#this is a bit of a heavy fic

[itstimeforstarwars]

Jango told Arla that Rex and Cody were her kids. She doesn't remember them, but then again, she doesn't remember a lot of things these days.

She's trying to include them in her life anyway.

(Inspired by the Galidraan AU)

[ky-landfill]

[zarla-s]

I imagine that with the Medigun healing wounds like, instantly, that Medic cleaning and dressing a wound by hand would be a unique experience. Kind of nice in its own way! Depending on the circumstances.

(from a fic i wrote with them going from casual sex to an actual relationship, be warned it is 18+ though)

[patreon]

[schneiderenjoyer]

A few of the many fic WIPs I have in the back log excluding TWTR and TATA. Yes, I draw my ideas first before writing them down, haha

[ghouljams]

currently Terminally In Love with your fae!Simon au, and it has resulted in some ✨Thoughts✨

so, the bond that’s between Simon and reader — we’ve seen how it functions as a kind of honing beacon that allows Simon to know if reader is being fucked with by any other fae who dare to touch what he’s laid claim to… but from what I could discern the mark reacted so violently and allowed him to come to reader’s rescue solely because it was reacting to foreign fae magic… does it work the same for physical, nonmagical harm?

(and further, asking for the girlies…. what would Simon feel through the bond if the reader were to die 😚)

So glad you asked because it means I get to do some horror stuff. The short answer is Ghost's mark doesn't react the same way to human danger, it just pings Ghost to let him know there's trouble. The long answer is, the mark is stupid and will lash out at anything that is scaring MC, which sometimes includes Simon. Most of the time it just functions as an alarm system, but there's an adjustment period when Simon sort of has to train it on who it's ok to bite.

You've been followed since you got off the train. He's not even being stealthy about it. You make a turn, he turns, you stop, he stops, always a few steps behind you. No one else seems to notice or care. You look over your shoulder and see the same crewneck, the same beady eyes. His lips curve red into a smile when he knows you spot him. Your chest is tight, you try not to look at him. You thought you were past this, always looking over your shoulder isn't a good look. Then again neither is being dead. Better to be paranoid and alive.

It's getting dark. You don't live that far from the station, at least you didn't think you did. Maybe it's fear making the street feel longer, emptier. You pick up the pace, hearing the sentiment echoed behind you. The thud of footsteps getting progressively louder and closer, until you're forced to sprint. The effort is wasted immediately as you're grabbed and dragged into the nearest alley. Your chest squeezes with fear, your heart pounding in your ears as you're thrown against the brick wall. The buzz under your skin expands and contracts with your breaths, trying to do anything but calm you down. You think it might actually be driving your anxiety higher, towards a full blown panic, as the man grips your arms tight and grins down at you. 

"Don't you know it's dangerous for little girls to wander alone at night?" He asks, he's close enough you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Your skin hurts where he touches you, bubbling with something you can't put a name to. The buzzing doesn't fit right, it slams against your ribs as you draw in shuddering breaths, there’s nothing for it to latch onto. You glance towards the mouth of the alley, the street was so empty, who would see you? This isn't right, he told you you'd be safe-

Something wet hits your face. The buzzing under your skin is reaching a fever, shaking you to your bones. You look up at the man, at the thick red and black mud falling from between his lips. He gives a wet cough. Your eyes drag to the black talons protruding from his chest, a hole punched through his ribs as if it were paper. The ribs themselves are warped outward and folded back away from the intrusion, more like wire than bone. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight, from the slick clawed hand dragging its way backwards through the viscera as you feel your buzzing start to move.

The silhouette that the collapse of your aggressor reveals is abyssal. Absorbing the shadows of the rest of the alley in a way you've never seen before. The air around it swirls with them. It's holding the man's heart in one clawed hand, tipping it's head back to swallow the organ whole. You are pretty sure you're having a panic attack. The abyss moves towards you like a ghost, and the buzz under your skin takes hold and forces you to MOVE.

The nose your fist collides with is startlingly human.

"You little bitch," Ghost snarls, making a grab for you as you sprint from the alley. Your feet slide against the sidewalk as you round the corner. The buzz under your skin rears back and strikes as his claws just miss you. "Not me you stupid-" he swears, you think he swears, you don't understand it but the buzz cowers. 

You don't stop. Not even when you pass the door to your flat. You run because you can hear him running after you, can hear the scratch of his claws on brick and concrete as he tries to grab you. The gouges that he leaves in everything he touches, you don’t need to imagine what he could do to you, you saw it. You catch a glimpse of him as you turn a corner, his teeth are bared, his movements wild and animalistic. 

His claws wrap around your throat, and you’re slammed into a wall for the second time tonight. He’s huge when he presses against your back, his chest expanding around his labored breathing in tandem with yours. You try to turn your head to look at him and he yanks your head back to stare at the stars. You both breathe, the night filled with the sound of your desperation. You swing your arm behind you to try and hit him, anything to make yourself more difficult prey. He catches your wrist easily and twists it behind your back, growling in your ear as he leans his weight on you.

“Not Me,” He tells you, it thrums through you like a universal truth, the buzz under your skin going warm and shivery, “You don't run from me. Not unless I tell you.” You nod, desperate to do something to ease your situation. “Good girl.”

His hand slides through your hair, fingers pressing to your forehead, and it all goes black.

You jolt awake shaking like a leaf. You press a hand to your mouth, choking down a sob. You’re terrified, it’s too dark in here, your skin feels like it’s been scrubbed raw, you feel like you’ve run a marathon. It must have been a nightmare, it must have been.

Simon turns on the light by the bed, woken up by your movements. “What’s wrong?” He asks, still half asleep. You shake your head, trying to get the shaking to stop. You feel like your body is trying to rip itself apart. Simon reaches a hand towards you and you jerk away, falling in a heap off the edge of the bed. You scurry away from him, you need distance, you need to get away from him. From the nightmare. Your back hits the wall as Simon stands. 

“What did I say?” His eyes tear holes through you, you press against the wall trying to make yourself small as he stalks towards you, “Not. Me.”

[janjan-the-ninth]

To fanfiction authors: Please learn what Dead Dove means. There has been a trend, especially will all the new people who have joined over the last few years, to tag fics which are no where close to Dead Dove as Dead Dove. Just cause the fic contains topics which aren't allowed on tiktok or which they think are bad, like Major Character Death, Violence and so one. Which exists as seperate warnings on ao3. A fic is not automatically Dead Dove just cause it deals with those topics.

The overuse of the Dead Dove tag will make the tag utterly useless in the long run and will lead to an increase of censoring from the outside as new people and everyone else will think that everything they do not like is Dead Dove and therefore bad.

[4lph4kidz]

i was thinking about your dirk and hal poll and i want to mention that i think your concept for ink and iron where dirk creates hal from his reflection by enchanting a mirror is so cool 😌

thank you! hal's predicament and purpose within the canon narrative is so fascinating and i felt it was really important to find a way to explore what i find most interesting with him. i can't take full credit for the concept though i took inspiration from a few placees (one of my friends pitched the idea of the mirror accidentally dumping him onto jake's doorstop for example) but overall i think the idea is very fun and i'm really excited to write more hal stuff!!! also i'm going to take the opportunity to share this oldish doodle i found:

the mispelling of angel as angle was NOT intentional (<- dyslexia haver) but it probably explains a lot. he's pointy

[lunarharp]

things.. uh... Gentry era au

[mosstrades]

Oh wait this is fucked up actually. Marcy grew up around Simon while he was actually already under the effects of the crown (both physically and mentally). He was already unraveling by the time they found each other, even if he still felt like he was 'himself', so Simon as we know him, regular-ass Simon, would be in ways a kind of stranger to her. Physically, in his appearance and presence decoupled from the effects of the crown; situationally, what with them not being in a barren wasteland and whatnot; emotionally and personally, with Simon maybe doing things or showing himself to be things that Marcy didn't know to expect. And add to that how much they've both changed over the course of their lives since they separated...

While Simon managed to see her life through Ice King's eyes for a while, I like to imagine the memory is fuzzy at best and entirely unreliable at worst, so — in a way, truly, their reunion is them getting to know each other all over again, in a new dynamic, but with the base of that same old, foundational relationship; that same old, old love.

And I'm so normal about it.

[jakes3resin]

So I'm watching episode 1 of MOTA again, and all I can think about is what if Bucky wasn't there when the boys land. What if he crashed on one of the missions he was a tag along? What if Buck landed in England and didn't see his John there waiting for him?

Just imagine you're the other crews and personnel at the base. You've just had a new arrival of boys ready to run missions while you're still recovering from the last one that saw more planes leave than came back. How do you respond when one of the newly arrived Majors asks where Major Egan is? How do you say sorry sir but he went down yesterday without sounding callous? How do you react when that Major nearly falls to his knees in front of you?

What do you do when your worst nightmare comes to pass? What do you feel when you let half of your soul slip away like a thief in the night?

How do you breathe when it's your fault?

John's not there when Buck steps onto English soil.

Something's wrong, a sharp voice whispers into his ear. Something's changed. Find him.

There's no one to ask.

The ground crews run to secure their plane, running diagnostics and checking what they have to work with. A lieutenant directs them to a truck, saying they'll be taken to their assigned quarters.

There's no time to stop and ask. No one will stop and let him ask at least. They're dropped at their assigned huts and barely given enough time to drop their stuff off before they're shuffled off again.

Meeting after meeting keeps them busy. Huglin introduces himself and leaves just as quickly. A British Colonel steps up to welcome them. Apparently, they need to be welcomed by every higher up this base has before they can lay down or eat. Every higher up except the Air Exec.

Buck tries to ask, but no one stops long enough to answer him. Apparently, they're planning the next bombing mission already, and all hands are on deck.

Buck wonders if that's where John is.

They're sent back to their huts and told dinner gets served at exactly 6 o'clock sharp. The rest of the evening is their's as they're not on rotation just yet. Buck leads the boys in.

"Are you Major Cleven, sir?"

Buck turns and finds a short curly haired boy staring at him. Kid barely looks eighteen, but there's a tired look to him that doesn't match. He's dressed in the typical ground crew's overalls holding a bike steady in each hand. There's a stripe of grease across his cheek.

"Depends whose asking," Buck waves the other boys into the building. They're all exhausted and should get some rest before dinner. They trail past, grumbling about meetings after being stuck in a Fort all day. All of them staring between Buck, the mechanic, and the bikes.

"Sergeant Ken Lemmons, sir," The now named boy smiles at him, cherubic and sweet. "I'd shake your hand, but I need them to keep these steady you see."

"Nice to meet you." Buck nods staring down at the bikes. "How can I help you?"

Ken pauses, eyes wide and full of some emotion Buck can't place. He doesn't like it.

"Well, I," Ken bites his lip and drops his gaze. "I thought I'd deliver these to you. For Major Egan, sir."

"John sent you?"

Relief flows through him. John's fine. He's just running late or stuck somewhere, and he sent someone to make sure Buck didn't feel forgotten. He'd roll up soon with a bright smile to talk Buck's ear off about what idiotic, mind-numbing task kept him from Buck's side. Life could finally get back to normal with them.

Ken shakes his head. Buck tilts his.

"John didn't send you?"

"No sir." Ken stares up at Buck. "He was just so excited to give you these that it didn't feel right not getting them to you somehow. Can't get anywhere on base without one, and he won them for you."

"Right," Buck glanced down at the bikes, confusion growing. "Would you mind telling me where Major Egan is, if he didn't send you?"

"No one's told you."

It's not a question. Not with that level of devastation attached. Ken's eyes look destroyed, startlingly so. Heart jumping, Buck nearly growls.

"Tell me what, Sergeant?"

"Major Egan didn't come back from a mission yesterday. He, well, uh, he crashed, sir."

The earth drops out from underneath him. He's freefalling.

Buck tries to breathe. He'd told John not to die on him before he got over here, but it'd been light-hearted. He never truly thought John would die, never allowed himself to think it for fearing of jinxing John.

I told you, the voice from before whispers. You didn't notice.

He knew something was wrong when John didn't meet them on the runway. He should have known then. John had been so excited to see him, had talked about all of the things they'd do together once Buck flew over. Nothing would have kept him from seeing Buck.

"Where?" Buck manages out. He needs to know. Needs to know so that he can think. He needs facts and data, something logical. So that his brain will work. His heart feels slashed open from just that word. Betrayed by his brain, his heart rebels even thinking those words to be true.

"Sorry sir, there's no record of where his plane went down."

No record? How could there be no record? That was the navigator's job! How could they not know where John went down? How could they not see it?

Worse, how could Buck not feel it? How did he go about his day yesterday unaware that the other half of his soul was gone? Fell from the sky, and Buck didn't do a damn thing! Had lived through that moment none the wiser! He'd hadn't even paused.

"Buck?" Benny's voice breaks through his downward spiral, and Buck has to push through it. Has to swallow his grief and hold back his tears because he has men to take care of. He has a job to do.

"Sorry boys," Buck turns around face now carefully wiped blank. Benny watches him, and the rest of the crew gathers round the doorway watching. They look worried. Some of them glance behind him at Ken. The one man who'd finally answered Buck. The one man Buck never wanted to see again.

John's dead.

Buck knows he has to say the words, has to tell them what's going on, and then he has to find the other crews and tell them because that's his job. He has to find Curt and Jack. A laundry list of people who need to know. Then he has to write John's mother and sisters. That's his punishment now. He let Bucky fly alone. He has to do this. He has to say the words. But he can't. Because once he says them, it's real. John's gone, and Buck spoke it into the universe. Buck made it true.

"Bit of a hold up on our welcoming committee?" Benny asks. Buck can hear the question he's really asking. Where's Bucky? All of the waiting faces scream it at him.

I don't know! He wants to scream. He's gone! Gone where I can't follow when he promised not to!

"Yeah," Buck says, voice soft. "You could say that."

He clears his throat.

"The sergeant here..."

Fuck, Buck's a coward. The words eat at his insides, gnawing at his heart, but he can't say them. Can't get them up his throat and out his mouth.

"I've got to head in, more debriefs." Buck's heart races. The faces around him nod in understanding. "I'll find you boys after."

The men fall out talking amongst themselves as they head back to their bunks, but Benny stays. Buck tries to breathe. Ken stands silently next to him still holding on to those damned bikes.

"Where's Bucky?" Benny asks before Buck can escape. Buck clenches his jaw. Benny's eyebrow ticks up.

"Something happen?" Meatball runs up to them, panting and happy to see Buck. John will never get to meet him.

"You could say that." Buck manages. He reaches down to run a hand over Meatball's head. John had loved it when Buck played with his hair. The dog bounces around, playfully nipping at Buck's hand.

"What else could I say about it?"

"There was a mission." Buck starts. Tries to speak but shuts his mouth a few times. Benny stares at him. Ken shuffles behind him.

"John," Gale pauses. "Bucky didn't make it back."

"Shit," Benny curses, and Gale stares down at Meatball. His hand rests just behind his ears. The dog tilts his head at him, wondering why he stopped. Bucky used to do that too, whenever he wanted Gale to do something with him.

"Where'd he go down?"

"No record."

"Shit," Benny breathes out. Gale bites his tongue.

"Sir, I really am sorry." Ken's voice is soft. "I thought everyone knew to tell you. They were supposed to tell you."

But they didn't! Gale wants to scream. They didn't, and now I'm alone!

"Thanks for telling us, you can leave those there." Benny says gesturing to the bikes.

"Yes, sir."

Ken slowly turns away with another quiet apology that Gale doesn't acknowledge.

Rage boils up within him. Rage at Ken for telling him. Rage at the crew for allowing Bucky onto their doomed mission. Rage at the Germans for starting the stupid fucking war. Rage at every person who had a hand in taking Bucky away.

Rage at Bucky for leaving him.

It feels hollow to be so angry at Bucky. It's not his fault, but Gale is angry at him. They were a pair, Bucky had made sure of that the day he named Gale.

He's alone now.

He doesn't know how to do it. It's been torture these past few weeks with Bucky in England. The only thing that had gotten him to today was knowing the separation was temporary. How was he supposed to last the rest of his life?

"I'll tell the others," Gale turned to Benny. "Would you mind telling the boys in there?"

"Sure, Buck," Benny nods, staring at him. Gale knows the other won't turn away until Gale leaves, so he does. He has to. He has to turn away and start moving. Because if he lets himself stop now, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to move out of that rage. He'll sink into it, and that's not who he wants to be. That's not the man Bucky loved. He need to keep going. For Bucky.

Gale heads out. He walks without any place in mind. He doesn't know where Curt or Jack are quartered, doesn't even know who he could ask. He simply walks through the base.

A crowd draws his eye, and despite himself, Gale wanders towards it.

Men rush into a hut not to dissimilar to the one Gale had just walked away from. A few of them hold clipboards calling out names, and as Gale watches, trunks matching those names get carried out.

"Excuse me? Are you assigned to these barracks?" A private walks up to him, clipboard clasped to his chest.

"Pardon?" Gale walks closer. He scans the rows and rows out trunks as they're loaded onto a truck.

"Are these your quarters, Major...?

"Major Gale Cleven. No. What are these?" Gale runs his hand along the nearest trunk.

"Trunks to be sent home, sir." One of the privates turns to him. "We have to move them out so the new arrivals can move in."

That's why they were stuck in useless meetings all afternoon, Gale suddenly realizes. They'd had to move the missing men's belongings out. The knowledge makes him ill.

"Where do you take them?" Stomach rolling as he asks, Gale projects an air of stoic calm.

"Down there," The private points down the road. "It's another empty bunkhouse, but it's better than storing them in the open sir."

"Right," Gale murmurs, mind already racing. "Back to it boys."

Gale walks, purposeful this time, down the road. If all of the trunks were being moved now, maybe... maybe Bucky's was there. It wouldn't be much, wouldn't be him, but it'd be enough, just enough to get him through today.

No one stops Gale as he walks into the bunkhouse. In fact most of the boys avoid his gaze as if he were a ghost walking among them. Which maybe he's as close a man can get. Half his soul is gone. Doesn't that make a man a ghost? Can't he qualify?

Bucky's trunk is tucked in a back corner. His must have been one of the first to be cleared out.

Gale kneels beside. He'd never been too religious, but this feels near enough to a church that Gale barely dares to breathe.

The trunks sits there bathed in the late afternoon light streaming through the windows. Gale reaches out his hand. The metal is cold to the touch. The paint spelling out Bucky's name is a soft white. There's a scratch across the top, and scuff marks along the bottom. Gale traces those. They're signs of life. Signs that Bucky once lived and breathed dragging this trunk along behind him.

Gale can't open the trunk. He thought he could, thought it'd help him, but he was wrong. This is worse. Sitting here in this graveyard of lost men, Gale feels tears burning at his eyes that he can't hold back anymore.

His John is gone. Bucky is dead, and all that's left is this trunk. This trunk and Gale.

"Can't believe you boys moved my fucking trunk! Talk about burying a man before he's dead!"

Gale's heart stops, and he turns tears trailing down his cheek. Barely daring to hope, he stares at the entrance.

"Sir, we were informed that we needed to move these trunks. Our apologies for not double-checking!"

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, any of you guys hear if the 100th flew in yet?"

Gale scarcely dares to breathe.

"Yes, sir! They flew in three hours ago."

The voices grow closer. Gale turns, still on his knees next to Bucky's trunk. Any second they'll walk in. Any second Gale's hopes will be dashed, and he'll return to a world where his John, the boys' Bucky is dead. He'll remain a Gale with no one else's name attached to him.

Any second.

The moment passes. The door opens. Light bleeds into the room, and Buck hadn't known how dark it had been before then.

[jamiesfootball]

Fic updates for the post-season 3 fic

I’ve somehow stumbled over the 50k words mark 🎉🎉🎉

Dani, who was previously Sir-Not-Appearing-in-This-Fic, somehow wormed his way in and is now appearing in this fic. And somehow this didn’t even dent my outline - he slotted right in like magic. Dani Rojas is life, but he is also magic

I just think it’s criminal that him and Jamie never got to cuddle so I will be fixing that thanks

Why is Nigerian food so hard to research?

Roy is doing both awful and great at therapy, which is definitely not a race

Isaac, Isaac, Isaac. You are a pillar a rock a man of great talents and mystery and I am just loving peeling your layers.

Colin Hughes really is just some guy, huh? (Crying about it)

No really, why is Nigerian food so hard to research

My toxic trait is that I cannot resist putting Jamie Tartt in little outfits. Yes he is depressed and in a self destructive spiral. But also *waves hands* outfits.

Sam Obisanya has a nemesis; former bully surprised and outraged to learn about it, thought he was the only one who was that big of a dick

Me @ Nigerian food blogs - please show me the forbidden spice blends and quit making my browser cry in JavaScript

Jamie’s outfits are plot relevant, actually

On a related note- Fuck James Tartt

Keeley Jones please stop stealing every scene challenge. you are cute as a button and you are going through some stuff but we have an outline to stick to and every time you show up the word count explodes

Except the one scene????? I need you to talk a lot for????? Girl istg

I know y’all like dog metaphors, but do you like them in a non-sexy way? Because i got a lot of that (this is shameless abuse of the making the team mascot into a metaphor ngl. Also that ‘How to be a dog’ poem really fucked me up)

Do I need to spend so much time looking up recipes? No. Am i going to? Yes. I find it very fun, and this entire fic is a shameless exercise of self-indulgence and gooey feelings and found family (and depression and self esteem issues and abuse and finally talking shit out) and I hope it’ll be worth it in the end

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

men who show their love instead of saying it out loud but their love is so heavy you can practically hear it anyways>>>>>>>>>

[zarla-s]

regrets are for the weak, heavy

[patreon]

[jackshiccup]

its literally 4am but i just read against the wind by underpassgraffiti and feeling more upset than ever about hiccup and snotlout which . perfect truly just what i wanted before i went to bed

[therizino-ao3]

2023 Halloween Gift Exchange

My gift for @greenscreen-dress for @mcyt-halloween !

Summary: xB is invited back to his home server for a ceremony. Joe and Cleo come along to make things more bearable.

“Ohh, son of a…”

“What is it, man?” says Cub, sliding over to xB to see what he’s reading on his communicator.

“It’s just a family thing, kind of annoying though,” he scrolls through the message, taking in the details. Cub glances at it, but looks away as soon as he realises this isn’t something he’ll understand.

“What sort of family thing?” Gem asks, from across the Decked Out hallway, where she and Cleo are doing… something. xB doesn’t know what it is, but it involves wooden swords and their decks on the floor and an armour stand that he thinks is supposed to be Tango? They used a blue bath-towel instead of a robe.

“Guardian coming of age ritual, involving one of my cousins,” he sighs, flicking his tail back and forth, “The point is I’ll have to go back to my family’s server and meet everyone and it’s going to be a whole Thing.”

“I mean, xB, if you don’t want to do it, just don’t go? If you don’t like your biological family, you shouldn’t feel obligated to visit them,” Cleo says, messing with the Tango armour stand as they speak.

“I like some of my family. Not all of them are bad. But yeah it’s, mm,” he purses his lips together, thinking of what to say, “I do want to stay in contact, but as long as I do that, they’ll expect me to go to coming of age rituals. And it isn’t that bad on it’s own but some of them are just very… traditional. And judgemental. But, it isn’t the end of the world? It’s just… a Thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that. The Vex sometimes can sometimes be, uh, very overbearing,” Cub says, from his spot, crammed into an indent in the wall.

 “Hm, yeah,” Cleo pauses, either pondering what she should say or whether she should stab the Tango armour stand, “Maybe, if you want, one of us could come with you? Just to make the whole thing more bearable. I wouldn’t mind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guardian city in-person before.”

“Yeah, that actually sounds like a good idea,” Cleo’s presence is calming - in a no-nonsense, sarcastic way. The only time he’s ever brought someone with him to his home server was Keralis, ages ago on a holiday, which looking back on, was a horrible decision. Cleo, however, he thinks is far more mature than Keralis, and will only steal people’s possessions if necessary, “I mean, will you be free this Saturday afternoon?”

She smiles.

World hopping has developed a lot over the past century, which is nice. xB remembers when a trip across a galaxy would take a few weeks, but now, it’s only a few hours. It’s incredibly convenient since, in true hermit fashion, they always choose very distant planets for their worlds. His ship’s on autopilot and the estimated arrival time is two hours, fifteen minutes. He can chill. He watches the little map on the GUI, the ship zooming past various named star systems. His passengers, behind him, are also chilling. Passengers, plural, because Cleo wanted to drag Joe along too. Which, wasn’t the plan, but xB couldn’t say he was too surprised when Cleo and Joe both showed up to his ship. Like, you can’t get one without the other. They’re sold as a pair. He hears them arguing, something about the difference between a gravestone and a cenotaph. Cleo says they’ll break Joe’s legs. Joe starts talking faster, pleading for his life.

At the very least, xB’s home world is beautiful. As they approach it at last, it turns from a perfect blue circle to a painter’s dream – miles and miles of beaches and sea. There’s no considerable landmass on it greater than a few square miles, and all that’s on those are ship docks and tourism centres, everything else is in the water. He parks, opens the doors, and breathes in the salty sea air. It burns his nose, but in a refreshing and nostalgic way.

“We’re here! In case you haven’t noticed,” he says, but he knows they have, especially since Joe has spent the last twenty minutes trying to take pictures of the planet through the tiny windows.

“Oh wow,” Cleo steps out, “I will say, in terms of places to visit, this certainly isn’t the worst for looks.”

Joe steps out after, running out a bit further to take pictures of the sea. xB giggles, “Now the question is, will your opinion change when you meet the family.”

“Oh gods yeah, that’s gonna be, uh,” she laughs and shakes her head, “Well, we’ll be here for you, xB. And on that note, what is our story going to be?”

“Our story?”

“Yeah, like, why we’re here with you. Are we just saying we’re friends coming along because we wanted to visit?” Cleo pauses, before gasping, “Oh! I could pretend to be your annoying girlfriend! That would be fun.”

“Hey now, if you’re xB’s partner, what would that make me?”

“Oh Joe, you can be with xB too. I’m sure we can share him,” she ruffles Joe’s hair, “I mean, if you’re alright with that, xB.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” he’s laughing, “That does sound interesting.”

Whilst Cleo and Joe are arguing about the details of their very real relationship with xB, he is busy sorting out actually important things, like how Cleo and Joe are going to get to the monument. Every urban area has conduit-powered water, but for such a deep and lengthy swim, they’re still going to need equipment. He’s packed hour-lasting water breathing and resistance potions, to reduce any issues with suffocation and pressure; specialist helmets with goggles for seeing in dark environments, enchanted with aqua-infinity, and with built-in translation software so they can both understand and speak water-tongue; and flip-flops enchanted with depth strider for easy movement. It takes a further ten minutes for xB to get them to properly equip the stuff and acclimatise to breathing in the water. Then, they’re ready to go.

xB leads them down, following the currents to the monument. It’s mainly a smell thing, because the monument is the most populated thing in this area of the ocean, and you can definitely tell, but he also knows the way off by heart.

“Alright, just checking you can hear me alright?” he asks in water-tongue – a deep, chittering language that works solely for water – now they’re a decent bit down it’s worth checking Joe and Cleo actually know what’s going on.

Cleo gives a thumbs up, whilst Joe responds, “Loud and clear!” through the robotic voice from the helmet. It sounds a little crunchy. xB wonders if that’s it struggling to translate Joe’s accent.

They keep swimming down, until the monument leers in front of them. It’s far more impressive than the ones inhabited by regular guardians, with this one being twice the size with twice the colours and covered in flickering neon lights. He feels Joe and Cleo stop, presumably looking on in wonder. He supposes it’s pretty impressive if it’s your first time seeing one, but given he’s spent too many years living there, and has seen some five times more impressive in bigger cities, it’s just a regular building to him. They start swimming again, xB careful to keep the three of them in the “incoming” current. Small settlements and businesses rest on the seafloor below them, branching out around the monument, but most people will be living inside it.

They take the top entrance, xB telling the guards they’re here for tessC Crafted’s ceremony and the three of them are let in without trouble.

“The guards are more for display, than anything,” he says to Joe and Cleo once they’re inside the monument and alone in the winding corridors, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them refuse anyone in, they just deter criminals by being there.”

“Right,” Cleo says, glancing around, “Good to know! I’ll just be staying right by you, so I don’t get lost, because this place is an absolute maze.”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah,” he laughs, “There’s no structure, you just learn where everything is by living here.”

“So where are we going now?” Joe asks.

“The main hall, it’s got like, a big platform in the centre and a bunch of seats,” he takes a sudden left turn, making Joe and Cleo quickly swerve after him, “You just kind of wander around and talk to people, and then everyone sits down, and the ceremony begins.”

“So, it’s like a wedding?” Cleo says, slight uncertainty in her voice.

“Um, I guess?” xB says, about to elaborate further, before the hallway opens up into a massive chamber. Several rows of flat seats wrap in a horseshoe shape around a long walkway, raised several metres above the seats nearest, leading into the back of the wall where there’s a door for the ceremony participants to emerge.

The noise is the most prominent thing, chittering bouncing off the walls and coming back in an incoherent blabble. He imagines Joe and Cleo won’t even be hearing this, it’s so indecipherable the software won’t bother to translate it. It’s no surprise it’s so loud, with hundreds of people in here. Technically, its only mandatory that the family of the person involved come, but everyone living nearby tends to, both as an act of community support and because free food is served throughout. Since xB is family, they’ll be right at the front on the bottom seats. He leads his friends down there, picking out a free-ish spot for them. With less people being at the bottom of the hall, it’s easier to hear things.

“Why, xB, you came,” a voice booms from behind him, belonging to none other than his biological mother. Great.

“Uh, hello. Joe, Cleo, this is my mother, beK Crafted,” he grabs his friends’ arms, making sure they’re here for this conversation, “And, mother,” he pauses for a second, wondering if he really wants to go this route, before remembering he has no fucks to give, “This is my girlfriend Cleo, and her partner Joe.”

“Oh, don’t be so humble, my Angel Pie xB! Joe is your boyfriend too!” for good measure, she even ruffles his hair as they say it, and it takes everything he has in him to not burst out laughing. She turns to his mother, holding out her hand, “Hi! I’m Cleo! I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Right,” his mother tentatively shakes Cleo’s hand, looking down on it like she might catch a disease. This is going far better than xB ever imagined.

“I – on the other hand – have heard nothing about you! xB has never mentioned you to me! This is a wonderful night to meet!” Joe says, grabbing his mother’s other hand to shake at the same time. He’s doing it far too fast, jerking her arm up and down.

His mother wrinkles her nose and steps back, flicking the hands off her, “Right. It’s good that you’re here and that you’ve-” she does nothing to hide the disappointment in her tone, “Brought some other people around. Make sure to introduce yourself to everybody, I’m sure your uncle rK would love to see you.”

His mother quickly swims away, to nearly the other side of the hall.

Cleo turns to him, “Was that a success?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Usually she goes on super long rants to me, or brings up about when I’ll be having grandkids, so it’s nice to have skipped all that.”

“Oh geez, are you sure you want to come to these things?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t take any of it to heart, it’s just annoying,” they both nod, but still look rather unconvinced.

They continue talking to xB’s other family members, in a way that has made this kind of thing far more enjoyable than it has been in a long time, with everyone reacting to Cleo’s ridiculous pet names with either obvious distress or approval, some even finding her charming, somehow. It’s nice to be able to catch up with his more reasonable family members, and anyone annoying Joe scares off with his passionate talks of eighteenth-century poetry. They have a good time.

The lights begin to dim and xB ushers Joe and Cleo to sit. Whilst the rest of the chamber grows dark, the walkway lights up and the door slides open. Stumbling and shambling, xB’s cousin emerges and makes the harrowing walk to the end of the platform. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was sick: desaturated skin, tattered fins, and dead eyes. It’s obvious she’s just about to undergo metamorphosis though, with her juvenile external fins fluttering in the water.

She collapses as soon as she reaches the spot, body completely relaxing until she looks like a ragdoll. Some soft tearing sounds echo through the water.

“What’s going on?” Cleo whispers to him.

“She’s about to grow into her new body,” he says,” Just… watch.”

Cleo turns back to tessC, transfixed. At her back, a new, pale growth emerges from the ripped skin. It grows and grows, until it becomes evident it is, in fact, her back, and her arms and legs come with it too. She’s covered in spines and the tail that forces itself out of the body is far longer than it once was. Eventually, her head frees itself too, and there are no signs of the external fins anymore. She pushes herself onto her feet and makes a noise, somewhat like a growl, triumphant over her old body. Her limbs still look so wobbly and crooked and her tail hasn’t quite filled itself out yet, it’ll take a few hours for her new self to settle into shape.

“Oh wow,” Joe murmurs, “I didn’t know guardians did that.”

“Yeah, metamorphosis into adult form,” xB says, looking around for the elders, “I remember mine. It really hurt. They’ll just need to choose the sacrifice and then we should be done.”

“Hold on, sacrifice?” Cleo whips her head around.

“Yeah? After someone sheds their skin, another person is chosen for them to test their claws on. Like, they don’t die, most of the time, but it is pretty brutal.”

“That, feels like something you should have mentioned before coming here? Some guy just gets ripped to shreds every time this happens?”

“I- Oh yeah. It completely slipped my mind. Um, if it makes you feel better, you won’t get picked? They won’t have your name down, it’ll just be me. And in all my years, I’ve never been picked, it’s really unlikely.”

The elders, on a balcony looking over everything, read out from a piece of paper, “This year’s sacrifice shall be… xB Crafted!”

Joe hums, “Wow, way to jinx things!”

Cleo grabs his arm, “Yeah, no way am I letting you get hurt because of these idiots, come on!” she tugs him upward, kicking as much as she can.

xB doesn’t falter, the survivalist in him knowing he has to escape now if he wants a chance. He snatches Joe’s hand and starts swimming, thrashing his tail as hard as he can. He can feel the water ripple around him, others trying to catch up to them and catch them, you weren’t really supposed to try and escape, and all. He couldn’t bring his usual guns, being under the water and all, but he does have a rather nice harpoon gun, however, he doesn’t really want to attack his family members and former friends unless he has to. Cleo, on the other hand, managed to smuggle in her sword and doesn’t hold back swinging at people in her way. They escape the great hall, diving into the corridors, and xB takes special care to not let go of Joe or Cleo as he takes twisting routes to cover their tail. They zoom out a small, unguarded exit xB discovered himself many years ago, near the bottom of the monument. He doesn’t dare slow their pace, charging through the water, practically carrying a panting Joe and Cleo, until they reach the island they landed on.

“We’re out,” he says, flopping onto the surface, “Don’t bother to take your stuff off now, just hop in and I’ll take off. They’ll give up pursuit once we leave the surface.”

They both nod in response and xB hops inside, fiddling with the controls and inputting the co-ordinates of their Season 8 planet. Thankfully, they take off with no issues.

“xB,” Joe says as soon as he’s got his helmet off, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… fine.”

“Really?” Joe tries to raise an eyebrow, but he can’t, so he just makes a weird face.

“Yeah, well, a little sad,” he admits, “I definitely won’t be able to return now. I mean, I know it’s probably for the best? But, like, there’s still that feeling that I’ve lost something, y’know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Joe isn’t following the correct safety protocols for space travel, instead opting to stand behind xB and rest his hand on his shoulder.

“Just remember that we’ll always be here for you, alright?” Cleo says and the thought does cheer him up, because they’re right. He’ll give himself a little time to grieve, but really, there isn’t anything those stuck-up guardian folk could’ve given him that his friends can’t. He probably had more fun today, because of Joe and Cleo, than he has had in every other family gathering combined. He hears Joe recount some lines from a classic and Cleo groans, and, well, maybe it isn’t beautiful blue planet with gorgeous underwater cities, but it still makes him pretty happy.

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

So, I've heard some voices here and there lamenting how little Gabe content - especially new Gabe content - there was and you know what? I completely agree, so I thought why not, I can try to add my little droplet into this tiny sea of Gabe appreciation we have here on tumblr.

Summary: Elena visits Gabe in his house for the first time and learns something new about his past.

Word count: 1937

AN: just some friendly fluff really, headcanon heavy, from Elena's POV but Gabe centric

"Oh, watch out, the first step is-" Gabe turned around just in time to catch Elena when she started to fall backwards. "-loose."

"Thanks for the warning." Elena shot him a glare when she regained her balance. In response Gabe only sent her an unapologetic grin and pulled her up on the next step.

"Everyone's so used to it by now that we keep forgetting to fix it with my dad," he explained as they finally reached the first floor.

The stairs led to a narrow corridor, with the same room placement as the bakery beneath it. Two doors on the right, one on the left and a wide opening to the living room at the end. In a few brisk steps Gabe opened the door on the left and invited Elena in with a courteous gesture.

"Welcome to my humble abode, your highness."

Her highness graced him with a nod and slipped by him, into the small room. Elena gave it a quick one over. It was indeed small - in fact, there probably wasn't much more space than what each guard got at the barracks - and the decor wasn't much fancier either. Cream colored walls, a thin bed by the window, a wardrobe opposite of it, one wall taken up by a bookshelf and a small cabinet by another made up basically all the furnishing of the room.

"Humble is a good word." She nodded solemnly, earning herself an eye roll from her friend. They both chuckled.

"Hey, it's your room that's out of the norm, you know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Elena retorted, thinking about how three or even four such rooms would fit into hers. She walked over to the cabinet and picked up some trinket. "But it's nice to finally see where you grew up."

Gabe couldn't stop a fond smile sneaking onto his lips when he noticed the badge she was examining.

"Yeah and I didn't really get to change much here in the past five years. For example this thing I got back when-"

"Gabriel!" He was interrupted by his mother's voice from the bakery.

"I'll tell you in a moment," he sighed. "Make yourself at home!" He added from the doors and quickly ran downstairs to his parents.

Elena took another look around the room. It wasn't entirely empty, she had to admit that, and the poster of Antonio Agama on the inner side of the door confirmed that Gabe didn't change the decor much since he moved out.

She moved to the bookshelf and moved her hand across the titles - though there weren't that many of them to count. The lower shelves were taken up by some boxes and bags and what could've been a neatly packaged tent. Then finally a whole shelf dedicated to the whole collection of Antonio Agama's books. Elena chuckled to herself when she read some of the more dramatic titles and noticed even one that wasn't in Avaloran. On the next shelf, between other various travel books and biographies, was only one book by señor Agama, titled simply 'The Gecko's Tale'. Driven by a hunch she took it out and couldn't help but laugh when she read the blurb on the back. Although that explained how the whole kingdom found out that she's a bit adventurous too.

Finally her gaze got to the plant on top of the mantle. Hidden so deep in the room, it extended its ivy like stalks towards the sun, climbing a string helpfully hung between the bookshelf and the window.

Down on the windowsill two other plants looked out on the little cobbled square behind the house. Elena leaned in to smell the orchid and noticed something half hidden behind the pot. Slowly, so as not to accidentally damage the plant, she reached for trinket and retrieved it into the light. It turned out to be a wooden doll, painted to resemble a familiar navy and maroon uniform...

"Is this you?" She turned to Gabe as soon as he entered the room and showed him the figurine with a wide smile.

Gabe stopped for a moment. Furrowed his brows as he tried to see what Elena was even holding, and then furrowed his brows even more when he recognised it.

"Of course not," he grumbled, closing the small distance between them. "It's just an old thing anyway."

"It does look a bit like you though." She jumped away from him at the last moment.

Gabe gasped. Elen giggled and moved her hand away when he tried to reach her.

"Why would I even have a figurine of myself?"

For a moment they circled each other, like two lions judging if it's worthy to fight the opponent for a steak, except the steak was now wooden and 15 centimetres high. They both hunched subconsciously and made their steps in the fencing manner.

"I don't know, why does Esteban have a whole wall of his own portraits?" A sly grin slid on her face. "But I see you've decided to match his collection."

"Oh now you've done it." Gabe shook his head to hide his smile and in the split of a second was right by her. Feigning to go right for the prize, he swiped her legs out from under her.

Elena waved her hands in the air giving Gabe just the opportunity he was waiting for. He swiftly yanked the figurine from her hands, giving her the last push to fall backwards completely. He turned his head with a victorious grin, just in time to see her legs rising at the height of his knees. And suddenly the ground was much closer than before.

He folded his arms to his chest, protecting the figurine with his body and rolled on the floor. Though he didn't have to roll far, of which he was promptly reminded by his head crushing into the cupboard.

He groaned loudly and let his body fall limply to the floor.

His pained complaint was answered by Elena's laughter from the bed.

"I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled and Elena's laughter only got louder.

Finally he sat up and lifted the figurine to his face. He carefully examined it for any cracks or splinters, checked if the joints in the limbs didn't fall out and most importantly if the head was still on firm. Finally when he made sure the trinket didn't get damaged, he let out a relieved sigh.

"You're lucky it's still whole," he grumbled, rising to his feet.

"Hey, I was being careful." Elena now sat up too and sent him a playful smirk. "All the way until you decided to trip me like that."

Gabe rolled his eyes again and huffed in pretended annoyance.

"So if it's not a limited edition General Nuñez action figure," Elena continued. "What is it?"

Gabe sat down next to her and thought of an answer for a moment. He changed the position of the little soldier's arms and reached for a pin to put into his hand as a sword.

"It's really just an old toy," he said finally. "But you know, it has sentimental value."

He finally passed Elena the figurine, so she could take a look at it herself. It wasn't as old as she thought at first. The paint was faded, but still held onto the uneven surface of the wood and as she moved her fingers across it, she realized that it must've been all whittled by hand, by someone who put great care in it, but wasn't a professional.

Still the amount of details was impressive, especially in the construction of the thing. She moved the tiny soldier into the proper fencing position and to her delight found out that it fits flawlessly, the wire on the joints creaked quietly, as if it had been waiting for an opportunity to shine for ages.

She glanced between the figurine and Gabe on her left for comparison. The uniform, despite the familiar colours, was a tad different, it resembles more what she remembered from her childhood, than the uniform Gabe was wearing at the moment.

"I got it from my first fencing teacher," he continued.

"The same one who threw coconuts at you driving training?" Elena raised a brow, earning herself a chuckle.

"Yeah, the same one." A sad smile reached the corners of his eyes as old memories resurfaced in his memory. "He was a tough man and always talked about how big an annoyance I am, but -" he gestured to the figurine and shrugged.

"Well, that explains why it looks like you," Elena bumped him with her shoulder. "I'm sure he could've already seen that you'll be a great guard."

"Oh, I don't think he even wanted me to be a guard," Gabe laughed again. "But you know, the situation was a bit different." He pondered something for a moment before continuing. "And to be fair, I didn't even realize that it was supposed to be a guard at the time, I was pretty sure he just came up with the design by himself. I only really connected the dots a few years ago, when I found this old thing again."

Elena nodded silently and put a comforting hand on his arm. She could see that this topic wasn't easy for him.

"Though maybe what you said was the point." He straightened suddenly and his gaze went back to the figurine. "Maybe he wasn't completely against me joining the guard, just... joining the right one."

His smile became wider and it was like his whole face lit up. Elena raised the little soldier's arms to make it cheer. They both laughed at how expressive this piece of wood was.

"So where is your coach now?" Elena asked, caressing the wooden toy one more time.

He only sighed at first and for a moment his gaze became clouded again, before he shook his head to cast the memories away.

"I wish I knew," he sent her a sad smile. "One day he just... disappeared. A few trinkets and one letter is all the proof I have that he wasn't just my hallucination."

Elena's lips twitched in a matching sad smile, but before she could say anything, they both heard a voice from downstairs, calling the unmistakable word 'dinner!'

Gabe clapped his hands on his knees and sprung up to his feet.

"Ah, just in time", he extended his hand to Elena. "I think eating is a much more fun topic than discussing the weird things I did in my childhood."

Elena examined his face for a moment more, but gave up on asking all the questions that pushed to the tip of her tongue. She sent him a smile instead and accepted his hand.

"Oh, you mean you did more weird things?" She made the little figurine gasp.

"I feel like I shouldn't have started this topic," Gabe laughed.

"Oh no, you won't escape now." She poked him in the chest and put the little soldier in his hand. "I gotta know all the crazy stories."

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you something," Gabe raised his hands in defeat. "But you can't mention it to my parents, please, they'll never stop until they tell you my whole life story."

Elena made a theatrical gesture of tapping her lips in thought as she backed out of the room.

"I'll consider it," she sent him a wide grin and in a second turned and ran towards the stairs.

"Hey- wait!" Gabe called out, running right after her to save what was left of his reputation.