanks you to your feet, and you cry out at the agony that tears through them. “Hells, are you okay, Chin Hae?”

You come dangerously close to Wooyoung’s face, gentle eyes brimming with  frantic concern. “Woo?”

“San came back a while back in a panic, saying he lost you and couldn’t find you. He thought you’d be back here with us, but you still hadn’t returned. And then the wave hit, and the Royal Navy... I thought-” He cuts himself off, burying his face in your neck for a second, and you can feel him trembling. “No, it’s alright. You’re safe. What happened?”

“I... I might have sprained my ankle, or something.” You lie through your teeth, guilt seizing your chest. Wooyoung looks horrified, and scoops you up easily, warm arms holding you close to his chest. His heart thuds frantically under warm skin as he turns to run towards the docks, battered planks creaking dangerously under his feet. “Thank the gods I found you. The Treasure is making preparations to set sail.”

You chew your lower lip as you tighten your hold around his neck. “What if... what if you couldn’t find me?”

Wooyoung gives you a flat look. “Captain would have refused to set sail and taken on the entire fleet on his own. And if he didn’t,” he looks straight at you, mouth pressed into a determined line. “Then I would not have left Tortuga at all. I wouldn’t leave without you, so don’t go thinking about silly questions like that, okay? Okay.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to disagree, you think, and despite the situation you’re in, you let out a tiny laugh. Wooyoung smiles.

“Stop right there!”

Wooyoung grinds to a halt, and you look up in horror to see a man standing at the very end of the pier, between you and where the Treasure is docked. It’s the burly man from earlier, you realise, and there’s a sword in his hands.

You swallow. “Uh oh.”

“Now, boy.” The pirate holds out the massive cutlass, and the blade gleams cruelly in the storm dappled light. “Drop the woman. I don’t want to kill her on accident, when she’s worth so much.”

“I’m afraid she’s worth more than you can afford.” Wooyoung says dryly, although his hold tightens on you, unwilling to let go. “More than money can buy. So I won’t be handing her over to a thug like you. Anyways, shouldn’t you be focusing on running? The Royal Navy is coming, you know.”

Wooyoung isn’t carrying his sword, you realise in horror, and you’ve lost your satchel during the storm earlier. Frantically, you work the straps holding your prosthetic to your arm. It comes loose, buckles clinking.

“Don’t be so stupid, kid.” The pirate levels his sword at the two of you. Wooyoung grits his teeth. “Don’t you know the Royal Navy is offering pardons for anyone who turns her in alive? I’ll never have to live in fear of those bastards again. Hand her over to me peacefully, and you’ll be pardoned too.”

“Wooyoung, walk towards the man, and kick him as hard as you can when I give you the signal.” You murmur under your breath. Wooyoung squeezes your thigh lightly, signifying that he understands. Then he walks forward calmly. He’s putting his trust in you, and you refuse to let him down. “I can be pardoned as well?”

“Of course! There’s an unbelievable amount of wealth too.” He chuckles as Wooyoung draws within striking range, eyes hard. The second he does, the man’s gaze snaps, and in the blink of an eye he’s raised his sword, a triumphant cackle leaving his lips. “But I’ll be taking it all, fool!”

At that second, you hurl your prosthetic right at the man’s head. He shouts as it collides with the man’s face. “Wooyoung, now!”

“I know!” Gripping you tight, Wooyoung is already lifting his leg and kicks the man so hard in the chest that the two of you fall backwards hard, you cradled in his arms. The man, on the other hand, isn’t as lucky and doesn’t have anything to catch him. Instead, he stumbles backwards, realises there’s nothing to step on and falls into the water below with a satisfying splash.

“You’re amazing, Chin Hae.” Wooyoung laughs brightly as he lifts you up again, running down to the docks. The Treasure is within sight, the orange and black flag fluttering at the mast a friendly sight. You only groan, and bury your face in his neck.

“Yeosang is going to kill me.”

“He loves you too much.” Wooyoung replies cheekily, and before you know it, the two of you have cleared the gangplank, feet thudding onto the deck. Your heartbeat seems to sync instantly with the rhythmic pitch and roll of the ship. “Captain, I got her! Let’s go!”

The main deck is in chaos, powder monkeys and gunners rushing about hauling bags of gunpowder, cannon shot, swabbing out the artillery guns and preparing them for a sea battle. You swallow down the panic, look upwards.

“Drop the sails!” Mingi bellows, and in the masts above you see Yunho silhouetted against the sun shouting commands at the rest of the rigging monkeys as they scramble to cut the ropes. At the helm, you see your captain standing with his back straight, red fur coat around his shoulders, cutting a striking figure in the grey light of the storm.

“Crew,” he commands sharply, “Set sail!”

The winds howl, as if in response to his command, and the Treasure surges forward. It’s only then that you notice the number of ships on the wide ocean before you, and your mouth drops open in horror.

It’s an entire fleet.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Kabby and 17 ;) xx

This has been in my drafts for like six years but felt like the time to get it done. Obvs modern AU, PG-ish, also on ao3.

meeting at a party whilst drunk au

So the good thing about sorta crashing a friend’s company’sopen-house thing is there’s an open bar.

Abby is in the weird space of not sure if the open-endedinvite actually applied to her, but there are way more people here than sheexpected and she’s not as much of a social creature as she thinks she is. Buton the other hand, there is food. Good food, she will point out, becauseCallie was at least semi involved in planning this thing and that woman knowswhere to spend money, and all buffet-style and spread out in different placesso passers-by (read: Abby) can help themselves without guilt.

And there is an open bar. And Abby is fifteen years too oldto take advantage of it. But she does not want to be here, she’s bored,and she hasn’t managed to find the person she came here to support. And it ismuch easier to have all of those problems if the adorable little bartender isjust happy her drink preferences are simple.

Abby is on her third Black Russian, heavy on the coffeeelement, when she sees a nice little distraction coming towards her. For once, ofthe pretty human variety and not another plate of fancy finger food, althoughif she could get her hands on an entire platter of those pastries that werelike crab Rangoon but not, that would be the best thing ever and-

Distracted, and not exactly in control of her behavior, shetakes half a step forward and the other half of her drink ends up on the prettyperson’s shirt. Well, now she gets to talk to him! Yay!

“Excuse me,” pretty man hisses. His voice is distinctive,and she has a brief memory of him yelling at her someplace else but… now is notthe time to play how likely is it that she tried to fight this guy at somebody’swedding, or ran over his foot with a shopping cart at the supermarket, orpointed out he was an asshole at some town council meeting, or…

Actually it was that last issue, Abby figures out. She can’tremember his name for the life of her right now, but asshole here – that willhave to do, despite the fact that she now wants to screw him in a supply closetwithin the next twenty minutes – had some really questionable opinions aboutnoise ordinances last year and she is still pissed. Ah well. He is scruffierthan she remembered, and way too overdressed for this thing, and she can getover how much of a jerk he is. Maybe.

“You’re in my way,” she counters, even though he isn’t, butit’s a good excuse to put her free hand on her hip and hope that somehowemphasizes her cleavage.

“And you just did… this.” Asshole motions to the front ofhis shirt – Abby is not sure what color that is, it’s gray but it isn’t,sorta a sage green in there too, weird color but somehow it works on this guy –which is now not its original color.

“At least liquor comes out. Could’ve been red wine.” And don’ttempt me, she wants to add. Never mind that she hates red wine – it would be aworthy sacrifice to permanently wreck what looks like an absurdly expensivedress shirt. Now, how to wreck a black suit while she’s at it…

“Are you alright?”

She scans the room. Still no sign of Callie, because ofcourse it’s impossible to find a pocket-sized woman who doesn’t ever wear somuch as a pair of statement earrings in a room this size and this crowded. And nosign of anyone else she can recognize either. Time to have a little fun.

“Does any of this-“ she motions down her body, she wants himto look, this dress fits a little too well and she wants someone to get her outof it- “look like I’m alright?”

“You’re barely upright in heels…”

“You ever tried to walk in heels? Sobriety does not make iteasier.”

“If you’re that determined to self-destruct, I’m sure thereare better venues.”

Oh, so now asshole thinks she’s too trashy for this event. Ifshe knew the potential audience would be on her side, this would be the bit whereshe’d start yelling, but she does not trust herself not to jump all the way fromproper indoor voice to stadium volume right now so…

“And I am sure,” she hisses, “that there are also betterplaces for you to be a jerk. And people here who actually deserve it!”

He rolls his eyes and sighs, honest to god sighs like a manher age and built like he played a sport in college – probably some pretentioussport like rowing, maaaaaybe baseball, honestly she doesn’t have the patiencefor sports so she’s not trying to guess – should not be able to do while alsobecoming more hot at the same time. This is unfair.

“Do you have a ride home?”

Abby hisses. Yes, she has been drinking. But she’s not ahazard to herself yet. Just to other people, apparently.

“I have a friend who is running this thing and who I can’tfucking find because she doesn’t answer her fucking phone even when she is nottrying to coordinate this many things that could go wrong.”

He takes a step back, expression now changing to shock. “Youknow Callie?”

“Yeah. Best friends since sixth grade. I punched somebody todefend her honor and thirty years later…”

And then it clicks, another place she’s seen this guy before– well, seen is a little bit of a stretch, not in person but in a bad-qualitypicture on someone’s phone. This belligerent asshole, if she remembers right,was one of Callie’s more recent flings. And if Abby remembers right, this onedidn’t end well. She can’t remember ever hearing a name there, but-

“You have a lot of nerve,” she mutters.

“Excuse me?” That man does not know how to make those twowords sound like a question.

“You screwed her over.”

“I did what?!”

“I think the exact wording was your breakup involved enoughice to sink the titanic?”

“Not a breakup if it was never a thing.”

“So casual sex doesn’t count as a thing?”

“Not if it’s emotionless.”

“Yeah, she mentioned you didn’t have those.”

“Excuse me?”

“You keep using those words and I do not think you know whatthey mean,” which is totally a line from some movie but Abby can’t be botheredto remember. “The only reason I haven’t tried to hit you is because you did nothave that beard when you ghosted her and I do not think a bruise would showwell enough and-“

“And I’m not sure you could reach,” he mutters. Why are menlike this.

“Do not tempt me.”

“Is there anyone else you know here?”

“Not that I’ve seen yet. And I am perfectly capable of-“

“And I do not care.”

Fine.

So much for her ideas.

As much of a gorgeous bad idea as this one is… he’s notworth it.

(Later, when she gets home – safely, she will point out, shedoes not try to drive in this state – she goes through Callie’s social media profiles,finds the guy through a comment, and spends the remains of her Saturday nightinvestigating the entire online presence of one Marcus Kane, lawyer and aspiringlocal politician and all-around cactus.)

(Later – six weeks later – she tries to attack him during anothertown council meeting, this time with better information, and a new andexhausting phase of both of their lives begins.)

[outofangband]

Maedhros in Angband which makes me realize I have not written much of the aftermath lately and I need to do that soon because I like writing that and I know a lot of you like reading those things Features Thuringwethil being a creepy little bat child though not nearly as creepy in my story which is actually centered on her which I'm honestly very proud of as a horror fan.  more specific warning under the cut

this one is actually pretty long yay

warning for implied abuse of all kinds and force-feeding not graphically described and without an emphasis on actual food because I know that does make a difference for some people it's more like magical substance force-feeding but it's still you know not pleasant. 1 vague reference to sexual assault which I'm probably making worse by even pointing out but again I still want to warn just in case

He had not meant to. Truly, he had not. He had hardly any idea why he had reacted in such a way as for so many months, he had been able to keep such impulses to himself. But it seemed that even in this weakened, ill, sleep deprived state, Maedhros still had limits and these limits had been crossed long, long ago. So, here he was, hanging by his wrists, feet barely touching the ground in what seemed to be a supply closet of some sort. He was not sure. The situation had gotten out of control very quickly; Mairon was gone, Maedhros did not particularly care where or why, but some lesser being, maybe another Maia, he was not sure had reached out to touch his hair as he was being dragged from one cell to another, (for reasons he was not sure of, he presumed it was Mairon’s orders) and he had snapped, whipping around and throwing her hand away. He had already endured days of her chattering about how pretty he was, how much she wanted to play with him if only the Masters Of The Fortress would let her. It was merely unsettling at first, for her words seemed to be those of a child speaking about a doll, or maybe a horse, rather than the true cruelty he usually encountered. He did not know whether to feel pity, annoyance, or confusion and this made him hesitate to strike back, even after he was presented with the opportunity to with Mairon gone.

But, his patience wore thin and inevitably it tore apart. He had pushed her hand away and she had screamed, truly like a child threatened with harm and Maedhros froze, for a moment overcome with guilt and concern. This gave the nearby guards enough of an advantage to drag the weakened elf away. Even after Maedhros came to his senses and begun to fight again, he was already overpowered by three or four others. He was brought here, to this tiny space and chains were attached to his wrists. He had no idea how long he waited until another guard came in to inform him that, by Mairon’s orders, he was to remain there for four days until the Maia himself came back to deal with him. Truly, this was more irritating than anything else and Maedhros had expressed this irritation even more foolishly, by spitting at him. The guard left after backhanding him across the face, hard enough for the coppery, sickening taste of blood to permeate his senses. Several hours later, he returned to tell the elf that Mairon had added the added punishment of no food or water until his arrival for the previous act of insolence. Maedhros bit his tongue to avoid worsening the situation further with yet another display of his frustration and merely glared as the guard left after hitting him again for no real reason.

Maedhros spent the next few days in relative silence. For many hours at a time, (he assumed these were some kind of working hours) there would be much commotion and noise outside the locked door. When there was none, however, he risked speaking and singing to himself quietly. He knew he was lucky, that these isolated hours, as boring and uncomfortable as they were, would be a mercy compared to what would come when Mairon or worse, Melkor required his presence again.

Perhaps it had been four days, perhaps more or less. Mairon seemed to be in a cheerful mood, which could not mean anything good.

“So, I leave you alone for two days and already such trouble you have caused!” the Maia remarked, amusement in his song like voice. Maedhros clenched his jaw and counseled himself to be silent. Antagonizing Mairon would not help at all, would only make things worse.

“You must be starving,” the other smirked, as though there was ever a moment in Angband when Maedhros wasn’t starving. He was rarely given food, barely of a substance to sustain even one of the Eldar.

“How long am I to go without this time? Four more days? One week? It hardly matters,” Maedhros snarled, ignoring his previous warnings to himself. Mairon’s smile widened.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he crooned in that saccharine tone Maedhros so hated, “That is not at all what I meant, darling, for I come bearing relief.”

That couldn’t be good. Mairon approached the elf until their faces were mere inches apart. Never taking his eyes off the other, the Maia reached up with one hand to loosen the chains on Maedhros’s wrists so his feet were more steadied on the ground. With the other hand, Mairon reached into his robes and produced a small bag, fiddling with the string ties until they were opened. Taking advantage of Maedhros’s nervous gaze on the container, Mairon gripped his chin, pressing fingers painfully into his lower jaw.

“Open up now,” he said softly. The elf shook his head. This command almost always prefaced something horrifying and even though though they were in a different position than usual, Maedhros had no reason to believe this encounter would end any better.

“I said, open your mouth,” Mairon whispered dangerously, “For this will be the only chance you get to eat for quite some time.” I care not! Maedhros wanted to snarl, but instead he grit his teeth, resolved to doing everything he could to prevent whatever foul substance the Maia held from entering his mouth.

Mairon sighed and moved closer to him, gripping the back of his head with his spare hand. Maedhros’s eyes watered in pain as Mairon tugged spare locks with brutal force. He managed to remain silent until finally the other pulled his head back and let go, knocking the elf against the wall behind him. Unable to soften the blow with his hands bound as they were, Maedhros yelped in pain as a wave of dizziness rolled over him and sparks lit in front of his eyes.

Seizing this opportunity, Mairon shoved a small greenish object into the other’s mouth, immediately pressing his hand over it and returning his grip to Maedhros’s hair to hold him steady as he was forced to swallow. The elf was unsure what he had just been given for it tasted vaguely like sage but had the consistency of…caramel? Or something else chewy and sticky. He could only assume it was some potent herb that Mairon had cultured himself and dreaded to think of what effect it would have on him. He did not have to wait long, for the Maia seemed quite willing to explain.

“Do not fret, dear. This is not your dinner. In a little while, you will fall asleep and when you awaken, we will get you some proper food. How does that sound to you?”

How did that sound? Confusing, was the honest answer. Why on Arda did Mairon wish to drug him now? So rarely was the elf given any substance that took away his consciousness, and almost exclusively when he became so unruly that Mairon wished to subdue him strongly enough so that he could be left alone somewhere when the Maia was called off to a different task. Would he be taken somewhere else again? Mairon rarely seemed to have the need to subdue him during transport; chains and other guards were usually enough. The elf tried to glare as the telltale signs of induced drowsiness washed over him and he blinked repeatedly. Mairon reached out to stroke his face. Maedhros managed to turn away before his head fell against his chest, the weight of keeping it up making him blindingly dizzy.  The Maia reached up to undo some the bindings on his wrists, allowing the other to weakly fall forward. His bruised cheek brushed up against Mairon’s tunic and then it was dark.

When Maedhros woke up to dazzlingly white lights and a general feeling of cold, he knew immediately where he was and groaned aloud in despair. As he came more and more into his senses, his suspicions were confirmed; he was indeed strapped to the cold metal table in Mairon’s quasi infirmary room. The Maia stood over him, pouring one vial of a dark liquid into another beaker of a clear, almost  sparkling substance.

“Ah, Maitimo. Welcome back,” he said cordially, not looking away from his task.

“Why am I here?” Maedhros muttered sleepily as memories of the last hour or so before he fell asleep swam behind his eyes. Unsurprisingly, Mairon laughed.

“Do you not remember? I said I would feed you once you woke up. I did not want to waste time dragging you here, not when you have been so starved for vital nutrients!” He brushed Maedhros’s hair off his face, noting the elf’s eyes still on the beaker set to the side. Maedhros was still confused. The Maia had never before gone to such efforts to give him food. In fact, Mairon was never the one who did; usually some guard tossed him a piece of bread, or shoved a small tin of water through the door of his cell. The other seemed to notice his confusion.

“This is a special occasion, Maitimo,” said Mairon cheerfully, “For not only will you be taken care of but I will have the opportunity to test out a new substance of mine. It has taken some time to convince my master to allow me this opportunity, he is so Keen to have you returned to him. It should very much come in handy should you continue to insist on being stubborn! One dose of this and you will not require more than water for several weeks! Easier on everyone, do you not think?” Maedhros suppressed another groan. He hated having to test out the various concoctions and medicines that Mairon put together, hated being the subject for the other’s invasive, unpleasant, and often quite dangerous research. Mairon smiled again at the other’s dismay.

“ Let us not waste more time!” he said brightly, returning his hand to the elf’s hair, pulling it off his face and holding his head still. Maedhros was still too nauseous to struggle against this grip, much to his horror as Mairon took another metal device from the tray beside him and held it against his lips. Maedhros had already experienced it before and his heart rate sped up. Carefully and easily, Mairon forced the two thin, metal bars into the other’s mouth until his jaw was forced uncomfortably open. The device was attached to straps on either side of his head and tightened yet again.

Mairon stood back to admire his work, smirking at the outrage and indigence in Maedhros’s eyes. As he strode over to the other table to retrieve the beaker, a few drops of saliva fell onto the table beside the elf, only adding to his humiliation. Mairon also pulled up a chair beside his bound captive so he could better access what he needed.

“Remember, if you had not been so unruly, this need not have happened,” said Mairon sweetly as he dipped a spoon into the beaker and placed it on Maedhros’s tongue. He groaned incoherently, the concoction tasting nearly unbearably bitter and burning as it ran down his throat. Unable to shake his head or move away due to the tight straps, Maedhros screamed in protest as Mairon brought the utensil back into the container.

“Hush now,” the Maia said absently as he gave the elf a second spoonful of the horrid mixture, “If you are good, I will give you something nicer afterwards.”

For the next ten minutes, Maedhros continued to endure the humiliation of being spoonfed by his enemy. Yes similar things that happened which he did not wish to dwell on especially not now but this was even more blatant. He did not know how many helpings he was forced to swallow. It was at least nine when  he finally succumbed to the bitterness, spitting up a few ounces of the vile liquid. His face burned with shame as Mairon so sweetly wiped his cheeks and chin with a cloth, adjusting the gag so he could swallow more easily.

Finally,  when it was done, Mairon returned the beaker to the smaller tray and removed the metal device from the elf’s mouth.

“What was that?” Maedhros gasped out once he had relaxed his aching jaw enough to speak clearly.

“Were you not listening before, darling?” Mairon asked, returning to his chair beside the other, “It’s a special concoction I created that will give you the nutrients you need without having to argue every day when you refuse to eat. You should be grateful.” With his remaining strength, Maedhros glared at the other for speaking of him like he was an unruly child who refused to sit still for dinner.

“Would you like to wash that taste out of your mouth? Do not look at me like that, Maitimo, I know you would,” Mairon purred, seizing the elf’s chin, yet again, “Now open your mouth,  elf.” Tears of shame and self hatred burned in Maedhros’s eyes as he opened his mouth long enough for the Maia to pour a few drops of a sweet, fruit like substance in. It certainly did remove the disgusting taste of the other potion but the look of delight and triumph on Mairon’s own face burned in his mind. What he would give to avoid his enemy having reason for such glee!

Maedhros rested his head down dejectedly as Mairon stood up, apparently to leave. As nice as it would be to have some peace from the depraved being, Maedhros still did not really appreciate being left strapped naked to the freezing metal table. At least, if the Maia was correct, this particular punishment would not be one he would be forced to endure again for quite some time

[bltngames]

SAGE 2020: Indie Games

SAGE may closed more than a day ago, but thankfully, the website remains up for those who still want to download its games. So even though this article is technically very late, nothing listed here is out of date. The event may be over, but the games live on! Which is honestly a relief, because I think doing ten games per article is taking its toll on me. Normally, when I’d write for TSSZ, I’d do somewhere in the realm of 5-7 games per article, and even that would eventually burn me out. After writing about 20 games this year, I was clearly starting to feel like I was running out of steam. Oh well. We live and learn. Here’s another ten games!

There’s one more article left after this, a sort of “honorable mentions” round-up that will feature much shorter blurbs as I blow through way more games way faster. If I didn’t talk about your game here in these three articles, now’s your chance to let me know so I can say something about it in the final article.

Anyway, onwards to our ten indie games.

Victory Heat Rally

I’m all for any game channeling the spirit of Sega’s old SuperScaler arcade technology, and Victory Heat Rally is all about that. Everything about this game seems so MY AESTHETIC that my only complaint is that I’m hungry for more. A lot more. This demo is a simple time trial on one race track and I’m itching to sink my teeth into literally anything else this game has to offer. There is an older demo from back in April with more content, but it’s running on a different version of the code base -- this newest demo is significantly improved both in terms of visuals and control. I really don’t have anything else to say about it. There’s not much here, but what’s here is charmingly retro in the style of Sega’s Power Drift, but cuter and even more colorful.

  Sondro Gomez: A Sunova Story

I had been interested to revisit Sondro Gomez after playing the first demo last year, but I don’t know if I just wasn’t in the right mood for it this year or what, but I kind of bounced off the game this time. To my memory, Sondro Gomez is a kinda-sorta side game in the Kyle & Lucy universe. You may remember Kyle & Lucy as one of a growing number of games coming out of the Sonic fan gaming community trying to break out as an original title. A while ago, the developers announced a partnership with Stealth to use the Headcannon engine to make the game with, something that extended to Sondro Gomez here. The problem is, it feels kind of weird now, and I can’t quite put my finger on why. I think it’s the little stuff -- you don’t get a lot of positive feedback when attacking using your whip (the sound is a bit quiet), and the difficulty balancing errs on the side of caution. I died a couple times in my time playing this newest demo, but I wouldn’t characterize Sondro Gomez as a game that feels challenging. Some of that probably has to do with the fact this is still just a demo, which means you spend a long time fighting the same four enemy types in every single level. There’s a lot of charm to the story and the characters it involves, but that only takes you so far when it feels like you’re doing the same things over and over in the actual levels, you know? Either way, the touched up visuals and the new boss fights are welcome. Interested in seeing what the full release looks like next year.

  Delta Gal

In retrospect, a Mega Man Legends fan game seems like a no-brainer, doesn’t it? Where Delta Gal has a leg up is in controls. Even considering the era Mega Man Legends was released in, it had very awkward controls. Delta Gal’s response is to embrace standard third person action game controls with a mouse and a keyboard. Now, there is controller support, but even once you get it set up, you have button layout presets like “Bad” and “Almost Good.” Honestly, if you can, just play it with a keyboard and mouse. The demo offers about 30-40 minutes of gameplay, with a bit of the town, a forest section, a cave, and one whole dungeon. Visuals nail the best parts of the Mega Man Legends low-fi aesthetic, colors are vibrant, and the pixel art textures look very good. The town is full of characters with lots of personality, too. A particular favorite being the guy who runs the junkyard who likes to show off by flexing his muscles but then ultimately chickens out when it comes to exploring the cave he discovers. The only downside I’d say is the sound design. The game sounds okay, but some of the music is a little bland, and certain sound effects lack the right kind of punch. Granted, this style of sound design isn’t easy, so I can empathize with the developers in that respect. Honestly, it doesn’t really detract from anything at all, so maybe it’s not even worth bringing up. Either way, good stuff, and I’m looking forward to the full release.

  Bun n’ Gun

Here’s a cute little game about a bunny in the old west. I’m absolutely in love with the visuals and the music here, but the gameplay is… interesting. Bun isn’t a typical shooter or platformer, thanks to the fact that he appears to only have one arm, which is occupied by his gun. Now you wouldn’t think this would matter, as it’s pretty easy to design a game around only having to jump and shoot, and that’s fair enough. But there’s a strange heft to this character. It takes them a little bit to pick up speed, and it takes them a bit to slow down, and there’s an unmistakable, split-second delay between pushing the jump button and actually jumping. I know enough about this kind of game development that a delay between pushing a button and actually jumping has to be a deliberate design decision, and I split on whether or not I like it. I don’t think I hate it, because it’s pretty easy to get used to the way it feels, but it does mean you’re working with a handicap when it comes to split-second movements. Given the bunny seems to only have one arm, though, perhaps that’s the point. Either way, it’s cute. Give it a look.

  Shield Cat

I feel like I’ve been over-using the word “charming” to describe games at SAGE this year, but you know what? Shield Cat is charming as heck. People also tend to think it’s reductive to describe things by comparing them to something that already exists, but I say nuts to that, too. Saying “It’s like…” is an easy shorthand, and besides, if somebody is saying your project is like one of their favorite games, it just means they’re giving you praise and might lack the words to accurately describe that praise. Thing is, that’s actually kind of hard to do with Shield Cat. The nearest relative to this game would be The Legend of Zelda, but Shield Cat honestly plays very little like Zelda, beyond having a top-down perspective. Secret of Mana, maybe, with the stamina meters? I don’t know. Regardless, this is a charming (!!!) top down action game where you roam around exploring an overworld and solve light puzzles. It controls well and the aesthetics are nice. Can’t really get much better than that, though I do have to wonder what it is you’re supposed to be doing in this game. It took me about 30 minutes to see everything available in this demo, but there’s no story setup and only the smallest pieces of what could be considered a dungeon. What’s on offer here is interesting enough that I find myself wanting to know more about this world. For example, it’s called Shield Cat, but clearly you’re some kind of ferret. What’s that about? Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

  Prototype N

I’ve sat here staring into the void wondering what to write about for this game for a long time, because it’s one of those demos that’s just… a solid and fun game that nails exactly what it’s going for. I would say that Prototype N leans a little too far towards the easy side of things, but the third level provided in the demo ramps the challenge up enough to be just about perfect. And, really, that’s it. That’s the game. You get two softer introductory levels to get you acclimated to the controls (which are similar to Mega Man, but different enough not to be a direct clone) and one “real” level to actually give you a bit of a work out. There’s nothing else to really say. This has the vibe of a 1993 or 1994 Capcom game, or maybe something from Data East. Every single part of this game’s presentation is laser-focused on that aesthetic, and it pulls it off flawlessly. Sound design, music, visuals, it’s a bullseye. This game fell out of a time machine in the best way possible. Definitely give it a look.

  Yan’s World

From a game that nails the SNES aesthetic to this, a game which pays tribute to the Virtual Boy… but not really? I actually became aware of Yan’s World many years ago through a mutual Discord, and it always looked interesting, but simultaneously a little confusing, something that still mostly holds true to this day. Per the game’s own Kickstarter sales pitch, Yan’s World is “stylized as a lost title for Nintendo's Virtual Boy.” I can get down with that, but the game almost instantly breaks its own rule because Yan’s primary method of attack is to shoot a missile from his head that can only be aimed using the mouse. As such, Yan’s World doesn’t have controller support, even though one of the stretch goals currently listed on their Kickstarter page is to make a version that can be played on real Virtual Boy hardware. And, honestly, what’s the deal with this game’s whole… everything else? Why is this kid an onion? Why are the platforms made out of clocks? Why does all of Yan’s dialog make him seem like he’s sort of pissed off when he’s got such a big happy smile? There’s a bit of a hand-wave to suggest the entire game takes place inside of a dream, and for once that actually means throwing logic out the window, I guess. Oh, the missile is a pillow? Fine, whatever. Use it to blast this demonic apple, and then threaten to kill an innocent NPC. It’s a dream! Despite how little sense that makes, it… kind of works? The sprites are big and lovely, the game controls well, and the level design is plenty creative. I can’t fault the game for that, it’s just trying to figure out everything wrapped around the game that feels so bizarre.

  Cosmic Boll

I don’t know if I really understand what’s going on in Cosmic Boll, but I love to play it just the same. This plays like if Treasure made Dragon Ball Advance Adventure while strung out on cocaine. The end result is pure hyperactive chaos. There is a whole complicated combat system at play here, and a very lengthy in-depth tutorial when you first start the game, but you can figure out a lot of it by just skipping the tutorial and playing the game for real. You can get by pretty easily by just mashing buttons and seeing what happens, and that’s not a complaint, because a lot happens in this game. Like, constantly. It never stops, it never really slows down. You’re always zipping around, spinning and flipping and punching soldiers, explosions everywhere, collectibles everywhere, just utter madness. It’s Sonic the Hedgehog plus Devil May Cry plus Gunstar Heroes and all of it is mixed up in ways you probably don’t expect. All of this is to say that Cosmic Boll is messy and cool and fun and you should probably play it.

  Brock Crocodile

This is a game I’ve seen a lot of around social media, and it’s nice to finally be able to try it. Weirdly enough, this is the first game all SAGE that has flat out refused to see my controller. For the last few years at SAGE, I’ve been using a Playstation DualShock 4, which typically causes me all kinds of headaches with games expecting an Xbox controller. This year, I’ve been using an 8bitdo SN30+. These things are designed primarily to be used on the Switch, but using a controller macro, you can change it to Xbox or Playstation modes. The “Xbox” mode has served me well so far, but Brock here fails to let me use the controller at all. Fortunately, with only three buttons, Brock manages to be mostly playable on a keyboard. That being said, a lot of this game feels a little bit off. The camera is kind of swimmy, as it's almost constantly in motion trying to get a better angle on what's around you. Brock himself doesn't have a smooth acceleration curve either -- it's more like shifting gears in a car, where you reach one top speed and then click up into the next highest speed. That can work, but Brock changes gears much too quickly and without much feedback, making it look like one jerky acceleration curve instead of two. And then there’s the visuals. Level art looks great, character portraits look great, but I’ve never been the biggest fan of the sprites I’ve seen in this game. Take Brock himself, for example: he’s got insanely thick thighs for some reason but the rest of his body looks thin and wispy, and he stands with kind of weird posture. The good news is, despite these complaints, Brock Crocodile is actually really fun to play. You eventually get used to the game’s control quirks, and the level design and included boss fight are excellent, striking that perfect balance where they aren’t too easy but don’t feel unfairly difficult, either. Plus, even though the cutscenes aren’t skippable (annoying as I was dealing with controller issues), the writing is snappy and the dialog is funny. It may not be perfect, but there’s still a lot to like here.

  Marble Launcher

Here’s one of those games where you can tell the creator is just starting out making games. And that’s great! These sorts of endlessly complex, winding mazes are exactly the kind of levels I started making when I first got into game development when I was 16 or 17 years old. One could spend hours searching every nook and cranny in these levels, which is simultaneously awesome and exhausting. Thankfully, near as I can tell, nothing FORCES you to go exploring, so if you’d rather just finish the game, it’s easy enough to head straight for the goal. Gameplay is extremely simple, otherwise. You’re a marble, you can attack enemies by bouncing off of their heads, and you have a slam move. That’s it. You might think that with this being a marble game, you’d get real rolling ball physics, but all you get is simple platformer controls. They’re good enough, especially considering how esoteric the shape of the levels can get, but it’s hard not to be a little disappointed. Still, it’s not a bad little game for what it is. Controls a bit better than some of my earliest attempts at game development, too.

Thirty games total! That’s a lot of games to talk about. And there’s still more to come, so stay tuned for that.

[avengers-nextgen]

The Aftermath IX

“Drew’s memory was recovered,” Enzo noted, breaking the silence at last.

“Is she happy?” Max asked, arching a brow.

“Yes, I like to think so,” Enzo nodded. Silence settled once more between the old friends. “She’s trying to sort through everything. Come to terms with all that happened.”

“Would she remember me?”

“Yes,” Enzo assured, “she remembers everyone she’s met so far. She even hugged Harper. It was good...but strange.”

“And, Bianca?” Max asked hesitantly, “does she have any resentment?”

“No,” Enzo shook his head, “she’s happy for Drew. If anyone knows the pain of being brainwashed it’s Bianca. She wouldn’t want Drew to suffer just because she can’t have any memories. Bianca’s not like that. She’s got a good heart.”

“I’ve been told,” Max smiled thinly. “Well, I’m glad everything’s worked out for her. Drew, I mean. As for Bianca, I am sorry.”

“I know,” Enzo sighed, “you’ve said it twelve times.”

“No one believes me.”

“I do,” Enzo promised. “I know when you’re lying. You were always bad at it.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” Max smiled. “Miss Melroy was so gullible.”

“She was,” Enzo laughed, “you told her your cat ate your homework even though you wrote an essay on how your father was allergic to cats just the week before- so you couldn’t have one.”

“It was a good fabrication,” Max grinned, tilting their head slightly. Enzo noticed just how long his friend’s hair had gotten. It tumbled about in odd combinations of blonde waves and curls.

“That was when things were easier,” Enzo’s smile faded ever so slightly. “You know, Bianca loves hockey.”

“She does?”

“Yeah,” Enzo recalled her original introduction to the sport. The way she got excited after every check or amazing save. Back when Bianca and Max had been friends. “Maybe it’s a good place to start patching things up.”

“Enzo,” Max frowned, “She’s not going to want anything to do with me and I don’t blame her. I hurt her horribly. She can’t walk because of me.”

“That’s quitter’s talk,” Enzo waved Max’s words aside, “because the Bianca I know is very understanding and forgiving. She’d come around.”

“From what I’ve heard everyone just wants to hurt me,” Max countered.

“Who told you that?” Enzo arched a brow.

“Your sister,” Max mumbled. “Personally I’m inclined to believe her.”

“That’s just my sister,” Enzo frowned, grasping the bars to Max’s cell, “she likes to bully people. She doesn’t understand you. She’s a hypocrite if you ask me.”

“Enzo,” Max glowered. They’d only ever heard Enzo gush about his sister, and now he was talking as if he despised her.

“Max,” Enzo crouched low, drawing up eye level to wear Max sat upon the floor, “you don’t know her like I do. She’s no different from you. She was in a cell worse than this. Chained up because she was dangerous. She manipulated everyone here, stabbed Director Fury, and nearly killed a bunch of people on some vengeance mission she roped Bianca into. What’s worse, they offered her a place here and she just vanished. She always does when things get tough. She’s a coward. She turns her back on people without remorse.”

“She’s probably scared. I know I am. I’m scared of a lot. And you may not want to hear this,” Max spoke sternly, “but I don’t like the way you’re talking. You never would have said those things when-“

“Things are different now,” Enzo insisted, “and my point is...she can’t write you off as a lost cause when she was one too. It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Enzo,” Max frowned, “and maybe she’s trying to protect you.”

“From what? From you? What could you possibly do-“

“I can do many things,” Max warned, “and I have. I have hurt people because I can’t control my emotions very well. I’m passionate to a fault. When I get angry...I hurt people because I don’t know what else to do. I am dangerous and she sees that. Maybe better than you give her credit for.”

“So now you’re defending my sister?” Enzo stammered. “Why? She’s done nothing but humiliate you.”

“She’s been honest with me. She told me the reality of my situation and the consequences of my actions. I have to deal with that now!” Max snapped.

Enzo studied his friend closely. Saw the conflict in their eyes, saw the confusion, the loneliness, and the pain. “You’re just overwhelmed. That’s all. You’ll be fine. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

With that, Enzo left the cell block behind and ventured back to the main part of the tower. Everyone was still elated over Scout’s success with Drew. Smiles were flashed with little prompting, joy emanated from every person, and the atmosphere was one of wonder, excitement, and love.

“Where’d you run off to?” Arthur asked, slinging an arm about Enzo’s shoulders, “You’re missing some crazy stories from the Space family.”

“I was just taking care of business. That’s all,” Enzo shrugged. Arthur pursed his lips in thought as the youngest boy wandered off.

“He okay?” Penny asked, bounding over with Drew’s battle axe.

“Yeah,” Arthur nodded, “but where’d you get that?”

“I asked if I could look at it,” Penny grinned, heaving the weapon up to rest on her shoulder. “I like it.”

“I prefer your little blasters,” Arthur remarked making little ‘pew pew’ noises, “I’m less likely to be decapitated.”

“Please, end me with something as dramatic as decapitation,” Chloe replied dryly, albeit with a tiny smile.

“If only I could lift it,” Penny grunted, “to head level.”

“Okay kids, put the axe away before we all die,” Nathaniel frowned, quickly collecting the weapon from Penny who was teetering back on her heels in danger of falling over.

“Not joining them?” A familiar voice caught Enzo’s attention from where he lingered against the back wall watching his friends and Penny’s struggle to wield the axe. “What for?”

“Not in the mood,” Enzo replied, sparing his sister little more than a glance.

“Understandable,” Sage nodded, scooping Salem up from the floor. The stupid cat had horrible depth perception because of its single eye, and Enzo had been on the receiving end of a few missed jumps before. “You missed Dad. He left.”

“I know,” Enzo shrugged. “He was going to anyways.”

“I just figured you were closer to him...maybe you wanted a minute or two,” Sage frowned, studying her younger brother. She wasn’t used to this type of callousness from him. “Couldn’t find you though.”

“I was talking to Max.” Raising his head, Enzo finally looked properly at his sister. There was little reaction on her part but he could tell she was trying hard to remain unreadable. There was a tightness in her features, a quiet tension.

“Ah,” Sage nodded, as Salem clambered about her shoulders. “What’d they say?”

“Nothing important.”

“Alright.”

“Just that you decided to pay him a visit. That you were quite the bully.” Enzo’s tone was rather cold.

“I’m sorry they feel that way.” Though her tone was controlled, Enzo noticed a muscle twitch in her jaw and a slight narrowing of the eyes.

“You’re not. I know you’re not, and I know you don’t care.” Pressing his lips into a thin line, Enzo made a path through the crowd back towards his room. He knew Sage would follow, but he wanted her too. They’d be more likely to go at it away from public view.

In fact, Enzo couldn’t quite explain it, but he wanted to get a rise out of her. Behind him Sage left Salem to search for affection elsewhere as she continued to follow her brother.

“What’s gotten into you?” The question slipped free as soon as Sage stepped safely into Enzo’s room. “You’re distant, rude, and frankly being a jerk.”

“I’m trying to help a friend. Okay? Max isn’t a bad person. You just won’t try to look at them any differently,” Enzo frowned, sitting on his bed with care.

“Enzo, we’ve been over this. I have nothing to say to Max that I haven’t already said. I’m protecting my family-“

“From what? Someone locked up in a cell? Someone confused by their powers?” Enzo demanded, eyes smarting with a foreign fire. “What can Max do from their?”

“People can do a lot of things from a cell,” Sage warned.

“You would know, right? I almost forgot you were in the same position as Max.” Enzo laughed but it wasn’t the warm sound people had come to love.

“Our situations are very different.”

“How?”

“Max had a support system. Max had opportunities I never got. They chose their path. They had options,” But even as she spoke Sage could tell Enzo wasn’t convinced. “They had you. I had myself.”

“You had a support system but you abused it. You’ve done far worse than anything Max has. You manipulated Bianca, you manipulated Alex, you stabbed Fury, you took your anger out on Thalia for what Thor did, you turn your back on people the moment things get tough. You’ve hurt countless people and somehow you’ve gotten off scott free. So, you have no right to judge someone who’s made one mistake. Your ledger is far worse,” Enzo stood, nearly as tall as his sister now. He’d hit a growth spurt that had yet to subside and the height comparison was suddenly unnerving. He wasn’t a little kid anymore.

“I almost died for you. For everyone here when those damn soldiers got hold of vibranium. My ledger is clean,” Sage spoke softly never once breaking eye contact with her brother. “And I know you hate me for fighting Max but I wasn’t going to sit by while they killed my friend. You can’t ask that of me. Besides, you made our standings clear. You don’t love me and I see you weren’t lying. What I can’t understand is how you care so much about that kid.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re used to being the person with everyone fawning over them. You don’t see how painful it is when someone you care about is hurting. You don’t know how hard it is not to pity someone like you. In fact, maybe the only reason Alex likes you is because she feels bad for you.”

“That’s not true.”

“How would you know? Have you asked? Do you even bother to spend time with her? Or do you find excuses like you do with me? Because if someone played mind games with me the way you used to with her, I’d question what constitutes love in that relationship,” Enzo watched as Sage broke eye contact at last. He’d won. He’d made his stance very clear to her. He was going to do whatever it took to make sure Max got a fresh start whether she approved or not.

“You have no idea what love is,” Sage spoke barely loud enough for him to hear, “you’re just a little boy who thinks they understand things they don’t.”

“I do know what love is,” Enzo scoffed, “but you wouldn’t know that.”

“Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me. I know that’s what this is about,” For the first time in the argument Enzo lost his grasp on having the upper hand. “Tell me you love them and get it over with. Tell me so I know. So I can stay out of the picture.”

“I-“Enzo stammered searching for words he wasn’t sure he wanted to speak. He hadn’t expected this from her. Hadn’t thought she’d even guess...

“That’s all,” Sage nodded. “Okay. That’s...okay.”

He never finished the sentence before she left his room behind. Instead, Enzo was left to stand stalk still as if the rug had been pulled out from under him and somehow he hadn’t toppled over.

[dotsonabrahamsen63-blog]

Remembering Stan Lee: The Amazing Origin Story Of The Marvel Comics Scribe

Remembering Stan Lee: The Amazing Origin Story Of The Marvel Comics Scribe

Strangely enough, Lee said he would cast himself as the opposite of all that in his own imagination, drawing a comparison to the cynical, Stan Lee Thank You For The Memories Shirt uncompromising newspaper editor J. Jonah Jameson. “I’m very frustrated that by the time they made the movie I was too old to play the role,” Lee said. “I modeled him after me. He was dumb and loudmouthed and opinionated. Of all the characters he helped create, Peter Parker remained his favorite. “In a way Spider-Man is more special than the others,” he said. What made him Lee’s favorite? “Nothing ever goes right for Peter. I think for most people in the world, nothing ever goes right. He hates people he’s never seen — people he’s never known — with equal intensity — with equal venom. “Now, we’re not trying to say it’s unreasonable for one human being to bug another. But, although anyone has the right to dislike another individual, it’s totally irrational, patently insane to condemn an entire race — to despise an entire nation — to vilify an entire religion. Sooner or later, we must learn to judge each other on our own merits. Sooner or later, if man is ever to be worthy of his destiny, we must fill our hearts with tolerance. For then, and only then, will we be truly worthy of the concept that man was created in the image of God ― a God who calls us ALL ― His children. 2.99. Available in North America and Europe. Oscorp Search & Destroy Pack - In The Amazing Spider-Manvideo game, Spider-Man has his own smartphone to help navigate around Manhattan, locate missions and challenges and fight crime. With this pack, Spider-Man's smartphone will feature two mini-games inspired by classic arcade fun. 2.99. Available in North America and Europe. Lizard Rampage Pack - The notorious Lizard is on the loose again in Manhattan! Take on the role of Dr. Connors' terrifying alter ego in a race against time. Go berserk through the streets using his devastating stomp attack and tail swipe to defeat Oscorp guards and earn mega points.

Lee knew his work was different, proudly noting that stories were drawn out over several issues not to make money but to better develop characters, situations and themes. He didn’t neglect his villains, either. One, the Moleman, went bad when he was ostracized because of his appearance, Lee wrote, adding it was “almost unheard of in a comic book” to explain why a character was what he was. Lee’s direct influence faded in the 1970s as he gave up some of his editorial duties at Marvel. But with his trademark white mustache and tinted sunglasses, he was the industry’s most recognizable figure. The Amazing Spider-Man is getting a whole bunch of DLC today, including a few different packs that will have you playing as people other than the titular wall-crawler. The Lizard Rampage pack will open up a level where you play as the Lizard, along with a new Spidey suit to wear. 49.99 on Steam, including complete integration with Steam achievements. A Nintendo 3DS demo is also now available in the Nintendo eShop. Rhino Challenge Pack - Take control of the massive, genetically engineered villain Rhino and rampage around Manhattan in an exclusive gameplay challenge of pure destruction! As Rhino, players will be able to unleash his formidable powers to destroy anything and everything in his path in a timed event full of speed, combo streaks, and of course, a ton of things to break! The Associated Press in a 2006 interview. Lee considered the comic-book medium an art form and he was prolific: By some accounts, he came up with a new comic book every day for 10 years. He hit his stride in the 1960s when he brought the Fantastic Four, the Hulk, Spider-Man, Iron Man and numerous others to life. His heroes, meanwhile, were a far cry from virtuous do-gooders such as rival DC Comics' Superman. The Fantastic Four fought with each other. Spider-Man was goaded into superhero work by his alter ego, Peter Parker, who suffered from unrequited crushes, money problems and dandruff.

XXX in the world of comic books were awesome. I happen to think they’re not exactly what a lot of people think but I don’t doubt their size and endurance. I knew him since 1970, worked for him a few times, talked with him at length and fielded an awful lot of phone calls from him asking me questions about comic books he worked on. He really did have a bad memory, if not when he first started telling people he had a bad memory, then certainly later on as he turned more and more into the Stan Lee character he’d created for himself. That’s all I’m going to write now. That’s where it begins and ends with me. To those of us who have been so deeply affected by the humanity of his imagination, the understanding of reaching beyond our potential and the necessity of tapping into our immeasurable imaginations, we thank you and are forever indebted. Rest In Peace Dear Stan. You made our time here a better one. What a man. What a life. When I first broke into Hollywood, he welcomed me with open arms and some very sage advice I’ll forever take to heart. A true icon who impacted generations around the world. Rest in love, my friend. I have to say I am deeply touched by the passing of Stan Lee… I always looked forward to seeing his cameo parts in all his great movies. 1 - Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there is a spiritual quality in all the Stan Lee movies… always the good guys win. Eventually, not always right away, but eventually. And his movies most of the time ended on an upbeat thought… that allowed us to ponder our existence. 2 - Stan Lee was also a man who could have been a musician but he was not good at music at all.

Legendary Marvel Comics co-creator Stan Lee — famous for giving the world beloved superheroes including Spider-Man, Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk — died Monday. According to TMZ, Lee suffered a number of illnesses over the last year, including pneumonia. His daughter J.C. told the site, “My father loved all of his fans. Lee was born Stanley Martin Lieber to Romanian-born Jewish immigrants in New York City, spending much of his early life in Washington Heights. He returned to Timely Comics in 1945 and married wife Joan two years later. In 1950, Timely Comics publisher Martin Goodman tasked Lee with creating a new superhero team to rival DC Comics’ Justice League. “Let’s lay it right on the line. Bigotry and racism are among the deadliest social ills plaguing the world today. But, unlike a team of costumed super-villains, they can’t be halted with a punch in the snoot, or a zap from a ray gun. The only way to destroy them is to expose them — to reveal them for the insidious evils they really are. The bigot is an unreasoning hater — one who hates blindly, fanatically, indiscriminately. If his hang-up is black men, he hates ALL black men. If a redhead once offended him, he hates ALL redheads. If some foreigner beat him to a job, he’s down on ALL foreigners. Stan Lee, the comic book mastermind who changed the landscape of the superhero genre, has died at age 95. Lee revolutionized the comic world by creating Marvel Comics superheroes such as Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four and The Incredible Hulk. An attorney for Lee's daughter, J.C. Lee, said the creative dynamo who revolutionized the comic world by introducing human frailties in superheroes such as Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four and The Incredible Hulk, was declared dead Monday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. In a statement to Fox News Shane Duffy, CEO of Stan Lee’s POW! I think everybody loves things that are bigger than life. I think of them as fairy tales for grown-ups," he told The Associated Press in a 2006 interview. "We all grew up with giants and ogres and witches. Well, you get a little bit older and you're too old to read fairy tales.

How long would this superhero movie thing last? He didn’t know. He was glad to be along for the ride. Happy to see the old characters he helped create being brought to life onscreen. We began talking about the origin of Spider-Man, born in 1962 after a string of other successes had made Stan Lee a powerhouse scribe at Marvel Comics. He had started working there when he was 17. Back then, Marvel Comics was known as Timely Comics, and he was known as Stanley Lieber, son of Jewish Romanian immigrants from the Bronx. His dream was to become a writer. But before any of that could happen, he earned cash by working a series of small jobs. As a theater usher, his first claim to fame was tripping and falling while showing Eleanor Roosevelt to her seat. “Are you all right, young man? Remember, this was six years before Iron Man and the launch of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The films were not yet interconnected, not that there were many to string together. Stan Lee cameos were not yet a phenomenon. He had played a beachside hotdog vendor in the X-Men film. That was it. (“You missed me?” he teased. “I was like the lead of the movie! ] idea was, I was selling sunglasses in Times Square and I was talking to this little girl, showing her a pair of glasses as Peter Parker walks by,” Lee recounted in his gruff, nasally voice. Think about the incredible characters that derived from the mind of this man. Iron Man, the X-Men, Thor, Daredevil and Dr. Strange. These are characters everyone knows and loves. Look at this list of Stan Lee's creations and think about which ones have gone onto success in other media as well as had very successful runs in comics. Every single one of them almost. Granted, a lot of that success is due to the efforts and contributions of those writers and artists who developed the characters through the years. But Stan Lee's fingerprint is on each and every one of them and will always be seen and felt. Can you name one single creator in comics that has contributed as much in terms of longevity, creativity and uniqueness? You can't because there are none. There are plenty of creators that have made great contributions and have written or drawn amazing characters and stories. But none can say they changed the face of the industry quite like Stan Lee can. No matter what happens from this day forward; no matter what superstar creators land at the Big Two. Stan Lee, Marvel Comics' own living legend, stands head and shoulders above the rest. LOS ANGELES (AP) — Stan Lee, the creative dynamo who revolutionized the comic book and helped make billions for Hollywood by introducing human frailties in Marvel superheroes such as Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four and the Incredible Hulk, died Monday. Lee was declared dead at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, according to Kirk Schenck, an attorney for Lee’s daughter, J.C. As the top writer at Marvel Comics and later as its publisher, Lee was widely considered the architect of the contemporary comic book. He revived the industry in the 1960s by offering the costumes and action craved by younger readers while insisting on sophisticated plots, college-level dialogue, satire, science fiction, even philosophy.

[zeldafanlegends]

Author’s Favorite Scenes:  Excerpt from  The Legacy of Myriad Book One - Mark of Wisdom: Chapter 16 - Gift

"Two children bound by fate will learn the truth of  their pasts and the direction of their futures with the awakening of a  powerful sage named Myriad."

Orphaned and sent to Kakariko Village  as babies, Link and Mira live a relatively normal life despite their  vast curiosities concerning the truth of their past and the identities  of their birth parents.  Yet their only clue is an amulet left to Mira  from the mother and father that gave her up, which doesn't provide any  answers. Such mysteries are put on hold however when a soldier from  Hyrule Palace brings news to Kakariko of the King and Queen's untimely  demise.  Soon after, the children are torn apart for ten long years-and  their reunion provides Mira with answers she never thought possible.   Not only is she the true Princess of Hyrule, but she's caught on a path  to destiny with Link that will change their lives forever.

Full Story Available on:

ff.net

Ao3

--- --- ---

“I had often wondered if, when the day came, I'd end up meeting the babes I placed in Impa's care seventeen years ago.”

Instantly, Link's gaze darted to Lyonel, and Mira's surprised expression mirrored his own feelings.

“You're the one who gave us to Impa?” she asked.

Unable to stop himself, particularly in recalling Myriad's claim that he'd learn more about his parents in Roshala, Link added the question, "Who told you to take us?"

Pulling his pipe from his lips, Lyonel looked from Mira to Link, quietly sizing him up as if to ascertain whether the young Hylian was ready to hear his answer.

For Link, such deliberation seemed to take an eternity, but his host finally related, "A mournful father did. He overheard Dragmire issuing a private command to have the newborn Princess taken from the Palace to be killed, and she wasn't the only baby there at that time. You were the other, and what better way to force Myriad's obedience than by threatening someone so young and innocent?”

Looking down at the table top, Lyonel added, "So your father sent you away with Zelda, hoping the two of you would form a friendship with each other instead of bearing the burden of loneliness, and seeing you both now, I'm certain he'd be pleased to learn he was correct.”

Mira quietly glanced across the table to see Link staring at its surface in thought, and could only hope he was alright. Sadly, the tone of his voice didn't inspire confidence over the matter when he asked, “Did you know my father?”

Letting a low sigh, Lyonel returned, “I know he served his post to the royal guard as valiantly as he could, but … .”

Trailing off with a look suggesting he'd just remembered something, Lyonel tapped his fingers on the table top in deliberation before standing and qualifying, “There's actually something I need to show you, Link. It'll take me a moment to find, but if you'll excuse me, I'll get it."

Link nodded, allowing the man to depart as just he noticed Mira gazing at him with concern in her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath through his nose that he exhaled from his mouth, he returned, "Just disappointed I guess, and angry over what Dragmire tried to do to us. What he did do.”

As he stared down at the table, Mira's hand slipped into view, moving to take his with a gentle squeeze. The sight of their joined palms evoked a wave of contentment and appreciation that only grew stronger when he looked up to regard the warmth and sympathy in her violet blue eyes.

Instantly, the rest of the world ceased to exist. Holding her gaze, he could barely recall the reason for his upset, particularly when she offered a tiny, reassuring smile filled with understanding. His heart swelled with more than simple contentment to see it—it also ached, though he couldn't think clearly enough to determine why.

He only knew that if it was his father's wish to provide his son with a friend, he'd found the most wonderful person in the world. She's just … beautiful.

For as absorbing as the quiet musings were, they came to an abrupt halt when Lyonel returned with a small satchel that he placed upon the table. With their hands drawing apart, they watched as he rummaged through the contents quietly, then produced an old envelope which he held out to Link.

"This is from your mother,” he explained. “She wrote it to be given to you once you were older, saying any of us ever found you again. Yet your father feared it would only tie you and Zelda to the palace even more strongly, so he asked me to keep it safe rather than send it with you.”

Link stared at the envelope, the paper tan with age, and couldn't quite get his fingers to take it. Still, he somehow reached out anyway, as if another had taken control of his arm to open the flap as Lyonel sat in silence with Mira, the two giving him ample time to read the message inside.

Thankfully, the elegantly written words upon the paper were still legible despite its age.

 My Only Son,

 As I write this letter, you are settled safely on my arm, fast asleep. Yet I fear that once I am done, you will be taken from this place. Your father has learned of evils being plotted against you and the newborn Princess Zelda, meaning it is no longer safe for you here, and that I would do anything to protect you, I must now do the hardest thing any parent could ever be asked to do.

 Relinquish their only child.

 My dearest Link, words cannot express my sorrow, and yet I needed to write this in the hopes that it will one day find you and tell you what I was never able to - I love you so very much.

 Releasing you will be the hardest thing I've ever done, and I'm not certain I can. Yet, watching you asleep now, I wish you could see yourself. So tiny and helpless, and this helplessness is the very reason I cannot fail.

 I pray that one day we will be reunited, and if we aren't, I pray this letter will be a constant reminder to you that I never meant for any of this to happen. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and no matter what comes, I beg you, never doubt yourself. I can look at you and see there is strength within you to pull through troubling times. So please use that to keep yourself safe where I am sadly unable to.

 Sincerely

 Your Loving Mother

A few tears borne of both sadness and anger spattered against the paper as Link read each word twice over. Aside from those tears, his mien remained impassive, but it was only a mask of calm for the emotions roiling in the pit of his stomach.

Quietly placing the letter down on the table, he stared at it in consideration of what his mother begged him to do, to leave all doubt behind and stand strong. Before that moment, he'd intended to do just that, not only for the people of Hyrule, but for Mira, his cherished friend who'd been just as wronged by Dragmire as he had.

And now?

"Now I have a third reason to fight.”

Turning in his chair, he stood to depart the room so abruptly the seat fell over.

Mira gasped at the sudden movement, staring behind her friend with the thud of the front door shutting hitting her ears only a moment later. Brow creased with worry, she reached for the letter to look the words over.

Reaching the end in quick time, a low sigh escaped her lips as she replaced the letter in its envelope, asking Lyonel, “Is it possible that Link's parents are still alive?”

“Anything's possible, though I've never been fond of offering false hope.” Turning his gaze to the door, he added, “Either way, you should go to him now. He needs someone who understands what he's going through, and you're that person. I'll go ready my guest rooms for you in the meantime.”

"Thank you, Lyonel,” Mira returned, knowing fully well he was right, and she was probably the only person Link would confide in or allow to console him—saying he was in the mood.

There was only one way to find out, however, and she soon joined him outside, exiting the front door to find her friend at the bottom of the porch steps, staring up at the full moon. Mira watched him for a silent moment before taking the steps to stand next to him without bothering to mask the sound of her footfalls.

Hearing them, Link briefly glanced her way, then sighed and provided an apology.

"I'm sorry I left like that. I was just angry."

"I know," she returned gently, adding, "but there's no need to apologize. You've every right to be angry, and so do I. Dragmire stole everything from us before we even had a chance to live, and now Ganondorf is freely carrying his father's legacy onward without regard for the cost.”

Proving he knew it, Link's head dipped, his fists balling as if her words had only renewed his anger. So Mira stepped around to stand before him, reaching to lift his chin until their gazes met.

There was a fiery determination in his sapphire eyes that made it difficult to recall what she wanted to say, but she managed to continue, “Some of the damage they've done can't be fixed, but we'll make sure it stops there, and I'll always be here if you need to talk, okay?”

Link continued to hold her gaze, unable to look away. She was no longer smiling, yet a warm sincerity was visible in the depths of her eyes proving she truly meant what she said—and bathed in moonlight, the expression was so sweet it scrambled his thoughts.

He'd spent ten years with her face just beyond the edge of his memory, and now that he could see it clearly, he didn't think he'd ever be rid of it. Perhaps it was their shared trauma, or maybe there really was more to the attraction he felt than mere physical appreciation. Either way, looking at her now, he wanted to do more than hug her tight.

He wanted to kiss her.

His anger dissolved at the thought, and it was difficult to resist the urge instead of simply taking her hand from his chin and pulling her in closer. Still, he managed to exercise restraint, limiting himself to a hug, and not just out of vast appreciation for their friendship.

He also knew the longer he regarded her lovely face, the more likely that kiss was to come true.

“You're right, we'll fix what we can,” he started, adding meaningfully, “and I know you'll be there, Mira. You always have been.”

Mira didn't resist his hug, her eyes closing as her temple came to rest upon his shoulder. A feeling of safety and comfort came with the way his arms wrapped around her, reminding her of the times they'd hugged as children. Even then, she'd found it hard to be truly afraid when Link was around, and not because she knew he'd protect her, but because he understood her feelings.

The thought prompted her to state, “When we were children, it always felt like you were the only person in the world who really understood me. That's how it feels now, too.”

With his cheek resting against the back of her head, he smiled and tightened his grip around her, agreeing, “Yeah, it does, and if we weren't actually meant to ever meet our parents, then I'm glad we've at least got each other.”

“So am I,” she whispered, confident that all would be well as long as they stuck together.

Inside the house, Lyonel stood at the living room window and tugged the curtain open just far enough to see the young Hylians hugging outside. A small, sad smile curved his lips in response. Knowing they were the same babies he'd sent away so long ago and seeing how close they'd actually become warmed the heart as much as their plight broke it.

Wiping a stray tear from his cheek, he sighed and regarded the flute clutched in his hand. Considering its origins, his smile grew as he turned from the window and walked upstairs. Link and Zelda would come inside when they were ready, and he wouldn't interfere.

Not when they needed to be alone.

--- --- ---

Full Story Available on:

ff.net

Ao3

[davidcarner]

Chuck vs the Nanny Ch 2

After this, you’re caught up

Disclaimer:  I don’t own Chuck…but I think it owns a piece of me (aww) enough, on to the story.

____ 

“You remember everything?” Chuck asked.  Sarah had a huge smile on her face, and it started to dim.  Ellie held her lip between her teeth.  Chuck tried to remain calm on the outside, but inside he was breaking.  He didn’t want to ask what he was thinking but he had to know.  “Okay, do you remember everything the last six years?”  Sarah looked at him and smiled.

“Every bit of it.” She said calmly.  Chuck nodded, and let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding.

“Okay, what about our wedding?”  Sarah shook her head, Chuck nodded, and gave her a reassuring smile.  “Me uploading the Intersect here in Castle with Ellie?”  Sarah smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I remember that!”

“Our first date?” he asked hopefully.  Sarah made a wincing face, and shook her head regretfully.

“Parts,” she said.  Chuck brightened and stood up straighter.  “I remember you saying you were terrific or amazing and I said you were,” she said smiling.  Chuck had a tight smile that he was losing.  “Not the first date?”

“Our real first date, but you said it was our second date, and I thought it was our second first date…”

“Bartowski!” Casey yelled.

“Right, spiraling.”  Sarah couldn’t help but smile.  

“I’m sorry,” Ellie said.  “Without a base for the Intersect to latch onto, the upgrade won’t hold for a lack of a better way to explain it.”  She turned and looked at Samantha.  “Since she was born with something…” She looked at Chuck and Sarah expectantly, not sure what to say.

“Samantha,” Sarah said.  Her daughter looked up at her.  “Do you think you and I could do some Kung Fu sparing?”  Samantha nodded.  “Do you know what non-lethal means?”

“Mommy, I would never kill you,” Samantha said sagely. Chuck and Sarah turned towards each other and smiled.  

“Wow, Bartowski, now all the women in your life can kick your butt,” Casey leaned in and whispered.  Gertrude grabbed him from behind and pulled him back.

“Keep it up, John, and I’ll show you what the woman in yours can do.”  Chuck beamed at Gertrude.  Sarah took Samantha’s hand and led them to the sparing area as everyone watched.

“Wow! Samantha’s gonna beat up my Mom!” Stephen told Beckman.

“Don’t you want to be closer to the action, young man?” Beckman said, a little uncomfortable.

“Nope, they both listen to you, and this could get bad.”  Beckman couldn’t help but agree with the young man.  Here was a three year old with all the knowledge of the Intersect. She said she could be non-lethal, but what did she really know about that?

“Flash and come at me,” Sarah said.  Samantha gave her a confused look.

“Mother, I don’t flash.  I dazzle people.”

“Dazzle?” Samantha nodded, “Well, come dazzle me.”

“I think zoom is better than that,” Chuck whispered to Morgan.

“Thank you!  And, of course, flash, is the OG.  You know both of ours at least had Flash references.”  It then dawned on Morgan, and he lightly tapped Chuck with the back of his hand.  “We should have known I was going evil, because I said Zoom.”  Chuck caught the reference and nodded.  That’s when they noticed everyone watching them.

“Are you two retired hens about done, because the real women in the room are going to show us how to fight,” Casey said, proud of himself.  He then saw Gertrude.  “Of course, you’re a real woman too,” he added quickly and started to turn around. Chuck and Morgan took the mature route and stuck their tongues out at Casey.  Casey grunted and everyone turned toward Sarah and Samantha.  Samantha’s eyes quickly flickered, and suddenly she came at Sarah.  The two fought for barely a minute.  Sarah was sweating from the strenuous workout, barely able to keep up with her daughter, while Samantha seemed calm with every one of her moves.  Chuck began to think Sarah was going to lose when Samantha stopped, and bowed.

“Is that sufficient, Mother?”  Chuck looked at Beckman, whose eyes were huge.  She looked at Chuck, and Chuck shook his head. There was no way his daughter was doing anything CIA related.  Beckman gave a short crisp nod to agree with him and Chuck returned a grateful smile.

“That was great, Honey,” Sarah said.  Samantha hugged her mother in joy, and Sarah knew deep down they would be okay.  “General, I’m in.”

“Me too,” Chuck said.

“We all are,” Casey grunted.  

“Very well,” Beckman said.  “When Jason gets here, we’ll go over the plan.  This has been an interesting day.”  With that she walked out of the room.

“Dude, your entire family is just awesome!” Devon said, coming up behind Chuck.  Chuck smiled, and turned toward him, but the smile died some.  

“I just want them to be normal,” Chuck said, looking over at his wife and children.

}o{

6 years ago

Chuck hadn’t exactly lied to Sarah, but he needed some time to himself.  Sarah had taken control of Castle, and she was everywhere in the apartment, which was great, because she was starting to act like it was her home, but there was nowhere for Chuck to go to think.  Chuck found himself back at his house….the one that was supposed to be Sarah’s dream house that Chuck had fallen in love with.  He had bought it the day after he saw her at the beach.  He didn’t know why he didn’t move in…he did, he wasn’t ready yet. He didn’t know why he hadn’t told Sarah…he did, it was too much, and he wasn’t sure how she’d take it.  He didn’t know why this place had become home…he did, it was a possible future that he wanted with all his heart.  Even knowing it was only possible, and not necessarily even probable, made him happy.  He came here to think through big decisions.  Since Sarah had come back to Carmichael Industries, things were going smoothly, especially since he always agreed with Sarah.  Today…today he didn’t agree and he didn’t know how to tell her. The job she thought they should take, he thought it was too dangerous, and he didn’t know how to tell her without hurting her.  He worried it would open them up personally, and while right now, it was just him and her, he couldn’t chance the future.  He sighed, sitting on the steps that lead upstairs.  He should really tell Sarah where he was he was thinking, as his phone rang.

“Hey,” came the voice over the phone that always made his heart swell with love.  “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine…unless there’s something I don’t know about.”  There was a pause.

“Chuck,” she paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “You went quiet today.”

“Just thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” she said and he knew she knew.  She didn’t have memories!  How could she know?  “Chuck, you talk about everything.”

“Not everything,” he said, a little whiney. There was silence.  “I mean really, you’ve only remember the past month, how is it you know this?”

“It’s love memory,” she said softly.

“Love memory?” he snorted.  

“Yeah, it’s like muscle memory with your heart, you nerd,” she shot back, but Chuck could feel the smile through the phone.

“Oh, so it has nothing to do with the fact your one of the greatest spies on the planet?”  There was a pause from the other end.

“Maybe,” she admitted.  “Are you coming home soon, or are you going to sit in that empty house all day?”  Chuck sputtered and she had a soft laugh.  Chuck didn’t know what to say.  “I followed you when you left all quiet and when I realized where you were going I followed a hunch and I pulled the records.  You bought it the day after I left.  You didn’t tell me because you thought it would be too much pressure, right?”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“You never cease to amaze me,” she replied. “Now am I coming over there, or are you coming over here so we can talk about you keeping secrets when you’re not supposed to and what’s bothering you?”

“I’m coming home.”

“Chuck,” Sarah said just above a whisper.  “Home is wherever you are.”  Chuck nearly dropped the phone.  He gathered himself and then spoke the best he could without his voice breaking.

“I’m coming to the apartment.  There’s something we need to talk about, and I’ve got to be honest with you.”

“That’s all I ever asked,” she said, and paused. “I love you.”  And the line was silent.  Chuck ran to his car.

}o{

Now

The doorbell rang at the Bartowski house.

“I’ll get it,” Stephen bellowed.  

“Maybe you shouldn’t and let one of the adults until this whole thing is over, Ace,” Chuck said to the boy.  

“Aww, Dad, but I know kung-fu!”  He began to come at his father with the moves Morgan had taught him.  

“And, while that is awesome, maybe we should keep that as our secret weapon,” Chuck said winking.  His son winked back, and tore off to another part of the house. Chuck shook his head and opened the door.  Sarah came into the living room just as Chuck opened the door.  He saw Beckman and who he could only assume was Jason Black. Chuck thought the picture didn’t do the man justice.  He looked even better if that was possible.  Chuck glanced back at his wife who was taking him in, she raised her eyebrows in appreciation when she caught Chuck’s glance.  She gave him a look that said, “Don’t be stupid, you know I only love you,” and Chuck couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but Jason just arrived and I wanted him to become familiar with the children and the house,” Beckman said.

“Please, come in,” Chuck said, a little upset with himself for not inviting them in quicker.  “Does Jason need to move in?”  Beckman glanced at Jason as they entered the house.

“That’s totally up to you,” he answered.  Chuck shook his head and his wife prayed he didn’t say what was in his head.

“Even your voice sounds incredible,” Chuck heard himself say, and he squeezed his eyes shut, realizing how that sounded.

“Well, thank you,” Jason said, grinning.  Sarah rolled her eyes.

“There’s a guest room upstairs if you wish to stay and think it best,” she said.  Jason looked at her, nodded, and then he turned back to Chuck.

“I will make sure your children are safe.”

“Thank you,” Chuck replied, grinning.  “Let me show you to your room.”  As Chuck took Jason upstairs, Sarah walked over to Beckman.

“General, how bad is this?”  Beckman looked at the younger woman, and sighed.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.  “And, that’s what scares me.”  Sarah nodded.

“I’m sorry you had to come out of retirement for this.”  Beckman smiled.

“I’m not, I’ve been on the sidelines too long.”

“Roan fell the same way?”  Beckman studied Sarah’s face for a moment.  

“I have no idea,” Beckman answered.  She walked to the door, opened it, and turned back to Sarah, seemingly unsure of herself.  “Keep an eye on him.”  Sarah smiled.

“General, I’ve been fighting off men’s advances for years.”

“Not, Jason, Chuck.”  Sarah gave her a look.

“Oh.”

“Black is one of the best in the business but he’s here for the children.  I need the best to watch him.”  Sarah smiled. Beckman started to leave, paused, and turned back to Sarah.

“Trust your family, those blood and not.”  Sarah started to answer when Chuck and Jason came downstairs laughing.

“Sarah, I think this is going to work out great,” Chuck said.

“That’s great Chuck,” she said going over and sliding her arm around him.  

“I think we’re going to be fine.”  Beckman and Sarah glanced at each other.

“I know you’ll do whatever is necessary for our family, now and in the future,” she said, looking at Black.  Jason excused himself to go clean up and unpack while Beckman left without another word.  Chuck was oblivious to everything going on, because he was thinking about the first time that he and Sarah finally approach the subject of the future.

}o{

6 years ago

Chuck entered the apartment, not sure what to say to Sarah.  She was sitting on the couch drinking a glass of wine, with a knowing smile on her face.

“I should have told you,” Chuck began, but stopped at the smile on her face.

“Come on, Chuck,” Sarah began, still grinning. “You know how long it would have took you to explain it.  I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” She pointed a finger at him.  “No more secrets.”

“No matter how much they hurt?” The smile left Sarah’s face.  She nodded.

“No matter how much they hurt.  You need to tell me what is bothering you.”

“Can I explain first?”  Sarah grinned.

“I’d expect nothing less.”  Chuck smiled and sit on the other side of the couch, purposely creating a space between them.  Sarah shook her head, got up, and sat down right beside him, seated where she was looking right at him.  Chuck reached out tentatively, and Sarah gave him her hand.

“Here’s the horrible truth, you don’t remember the last five years and how much you changed.”  Sarah nodded.  “But, that’s not exactly true.  See, what I learned over five years is you were already changing, you saved the baby, now your sister.  You were already thinking of leaving the CIA, and I think being with me, you thought about life after the CIA.”  Sarah nodded. “Love is not something you can control, and there’s one thing I know about you is you hate surprises and love control.”  Sarah smiled, knowing he was right.  “Here’s what’s already different.  The first year, you never let me know how you felt, until you thought we were going to die, and you kissed me.”  Sarah thought for a second, she looked down at the ground, and her face contorted a little, and then her head snapped back up, surprise on her face.

“And pulled a gun on you and threatened to kill you,” she said, trailing off.  Chuck grinned.

“I was being a bit of a stubborn jerk.” Sarah smiled softly.

“I don’t know about being a jerk, but when it comes to me you can be a bit stubborn, and I’m glad you are.”  Chuck smiled.  “So what does this have to do with today?”  Chuck nodded.

“Hang on, I’m getting there.”  Sarah rolled her eyes, grinning.  “So, now, the ‘Chuck shield’ is gone.”

“The ‘Chuck shield’?” Sarah asked, using air quotes.

“Yeah, the ‘I’m not going to let him see how I really feel’ mask you put on.”  Sarah gave him a level look.

“Oh, really?  I mean, it’s not like I sit around making goo-goo eyes at you all day,” she said, with a very confident look on her face.  Chuck fought a smile, and the confident look slowly fell off her face.  “No, I don’t.”  Chuck glanced at the remote control on the table, and looked back at her, fighting, unsuccessfully, the smile that threatened to consume his face.  

“I know what to look for now,” he said softly. “You and Casey trained me in some things about reading people.”  Sarah scoffed.

“I’m not,” she began, but Chuck reached down, grabbed the remote, and stopped.

“I bet in 20 minutes I can find five times on the castle footage that we run of you pushing your hair back over your ear, or glances when you think I’m not looking, or other little things that you and Casey taught me to look for.  Do you really want me to go looking?”  Sarah stared at him, trying to look irritated, but she slowly began to blush and Chuck’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.  His mouth dropped open in shock, and she gave him a playful push. She took the remote, gently, but forcefully, out of his hand.  

“Okay, so maybe I’m feeling things, I already told you I love you, so what’s the point to this and the job?”

“This job could jeopardize us if we have a future someday,” Chuck said, taking her hand.  “It leaves us too exposed, and frankly I don’t want us having to worry about someone targeting us or any possible family.”

“Ellie and Awesome,” Sarah said softly.  Chuck looked away for a second and then back at Sarah. She knew there was more, and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Total truth?” he asked.  She nodded.  “ANY possible family.”  She thought for a second, and straightened a little.

“Oh, kids,” she said, looking down.  Chuck sat there with the look only he could have.  

“Sarah, it may only be a 1% chance or less, but you would never forgive yourself if you threatened the safety of your kids because of something we did today.”

“Do you think we’ll have kids,” she asked softly, ashamed that she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I have no idea,” he answered truthfully. She lifted her head and looked in his eye.

“Do you think we’ll figure us out?”  Chuck took a deep breath.

“You want the truth?”  She nodded, Chuck grinned.  

“It may not be what you want to hear,” he warned.

“I need to know.”  Chuck dropped his head and nodded, looking at the floor.  His face cracked into the biggest smile and he looked up, his eyes holding hers.

“I’ve fought for you for five years, and I’m going to fight for you for the rest of my life, so yes.  It may take us a very long time to get there, for you to remember, or understand, or whatever it is that you need to know that you can’t control what we feel for each other, but yes, we will be back together.”  Sarah smiled, reached up, and rubbed his face with her hand.  Tears were in her eyes.

“I don’t know if I can ever love you as much as you love me,” she began.  Chuck started to speak, but she laid a finger on his lips.  “I know I’ve done some stuff for us, and I’d move mountains for us, but you…you put your heart out there every day, knowing it will probably get rejected, watching out for the possibility of a future us, protecting kids you can’t even really believe will happen given where we are, and yet you keep being you.  No complaints, patient as can be, and never, ever, pressuring me to do one thing I’m not ready for.”  Chuck smiled behind her finger.  He gently moved it from his mouth.

“That’s just it, Baby.  You would, you have, and you did.  Someday you’ll remember, or learn again, or just go with it, and until that day, know, it’s all worth it.”  Sarah looked deep into his eyes, leaned forward, and gently kissed him.  When she pulled away, she ran her hand lightly through his hair.  

“So, no to the job,” she said.  Chuck nodded.  She stood, and looked down at Chuck.  “I need some time.”  Chuck nodded. She started to turn and go, but stopped and faced him.  “You know once we take the next step, I can’t go back, right?”  Chuck nodded.  “You know I can’t do that to you, right?  You know that’s why I’m being so cautious, not because I don’t love you, and don’t want you, it’s because I can’t hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“Baby, you’re here with me, and that’s all I care about.”  She smiled, turned, and headed to her room.  After the door closed, Chuck let out a breath.  “I need a shower…a cold one…possibly two.”  And, that’s what he went to do.  Leaving the shower, he realized he didn’t bring any clothes to change into.  He wrapped a towel around himself, and made his way down the hall, hoping he didn’t run into Sarah.  He didn’t think she’d be upset with him to see him that way, but he really wasn’t sure, and the last thing he needed was her thinking he pressured her.  He noticed light coming from his room.  He pushed the door opened slowly, and saw candles lit around the room.  He started to say something, when he noticed Sarah laying on the bed, dressed in the same purple negligee she had worn when she had been his pretend girlfriend a long time ago.  His mouth was dry. She smiled at him.  

“I lied,” she said softly, playing with a piece of the clothing.  “I wore this on purpose back then.  I don’t know why.  I mean, I really don’t remember why.  I remember thinking how much you’d like it, but I can’t remember, and that sucks.  I may never get my memories back, but I know I love you.  I know you love me.  I know I don’t want to go through life without you.”  Chuck stood there, speechless.  “Chuck?”

“This isn’t a dream, or the Intersect, or phase 3, or phase 4, or something that happens to me in these situations?” Sarah smiled coyly.

“Chuck, I do remember something.”  She stood up, walked over to him, and undid the towel. As it hit the floor, his mouth dropped. “Chuck, shut up and kiss me.”  And he did.

[black-strike-otp]

part 48

Such a soft boy, I’m so proud ;w; He’s a good son sajgdklasjg

Also who??? does not love Guard??? literally who??? I’ll fight u.

With no sign of Guard in sight, Blackout chose to recharge for a few jours instead of wandering around the vessel. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak with the senior mech, he told himself. It was just a waste of time to stand around hoping to run into him.

Novastrike had no qualms with the idea of curling up close to him anyway to rest, and Scorponok claimed his corner with glee (happy to free of his backside, no doubt). Even in the comfort though of allies, Blackout found recharge far from easy to come by. He would go under briefly and then awaken. Nagged with doubt, pestered by memories, harassed by the very question he didn’t realize he had been avoiding until now.

Without the Decepticons, what was he? What goals did he have?

Embarrassingly, little spoke to him. He nervously could admit to himself, and only to himself, that he held interest in seeing how far this thing went on with Novastrike. Other than that however, there was nothing. Maybe it was a good idea to put himself back in a position of control. There was a schedule; there was delegating, debating, work to be done, shoots to be called.

But the question was, would any bot truly follow him? Would his orders be enough, or would they want validation from another ranking council member? What would he do if someone didn’t listen? This wasn’t his ship; these were not soldiers. They were mechs and femmes just wanting to live. Who could say how long their respect for him would last when his suggestions became not just ideas, but functional law on the vessel?

As thoughts and questions danced in his processor, time ticked steadily by. Before he knew it, small servos were groggily grabbing at his arm, startling him slightly.

“How long have you been awake?” Nova woozily asked.

Blackout offered her a light smile, reaching over to rub the top of her helm. “Not too terribly long,” he fibbed.

She gave a small nod. “You goin’ to speak with Guard today?”

“That’s the plan.”

“A’ight,” she mumbled, offering a tired smile. “I’m going to go hit the shower racks before most of the how water’s used up. Let me know when you’re free later to share some energon and catch up?”

He gave a small nod. “That I can do.”

“Thank you handsome devil,” Novastrike cooed, pressing a kiss against his armor. The barest touch left a warm tingly sensation through his armor into his protoform and sizzled in his circuits and veins.

It was such a bizarre reaction, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. The way she touched him, looked at him; it awoken a deadened spirit long suppressed inside him. She breathed life anew into him with every smile and lingering kiss that he just couldn’t deny anymore.

He smiled at her broadly even though it felt foolish on his face. But the returned gesture as her lips curved up ever so slowly and her ears began to glow softly; by what gods where may be, he would give anything to see that look on her face every day.

All too soon she was rolling over and hopping to her pedes. She arched her back and after a few nanokliks too long appreciating the contour of frame and the tapered ends of her armor Blackout finally removed his wanton optics. All the better she didn’t catch him staring; he could only imagine her reaction. Or rather, he could imagine one of many scenarios in which she’d react ranging from taunting him to well- thoughts best left alone.

There was a soft strike of metal against metal as she jumped from the berth and on the floor. Pressing a servo to the berth, the tall obsidian mech sat up and watched as she sauntered off for the door. She turned just before they closed behind her, pressing her palm to her mouth and blowing him a kiss.

The way his unruly spark reacted to such a display of affection was deplorable.

Blackout relished every bit of those moments.

Flickering his optics over to the corner of the room, the enormous mech looked to his partner. The scorpion was still curled up mostly. There was no movement from the tiny mech, no sign of being awake yet as his optics were shuttered and his frame still.

He gave his companion a light nudge through the bond. Nothing; radio silence.

Leaving the minicon to his rest, Blackout very slowly moved his legs over the edge of the berth and went to stand. He walked with great care towards the door, and stepped out as quietly as possible. When the door sealed behind him he released a vent, and casually strode down the short intersecting hall towards the primary corridor.

“Hey Blackout!”

“Good to see you up, big guy.”

“How’s it going tall and menacing?”

Baffled by the polite and mocking nature as ever, Blackout offered quietly rumbled remarks and polite waves to those who spoke to him as they passed down the hall. Some of the wider-built bots had to angle themselves not to run into his own massive frame and they’d snicker a little and make a remark on how he was too big for his own good.

Everybot was so damn friendly on this ship. It was odd not to see anyone trying to stab each other in the back. Even living on board the vessel for over a year now, he hadn’t come to terms with the way everyone treated each other.

“Have you seen Guard today?” Blackout’s baritone drawled after the sixth or so bot he’d ran into greeted him.

“Sure have,” the femme responded. “He was with the doc in sick bay when I walked by not long ago. She wasn’t letting him out of the room for whatever reason.”

Colored with mild concern, Blackout offered a nod of gratitude and headed just that way.

Hastening his way down the hall, the giant mech made it swiftly to the medical room. He cringed inwardly as he approached, half expecting that lunatic femme medic to be waiting to ambush him. The doors opened with a hum before him as he inched closer.

Guard and the medic looked up as he stepped inside. There was a sour look upon the femme’s faceplate as she turned back around, shifting her weight awkwardly in her knelt position to get better access at Guard’s leg. Or really, what remained of it beneath the tattered and replaced sections of armor that had been covering it.

“Ah, Blackout, good to see you young mech,” the old mech greeted brightly. He gave a nod of his helm, blue optics brimming with glee.

“Sir,” Blackout respectfully rasped, dipping his helm.

“What did I tell you about that? I’m not your superior, mech, please. I’m just an old bot.”

“All the more reason to show tribute,” Blackout disagreed.

The medic gave an unpleasant noise in her throat. “Kiss-aft,” she muttered.

“You’re just upset that he honor a feeble old mech like myself, and doesn’t sit nicely when you ask him too,” Guard remarked, wincing slightly. “Which I can easily understand. You don’t really have the most careful touch, milady.”

“That was on purpose.”

“She’s a sadist,” Blackout cut in.

“Maybe you’re right,” Guard agreed with a snicker. “Now, I assume you came looking for me for a reason?”

Shifting on his pedes uneasily, the huge mech gave a small nod. He could taste the weariness on his glossia again just standing there.

Giving a wave of his servo to prompt him, Guard spoke eagerly, “Well?”

“I’ve been thinking about your request,” Blackout slowly spoke, “and if your council members agree to it, I would be willing to take on the position of an additional commander.”

The medic’s helm shot up, whacking against the side of the bunk. She instantly went to place a servo against her helm to rub the tender spot, staring between the two. From her face, it looked like she had a thousand questions starting at ‘when did you offer him this position’ to ‘you said yes’, but she remained respectfully quiet as she stared.

Offering a sage bob of his helm, Guard’s tired old smile grew wider. “I figured you would agree after given some time to think about it,” he stated with relief. “The extra servo would be most helpful around here, especially with how... absent minded Neutroboost has been for some time. They’ll listen to you, I know they will. It may be a bit selfish of me asking you to do this when you are only with us for the sake of rescuing you and to stay with our resident soft-sparked femme,” he paused just enough to flash a grin as Blackout stiffened, “but I am eternally grateful for the aid. My leg gets worse every day. I have no doubt that I will entirely lose the ability for it to function sooner rather than later. It would be nice knowing there’s a trustworthy bot looking out for us all.”

A mixture of emotions stirred in Blackout. He didn’t like hearing Guard so calmly talk about his disability; how he seemed to think he would lose all function and use without his appendage. Despite the mech’s claims to being selfish, he still felt incredibly honored and humbled to be given the privilege of working for the charitable mech.

“I will do my very best, commander,” Blackout softly responded. “But do not give up hope so easily on yourself.”

“It’s not a matter of hope I’m afraid, son, but a matter of time.”

Blackout’s optics shuttered in a rapid session of blinks. Son?

In the brief pause, the femme reattached the sections of Guard’s leg paneling, shielding the majority of the damage from optic view. She gave a short huff, seeming less than pleased.

“I’d continue, but I have a feeling you’re about to go,” the femme snorted.

Guard’s twinkling optics turned upon her. “Always in my thoughts, aren’t you?”

She offered a thin smile. “I expect you back here after you’re done with your meeting. I’d still like to check on a few things, and take some measurements. Worst-best case scenario if we can find a... donor limb.”

“You know I don’t care for the idea of taking parts from the deceased without prior consent,” Guard grumbled unhappily.

“And as your medic, I don’t give a frag,” she hissed, glancing back at Blackout. “I know you weren’t informed that some of the team was scouting bodies in the previous wreckage for a suitable replacement, but I figured since you’re going to his new right-servo mech, you might as well be aware. Who knows, with the outtings you take, maybe you’ll run into something that could help.”

“I’ll keep my optics open,” Blackout vaguely agreed. The idea of using someone else’s parts without their approval left a bad feeling in Blackout’s tanks as well, but this was war after all. Beggars could not be choosers, and in Guard’s case, he was still very much needed by his devoted crew.

The old mech reached over for his cane that was laid out beside him and placed it on the floor. With a heave of his bulky frame, he gingerly placed pressure on his good leg and then his bad. A grimace crossed the mech’s faceplate, clearly in aching pain.

The medic’s optics clouded over with sympathy. “Guard, maybe you should-”

“No, aye, keep your servos off I got this,” he bickered softly, adjusting his grip on his cane.

A pang shot through Blackout. Somewhere along the lines, this gentle old mech saw fit to not only house him in what was essentially his home, but took the chance to allow him to stay. He lived because this mech wouldn’t allow him to be tossed right back off the ship. Guard had essentially rescued him just as much as Novastrike and the medic did.

And he still fought to believe in him. No matter his past, no matter his attitude, no matter the amount of mistakes he made. That elderly old bot still kept going and still keep trusting in him to make the right choices.

If he could put that much faith in him, Blackout could do him the favor of proving him right.

Finally settling on a position, the old mech gave a warm grin towards Blackout. “Are you ready to join me in calling a meeting then?”

“Yes, sir,” Blackout firmly responded, offering a ghost of a smile in return.

~

The usually somewhat crammed lounge room was suddenly void of its occupants. One of the few tables in the room had been removed of all trash and knickknacks. It seemed much brighter in here than usual without all the shadows and bots pressing into each other trying to find a spot to sit or stand.

As Guard and Blackout entered the room, sitting at the table Blackout recognized the servoful gathered around. He’d spoken to most of them at least a few times; others on a more regular basis in fact.

He’d never been clarified on whom, exactly, Guard considered council on board the ship. Who’s opinions spoke loudest, who held the most experience other than the crafty old mech and his rowdy younger equal in commander. But now that he got a look at them, he understood why these particular bots had been chosen at one point or another.

The mech in all silver armor had a knack for engineering and was a wonderful technician.

The femme in startling bright cherry red with accented yellow-green and blue-green trim here and there was always quietly observing just about everything. Although he’d never gotten a chance to pin down what her importance was, it came to light that she might be an informant; keeping an audio out on what everyone on board the ship was talking about.

That mech over there in worked in the science division that had come from the Journey. The mech there was one who frequently guarded the energon stock.

It seemed everyone in the room had a quirk, a talent, a natural gift. Others who seemed less easy to pick up on their habits, Blackout could still figure out their uses. Bots who could listen, who could gossip, who could talk and figure out the way the gears turned in the ship and the way folks felt about each other simply by observing as they naturally would.

Remaining further back by the door, Blackout uncomfortably stood in place as Guard hobbled further in. Much of the crowd immediately grew from quiet and mumbling among each other to warm and outgoing instantaneously. Bots were holding out their servos, eager to shake with their great commander.

Really, Blackout couldn’t blame them. It put a smile on his face. It was hard not to enjoy Guard’s calm presence. There was a part of his enthusiasm and his bold speeches that reminded him of Megatron in some ways. He could see where he’d learned some of his grand showmanship, but unlike his old leader, Guard used his influence purely to connect and draw bots together for their own safety. There was no hidden message, no ultimate goal to achieve other than to live in harmony.

“Everybot, sit, please, sit, I insist,” Guard chuckled warmly.

The assembled crowd that had been gathering so close to him immediately went to go seat themselves. Though, comically, it appeared most tried to fight to sit closest or directly across to where Guard went to slowly seat himself.

Everyone except for one.

“What’s he doing here?” Neutroboost scowled, jerking his chin towards Blackout as his optics narrowed into fine slits.

“He’s what I assembled you all together for,” Guard answered warmly. He turned just enough in his seat to offer a beckoning gesture to Blackout.

Feeling exposed and awkward, the big mech slowly crept over to stand at the table. There was no seating left for him, so he remained slightly behind and to the right of Guard.

Giving each other unsure glances, the council members looked between each other and the hulking figure standing by the table.

Naturally, Neutroboost was the first to throw his thoughts out.

“Are we finally dumping this Decepticon off the ship?” he inclined.

Appearing unfazed, Guard turned his ever-gentle smile on to Neutro. “Since you’re so eager to get down to the point, no Neutroboost, I’m afraid that’s not what I gathered you all for,” the old mech acknowledge. “Instead, I came with a proposition. I implore all of you to consider adding Blackout here to the ranks of commander.”

A murmured quietly went through the small crowd as everyone turned to each other once more. Blackout nervously met optic contact with those who turned to look at him. This grinded on his nerves more than becoming a commanding officer for the Decepticon’s ever did.

“C-Commander?” Neutroboost stammered. “Guard, you must be joking.”

“Certainly not. Why would I joke about bringing such an experienced mech in as a commanding officer?”

“Because he’s a homicidal maniac!” Neutro countered, slamming a fist into the table as he stood up. “Because he’s a Decepticon, because he’s crazy, because he’s clearly working for Megatron- there’s a million reasons! Razorjaw, back me up.”

Neutroboost went to nudge the mech closest to him and he leaned away, looking nervous.

“He hasn’t done anything to threaten us,” Razorjaw timidly disagreed.

“He’s saved our afts more than once,” another agreed.

“If it wasn’t for him, we’d all have been scrapped by the Revenge II.”

“Blackout’s brought in fresh energon and supplies.”

Guard passed a sideways glance towards Blackout. There was a knowing light in his optics all but too proud. It made the former Decepticon Hound want to squirm.

“You all can’t be serious!” Neutroboost bellowed as he thrust a digit in his direction. “This mech works for a tyrant! He’s bloodthirsty! He’s helped dwindle our race down by the thousands, he’s wipes species out of existence, he’s destroyed planets! He has no place among this ship, let alone being a commanding officer!”

“What has he done to any of us on the Rising Star?” Guard calmly inquired. “He has fetched material. He has helped transport goods. He’s even went out on his own scouting missions with no request on behalf of any of us and returned with supplies. He could have destroyed us, reported us, handed us over to the nearest black market in a moment’s notice and he has not done so.”

“Probably because he has been waiting for just this moment! He wants us all soft, vulnerable, kissing his aft and thanking us for saving his life.”

“Just because you don’t trust him does not mean that others do not.”

Neutroboost curled his lip up at the statement. His ruthless stare threw daggers at Blackout. Luckily for him, he was used to such stares. Where other, lesser mechs might cower, he merely felt metaphorical pins being tossed uselessly against his thick, impenetrable armor.

“I don’t see a reason why he couldn’t be a commander,” a femme stated, pressing a digit to her mouth.

“I’d vote yes,” a mech stated proudly.

“As would I.”

“Me too.”

“He’s going to turn on all of you and lead you to his master,” Neutro growled. “He’ll turn this ship to dust, and all of you with it. You’re making a huge mistake. Look at him: is there one thing about that disgrace for a Cybertron that says kind or thoughtful to you?”

One of the femmes leaned in to a mech beside her, and although her tone was meant to be a whisper, she clearly had a naturally loud voice as she spoke: “Clearly Neutroboost hasn’t seen the way Blackout shuttles Novastrike everywhere like she’s a goddess, no?”

Neutroboost’s optics were dark and livid.

“May I speak a few words?” Blackout echoed deeply.

Everyone grew quiet, staring predictably at Guard. He offered a short, single nod of his helm.

“I know I do not have the cleanest history,” Blackout growled quietly. “I am not what you deserve, nor what you expect. However, Guard asked of me a task I could hardly refuse. It would be a dishonor upon him for me not to take on the task. I can’t promise you that I will be as nurturing as Guard, or as clever as Neutroboost,” he hated complimenting that despicable worm, “but I would do my best to serve the Rising Star and those within it seeking salvation to the best of my ability. Bots on this ship risked their lives to save my own. It wouldn’t be right for me to not be willing to do the same.”

As he finished, Blackout turned his crimson optics on to Guard. Although the old mech was not looking to him, Blackout could swear he could feel the approving look of the mech staring out at the others.

“I would hate to rush your decisions,” Guard stated in a voice that suggested otherwise, “But I would like to ask if the council is ready to vote.”

Bots exchanged brief glances. Some were grinning, others passing nods.

“We are,” the cherry colored femme stated.

Being the overdramatic bot that he was, Neutroboost slammed his servos back on the table as he threw his temper tantrum. Things were obviously not leaning in his direction.

“Do not do this,” he threatened, glaring at each and every last bot in the room. Most turned their optics away, either with shame or with fear.

His optics stopped, pausing on Guard’s. There was a challenge in the air; a shift as they fought for power with looks alone.

A different mech, surprisingly, spoke up.

“Neutroboost, you hardly have the fight to represent this mech, or judge him. Blackout has been there for us more than you have for months. All you do is shut yourself away in your room, locking out everyone and conversation. You won’t listen to reason. You won’t offer your aid, your word, a moment of your time but for a few moments here and there when we can grasp your attention. You act without pity or compassion or remorse. Your attitude is hardly befitting of a commander. If it wasn’t for Guard’s generosity and his love and faith he has in you, I would personally try to throw your useless aft off this council board. But I would never wish to harm Guard in that way. I trust him. And I trust in his judgment, as well as Blackout.”

The mech turned his gaze onto Blackout, offering a smile nearly as endearing and warm as Guard’s. “I say a very delighted frag yes.”

“I say yes.”

“Yes here.”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

Everyone turned to look at Neutroboost. The deciding vote which would normally be placed upon him seemed to no longer hold importance. With Guard’s approval and every other member of the council backing him, there was no longer a need for his ‘yes’.

And Blackout knew they wouldn’t have it.

Shoving back his seat, Neutroboost slammed his pedes into the ground. He stood and turned his sneer upon everyone at the table furiously. Stepping around Blackout, he shoved into the bigger mech’s side.

Blackout only passed him a glance. His armor was scuffed, he thought absentmindedly. Novastrike wasn’t going to be pleased.

“You’ve all made a big mistake,” Neutroboost warned, turning as he stomped out of the room. “And you’ll be begging my forgiveness when he turns on you.”

With dramatic flair, the door closed in the mech’s face as he whipped around to depart.

Seeming as nonchalant as ever, Guard turned just enough in his seat to look to Blackout. He extended a servo, optics burning bright.

“Welcome to the team, commander,” he announced proudly.

Blackout reached out numbly, grasping the old mech’s servo. A grin slowly spread across his face as he shook Guard’s surprisingly firm grasp.

“Thank you, sir,” he reported in a strong voice. “I’ll do my best to prove that you all made the right decision.”

“I already feel safer,” a femme purred, leaning back in her chair to look Blackout up and down.

A mech gave her a nudge, chuckling.

“Here here,” another agreed.

Another mech close to Guard reached out, patting Blackout on the arm. “You’ll do just fine, mech.”

“We got your back. Neutro will calm down, just give him time.”

Blackout smiled gratefully, making sure to take the time to shake each and every servo in the room to show his appreciation. Still, despite their praise and joy, he couldn’t help feeling a voice in the back of his helm nagging him to do his best. He couldn’t let all these bots down, not after everything they’ve been through, the trust they put in him, even turning against one of their own commander’s decisions.

He had to do right by them and by the Rising Star. No matter what.

[avengers-nextgen]

The Rise Of The Lost VI

Rooftops are tempting. It was no wonder Fox perched on top of one every night. She enjoyed it, the way the city unfolded before her, splayed out like a hand of poker cards.

The stars glittered like the diamonds and watches she liked to snatch. They taunted her with winks and smiles and Fox hated them with all of her being. She hated a lot of things.

She hated people. All people. There wasn’t a single person in the entire world that deserved her approval. There wasn’t a person in the entire world who hadn’t walked past someone like her, ignored a girl beaten by a man, or a man beaten by a girl. People ignored lousy parents all the time leaving children to suffer.

No, the world was full of bad apples. Everyone was a bad Apple. Even still, there was a wounded butterfly of hope inside of her chest that remained carefully guarded by wires and traps.

It was slowly dying.

Fox recalled all of it. The money she’d made helping those damned scientists get their experiment back under control. The price she paid thanks to Alex’s stupid friend. It had seemed worth it in the moment, the high of adrenaline was intoxicating, and for a moment she forgot her own plights. At the end it all came crashing down again, unavoidable was her reality.

Fox’s throat tightened and she pried her eyes away from the sparkling city. They landed upon someone familiar but also foreign. “Well, I never expected to see someone like you up here.”

“Cut the shit.” James frowned.

“How’d you find me?” Fox mused.

“It wasn’t hard. All I had to do was ask around.” James glowered. “You have one chance to be honest with me or I take you in.”

“Tempting.” Fox rolled her eyes and stood to balance carefully on the rooftop edge.

“You tipped the Wakandans off about Sage.” James crossed his arms and jutted his jaw. “And I know damn well you were the one who figured out how to steal the vibranium. Who did you give it to?”

“I don’t know.” Fox smiled coyly. “I only know as little as possible.”

“That’s a lie.” James’ voice grew gruff with impatience.

“Is it?” Fox never knew more than the necessity. Any additional information was dangerous, making situations like the one at hand, even more deadly. Tattling on clients never ended well.

“What are your clients planning? First Bianca, then vibranium, and lastly Sage.” James tilted his head to study the other girl. She was sly, conniving, difficult, and shifty. “You’ve got some nerve playing so many games at once. I don’t know the grand picture of your scheme-“

“James, James, James...I don’t have a plan. I work for anyone and everyone.” Fox pivoted with ease upon the ledge. James grew nervous with how close she was to the edge of death, the last thing he wanted was to see someone’s broken body on pavement. “I do what I can to survive and there’s nothing more to it.”

“You’re not happy with that.” The red head shook his head. He was thankful his mother instilled her interrogation techniques in him-he could read her if he focused hard enough. “You’re upping your game. You’re getting bolder just like a serial killer does. You’re bored, you’re looking for the next high you can get. But what does a girl like you have to fight against? How in the hell do you have to ‘survive?’ “

“Not everyone has Captain America as their father.” Fox’s lazy, sly smile shifted into a sneer. “I’ve told you that I do what I want when I want. That’s all I know now get the fuck off of my roof.”

“Your roof?” James snorted. “This is the roof of a bar. Two floors. One for drunks and one for whores. You don’t own it.”

For the first time, in the few James had encountered this enigma of a girl, she gave away true emotion. It was vibrant anger in all sorts of fiery colors. “This is my roof. My name is Fox Duran.”

James paled and felt his stomach tighten. “The owners are...the Durans.”

“Glad you figured it out.” It was too fast for James to properly react. One moment he was fine and the next a hard punch rocked against his jaw. “And don’t you ever call any girl a whore you piece of shit. You have no idea what some people go through...”

“Listen, I wasn’t thinking.” James winced and rubbed his face. “I just want to make sense of this! All of this! What’s happening to my friends and my city. My sister is in constant danger because of the decisions you’re making.”

“I don’t care about your sister!” Fox yelled. “I hate her more than I hate you!”

“Why?” James demanded.

“Because she’s exactly like your father. Some charismatic piece of filth who acts like they can fix everything. It’s all a lie! Don’t you get it?” Fox was no longer able to keep the passion from her voice. “Nothing is going to change! No matter how hard any of you fight this world is still going to be a shit hole!”

“That’s not true.” James argued as he stumbled back to his feet.

“Isn’t it?” Fox’s voice drifted into a terrifying quiet. “You’ll let the witch go thinking she’s changed and the moment she gets a chance she’ll tear her uncle apart piece by piece. The girl with the metal arm is only going to remain sane until something triggers her effed up memories and it’ll begin all over again. And if you stop them then someone else is going to fill their place. It’s a never ending cycle.”

“You think you’ve figured out the entire universe?” James snorted. “Sorry honey, that’s not true.”

“You know what? I’m the only one smart enough to figure it out. You wait and see.” There was a challenge in her voice. A fire in her eyes so intense James felt himself wither under the stare. “I see more than any of you do. I know exactly what kind of pain people go through. I know what that does to someone.”

“People always have choices to make. Pain can be turned into a tool.” James finally found his voice. “It’s not an excuse to break laws and hurt other people.”

“Maybe I’m just delivering the justice that needs to be dealt?”

“You don’t get to play God.” James spoke sternly. “And you have yet to answer my questions. Tell me exactly what’s going on!”

An odd smile found it’s way on Fox’s face. It looked almost sad, like hope was firmly crushed for her, like she’d tried to make someone else understand and it hadn’t worked. It occurred to James that maybe she’d had numerous conversations just like this with a dozen other people who had all ignored her.

She backed away slowly. “You want to know what’s happening?”

“Wait...” James made a motion to move as she stepped back onto the edge turning to face him.

“It’s the Rise of the Lost, James.” Fox shook her head. “Everything you know is going to be turned upside down. There aren’t heroes or villains. There’s only people.”

Before he could do anything she stepped backwards and fell. Instinct made him dive to the edge in hope to catch her hand. He only grasped air. With a frantic panic he peered over the edge ready to locate a pulverized body. Instead he saw nothing.

Fox had vanished.

“Damn it!” With an angry huff James rocked back onto his knees and punched at the roof. The sound of feet landing lightly behind him queued his attention.

“No luck?” It was Scout.

“How’d you know I was here?” James questioned.

“I felt your distress.” Scout sighed. “Not to mention the new boy, Orion I believe, said you left in a rush when I asked. You’re conflicted.”

“It’s hard not to be.” James shook his head. Scout rested a comforting hand on James’ shoulder.

“Come on, you need rest.”

“I need answers.” James groaned. He’d promised to dig up information for Siyanda but this was not the information he wanted.

“You have them.” Scout replied patiently. “She gave them to you. She’s right. However, you’re also right.”

“Well Scout, thanks for showing up.” James sighed giving his friend a thankful look as he stood. “Mind giving me a ride home?”

“Anytime.” Scout smiled. “If you need to talk, I am always open to conversation. She’s got a complicated mind from what I can sense. Someone who doesn’t fit anywhere. She’s not good or bad, as you put it, simply human.”

“Thanks Scout.” James gave a final sigh of irritated contentment and allowed Scout to fly him from the roof.