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jadespeedster17 · 1 year

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Lonely

Summary: Live long enough to see yourself become the villain, Grian never put much stock into these words. We all have the power to chose good or evil. To hurt or help people. Now... he wasn’t so sure. Staring down at the mentor from opposing sides. His brow in a white knuckled grip, and the smile that was painfully familiar but directed malicious intent at him.

Warnings: Mild Violence, Hero turned Villain, Manipulation, Villain Scar, Hero Grian

Notes: this was something I talked abut a few days back on blu’s blog again. We were going crazy with the Father Spore AU and i suggested that might be a Villain Scar. So yeah. Grian’s power is he can sense the emotions of others as a passive powers, but his main power is he harness emotions as powers to create potion like effects on his arrows. Scar’s power as Hotguy is Eagles Eye, he could see the world in slow motion, a passive ability of this is he can have out of body experiences and walk to places in his minds eyes. His powers are the same as a villain, but now he’s also got abilities from a weird alien spore cloud. (No this isn’t Venom :/)

The flash of lights, cameras, and reporters yells did nothing for Cuteguy as he walked with Redbot away from the crowd. He felt numb inside, despite the face he was beat up pretty bad from the fight. Silently they reassured the citizens that though this situation was unfortunate, they had it handled. These lies sat bitter on his tongue.

The drive back was even worse with his group, all of them having varying ranges of emotions Cuteguy picked up on. They all had taken off their masks and were most reeling from it all. The one spot near Grian felt empty now, a sense of bitterness also came with it. Ren’s emotions were of anger, sitting across from Grian glaring out the window. Ren, Wulf, always felt he was leader of this pack, to possibly know one of his own had been turned and he could do nothing to stop it... there was undertone emotions of disappointment and self loathing.

Mumbo, Redbot, was solemn, yet a steel to them. No doubt he was already planning encase their once friend tried anything. He was sad, upset at himself deep down, but also seemed to be on guard. Then there was Pearl, Nebula, who he only got sadness from. Grian could faintly make out tears on his siters face, but there was also anger that burned deep. He reached over and took her hand as she didn’t look at him, but squeezed it back.

Grian went back to staring out the window, they were all exhausted after all of that. The arrow wound in his shoulder would need looked at. He could still see it, the sharp green eyes as he fired the arrow to hit his shoulder to keep him from firing shots back. “I was the one who taught you that trick Gri.” a condescending, but knowing smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

He never liked how white and sterile the HA was, sitting here now in the directors office, Xisumi was pacing slightly. He could sense frustration and worry from the man. “This is... unprecedented.” he finally spoke, voice weary and tired. “Hotguy, Scar Goodtimes, has been infected by the fungal spores then?” he asked again to the group.

Soft agreement words, they all saw it, Grian got a front row seat to it. His mentor being careful to approach, the green cloud engulfing him as he started to cough... then... watching as the mushrooms grew on his back. The dread realizing now that could have been him. “The higher ups are not gonna like this.” Xisumi groaned a bit, looking at his desk in despair.

The agency they worked for wasn’t part of a good system, and while their director tried to make it barrable for them, it was clear that the higher ups were looking for any reason to bare down on this group. They had the highest success rate in villains stopped, and the least amount of crime. But this was also because they loved what they did, and felt they were doing good, at least here. More than just for greed and advertisement.

The group looked at each other, some other faces were here too, False spoke up “This might be the thing they need to bare their teeth.” Xisumi scowled at his desk at that, “And turn this place into a money maker... no... I won’t allow that. But they will no doubt tight security and leisure activities will be replaced with more training.” he grimaced.

They all grimaced with him, but it would be understandable why. Scar knew much about them, their fighting styles, and their powers. They were close here, they were a family, Ren their defector leader, Bdubs his second and right hand, Grian’s mentor was the sniper and training him to also be one, Mumbo was tech savvy and helping Pearl also become the same. False who watched from the skies for them and kept everything running, and who scared the shit out of everyone. Welsh was their trainer, and a hard task master of a mentor to them all. Everyone... the others, now all knew that Scar was now a Villain.

Grian gripped the edges of his skirt, and narrowed his eyes slightly. He tuned out Xisumi talking about how security now will put them all on protection. He doubted Scar would jump now to attack, no doubt getting used to his new self. Ash sat on Grian’s tongue even though he didn’t say that.

The meeting was dismissed with all of them told to be on guard. Grian felt like he had a weight on his shoulders still as he walked to change and head home for the day. No one said anything, Pearl opted to stay later to help Mumbo with security.

Grian didn’t want to stick around, putting on a sweater, comfort really. And... it had a scent to it that was familiar to him. And got his bag for the walk home, the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting somber orange shades over the city. The walk home and going to bed was uneventful, Grian didn’t remember most of it, he did remember crying though.

. . .

A few days later

. . .

Sirens going off was annoying as the building echoed them, Grian rushing out to the landing pad to open his wings to the wind. There was an attack on a large government building, a lab just near the outskirts. Souls... the villain’s sculk like stuff was easy to see from the air that False saw. Blocking entry and exit and to no doubt corrupt the people inside or make them into sculk husks. With the rebreather on his mouth, so not to get the sculk in his mouth or lungs, Grian was their way to get in.

Snipers like him were to infiltrate and be the eyes for the rest of the group. He and Scar had done many dangerous stuff like this. First to go in, and the most vulnerable. Being a duo made it easier to watch their backs.

Grian couldn’t fathom what doing it alone was like for Scar before, but he was about to find out.

He managed to find a small opening that was being closed off, the sculk luckily grew slow in light, and he managed to slip through before it closed behind him. He turned on his visor to see in the dimly lit room, sculk covered many areas, shriekers and sensors, Souls used them as security, and Grian knew he’d have to be as silent as a mouse to get deep inside and not be caught.

Moving slowly over the sticky stuff on the ground, Grian remembered his training, quiet, silent, your ears were your greatest strength. He focused on the area, he frowned as he noticed the air in the area was very dense. Dust? No, these buildings were very well cleaned. Even though reports False was sending showed that the ventilation had been turned off.

Grian could hear voices ahead as he pressed to the wall, and listened closely to everything. “Our powers are almost the same, but yours has a instance effect compared to mine” that sounded like Souls. “It’s fascinating, gonna requite more experimentation. But you say you can hear their thoughts now?”

He crouched low and peered over the banister, he saw Souls, the sculk along the left side of his face. His vison zoomed in on him, looking at the blue eyes, ‘Cub Fan: Former HA Scientist corrupted by the Sculk Catalyst.’ came up on his screen. Cub had been before Grian joined, Scar spoke often of his old friend and about how sad he was that Cub because what he did.

He frowned a bit, but who was Cub talking to? “Yup!” his insides turned cold and he turned to where the other person was. “I can feel them in my head, and vice versa, they do as I saw, those that agreed have more freedom of will then that but seem happier now.”

Scar smiled at Cub as he walked away from a person that had mushrooms growing out of their skin. He looked different, having on a had that had mushrooms on it, which also had the things growing out of his back and shoulders. Green mist came off his skin, which was much paler now and his eyes near glowed green. He was dressed in a purple vest, and black pants. The white shirt was loos and was buttons were undone to expose his chest.

He seemed giddy as Grian looked around to see people around. Some had the green and blue veins of sculk on their faces and glowing blue eyes. While others looked akin to Scar, they moved on their own compared to the shambling that the Sculk Infected did. Most smoother in their emotions, like they weren’t puppets on strings, and seemed to be gathering up things.

“They keep calling me ‘Father’ which is funny.” Scar’s voice said with a sheepish laugh as Cub also laughed. They were walking together as Grian followed above them. No doubt the others were watching through his visor and listening in. “Suppose it comes with the new role.” Cub commented casually, “But I will say I’m glad you’re here with me friend.” nudging Scar lightly, who scoffed out a laugh and shoved him back. “I’ve missed talking to you. Banter fighting can only do so much.”

So Scar had teamed up with Cub then? And from what Grian can gather their powers are quiet similar. He could tell False was sending this info to the others, he gripped his bow tightly and crouched lower. He noted they had stopped walking, and Scar smirked slightly, “I wonder how long the pretty bird is gonna keep sneaking about?” he said louder, Grian pressed his back to the pillar his heart pounding.

“Grian, I know you’re here, you forget I can walk without going their psychically.” a chiding tone, like one would scold a child or tease them. At that moment the sculk next to Grian reached out, and he moved fast, not bothering with stealth anymore, Cub knew where he was. He jumped from the balcony and onto the lights above, gripping the wires as they moved.

Grian looked down at the two villain who were smiling up at him, Scar looked excited and Cub’s neutral smile. “Nice of you to come out of hiding, but I prefer to talk face to face.” Cub commented as Scar nodded in agreement with a smile that showed sharp teeth.

“Like I’d risk being on ground level with either of you.” the rebreather distorted his voice a bit, which upon noticing Scar’s smile turned to a pout.

“Really Gri? The air if very breathable here.” he waved his hand, creating another cloud of spores.

“DANGER: Highly Contagious’ his headset said as Grian scoffed, “You know your tech can tell you’re lying about that as Scar just gave a smile that said he tried.

Scar smiled up at him, “Come on cutie, just want to talk is all, surely you must be curious.” and he was, Grian was curious as to why Scar was acting like this, what the spore cloud did to him. “tell you what, I’ll promise not to try anything, and we’ll have 10 minuets to talk it out on ground level. Then I’ll give you time to get higher again. Scouts honor!” he said with a hand to his heart and the other up in the air. Cub snickered next to him at the gesture.

Narrowing his eyes Grian knew this was a bad idea, but he also knew right now it was either engage in a fight or talk. The others were still getting ready for this place, so not to be infected by whatever Scar and Cub were doing. he had to stall for time, “Fine.” he said slowly as the smile grew on Scar’s face.

It was slightly unnatural, uncanny at that, like someone just plastered a smile on the glass face. Grian jumped down, his wings catching the wind and di blow away from spores due to the wind they made. Scar just laughed at that with a grin to the other.

“There’s my Cuteguy!” Scar said cheerfully, looking like he wanted to hug Grian, but opted not to, Grian’s chest ached at how familiar it was. And action he found he already missed, strong arms around him after missions and a kiss to his cheek. “It’s only been a few days, but I already miss you.” Scar admits to him, tone softer and sadder. Grian could feel the emotions stronger now from Scar.

Longing. Sadness. Nostalgia.

Grian didn’t falter though, “So... spores? Mushrooms?” he asked a little awkward unsure how to start this conversation. A look that made his heart clench, but Scar quickly smiled again, “Yup, amazing aren’t they? I can feel through them, I can feel everything now. The edges of my awareness take up more space, but... the city is rather empty.” he admits, the word sends a cold chill through Grian.

He opened his mouth to talk only to yelp as his visor was yanked off my sculk and pulled over to Cub, “HEY!” he yelled as the villain crushed it in his hands.

Cub tutted, “Can’t have eavesdropper Cuteguy.” he said casually tossing the remains on the ground.

Grian glared, as Scar continued, “I want to talk to you without them talking in your hear Grian... To offer you a place with me.” he breathed out as Grian looked back at Scar with a gapped expression.

“w-What!?” he balked out, as Scar looked at him unflinching, not saying anything, Grian knew what he meant.

“I miss you my songbird.” Scar said again, voice gentle and calm, “I want you back in my arms, to share this with you. Don’t you miss me?”

Grian shifted at the words, he did, he did miss Scar, it’s only been a near week but he missed him so much. The knowing that he’d be fighting his mentor again, and painful night wishing this was all a bad dream.

Scar looked at him earnestly, “Gri, you can sense my emotions, I’m not lying. I’m still me, the Mycelium changed nothing. Not how I feel about you or the others... it’s so lonely Grian, it wants to bring others into it’s embrace. To show you happiness.”

The words... sounded fuzzy on his ears. Grian knew what loneliness felt like, it was cold and empty... he didn’t like how empty it felt. Waking up alone without Scar holding him through the night. Would it feel like warmth? Would it taste sweet like happy emotions? Why did he feel unsteady on his feet.

‘Closer... closer...’

He wanted closer, he just wanted to feel Scar’s arms around him once more. Wanted to taste that emotion again of being loved and secure.

“I can show you my pretty bird, I can get rid of that loneliness... don’t you want that.”

He did, he wanted it so bad. A hand brushed along his mask, down to his chin. He saw Scar’s green eyes, they glowed softly, he... saw something else. It was foggy, hazy, like looking through mist. Triumph? For a moment he saw Cub smirking in the background, the sculk spreading along the ground to trap Grian form behind.

Grian felt awareness crawl back to him as Scar moved his hand to the back, to his rebreather- “NO!” he yelled, out as emotions burst forward to shove away the fog, fear, fear, fear, and he shoved the villain back. Scar grunted at that skidding back a bit as Grian gripped his bow again, he near dropped it. His heart was racing, and the fog was listening from his mind. That... jerk he was using his powers of persuasion on him!

Scar looked up at him and growled, “I wanted to make this easier on your Cuteguy.” he said in a cold tone. “I’d have accepted you easily, less pain that way. But... guess it's the hard way.”

A snap of the fingers, so much for their deal as Cub nodded also. The group of people around them suddenly turned hostile. His wings opened and he lfew, barely dodging the sculk that tried to grab him. He also felt an arrow whiz past him as Scar near shot him out of the sky.

This room was too open, he had to get out of here, and hope backup came soon. Grian pushed his wings, and dived to move through a hallway. He could hear the hissing and screeching of the spore infested and sculk infest people coming for him.

‘I’m sorry Gri.’ A voice cooed in his head, sounding like Scar’s, ‘I hate to do this, but... you won’t fly away from you that easy pretty bird.’

Fear rushed through Grian at that, he hoped that back up go here before he was captured.

EEEEEEE! Stopping point for now, the Cult One is gonna be another 9K oneshot, so I wanted this one to be short and simple. What did you guys thing? Scar Evil and Creepy enough?

#Scarian #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #tw mild violence #heroes and villains #hotguy #cuteguy #villain scar #hero grian #tw manipulation

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noodyl-blasstal · 1 year

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Detective Delivery

Joyus Candlenights @v-for-venusaur I hope you have a wonderful Candlenights and enjoy!

And also thank you very much to @thecandlenightszone for organising the exchange!

Read Detective Delivery on A03 or below (but fair warning, it's over 7,000 words)

________

There isn’t much time. Angus knows he has to be quick, they always notice when he’s not where he’s supposed to be. He’d think it was because they were onto him, but they’re always so concerned - as if he’s lost, or hurt, or upset and not rifling through their stuff. He didn’t imagine that smugglers would worry so much about his welfare, or play chess with him, or teach him how to bake cookies, but that was probably all part of their thing. One of the hardest lessons he had learned was that bad people didn’t always seem like bad people. The Starblaster crew were bad, they were smugglers, they were stealing. They were bad people doing a good job of hiding it.

Angus finds the crates easily. The illusion cube isn’t subtle - the dimensions of the room are all wrong. He disables the alarm quickly, it’s barely disguised in the loose panel on the wall, finger marks showing exactly where to push. There aren't any other security measures as far as he can see, so Angus walks confidently through the wall and immediately sees the crates he has been looking for. Now he just needs to confirm the cargo is what he thinks it is. The door to the hold hasn’t opened yet, he should have time.

The crates are squat and rectangular, heavily riveted with clawed clamps holding them closed along the edges. Circling the central one, the glow of a keypad catches his eye. Angus examines it briefly, it’s too obvious. There’s no way they would illuminate this, everything about this box is designed to stop it being opened. He works it out just as the door to the hold slides open.

“Angles?” It’s Mr Taako’s voice. Oh no. He doesn’t want to be in trouble.

“Ango?” And Dr Lup too. Probably the worst people to find him here, they sometimes looked at him sideways if he said something which might contradict his story. Not that he did that often. Not that they noticed enough to make him try to jump ship, but they weren’t easy like Ms Lucretia, or Dr Barry.

Angus ducks down behind the crate, they have no reason to think he’s in here. How would he have even made it into the hold? There was a code! How would he have the code? He’s just a little boy.

“He’s not here, Ko. Maybe he’s in the kitchen? You have cooking lessons today, right?” Lup says. Angus cringes, investigating first was a mistake. Maybe he could still make it in time to learn how to make ‘the most baller pancakes you’ll ever eat’ once he cracks the case? Just because they were criminals doesn’t mean he can’t learn some valuable skills. No one has ever had time to teach him to cook before; he has to get the most out of it before Taako goes to jail.

Angus breathes a sigh of relief as he hears the door slide open again and the twins’ footsteps retreat. Time to get his evidence. He peers at the glowing pad again, and, careful to avoid pressing it, twists the entire thing to the left - a small groove in the metal allows the shape to turn slightly. As he does it, he hears movement from the other side of the crate.

“Lost again, Agnes?” Taako’s lilting voice is casual as ever, but Angus hears his hip holster release. It’s probably time to run, but this is the best lead Angus has. It took nearly a year to find the ship, he isn’t going to give up now. He has a blaster for emergencies, and this definitely counts as one. Angus grabs it and reaches for the pad to spin it further, the box opening will tell Taako exactly where he is, but also hopefully surprise him enough to allow Angus to take the upper hand.

The alarm was a surprise. The crate definitely opens, Angus was correct, but he should have considered that there might be other safety features. Something to add to the post-investigation review. His gasp of surprise gives Taako his exact location, and Angus finds himself hoisted into the air by the front of his shirt. He hopes Taako hasn’t creased it too badly, Angus doesn’t have many clothes and it’s important to look presentable when he’s working.

“What did you do, and how do I make it not be doing that any more?” Shouts Taako over the screeching of the alarm.

Angus stays silent. He’s read books about resistance to interrogation, he’s even practiced with his blanket over his head and staying up for an extra day here and there (sure, when he was caught up in investigations, but it still counts).

“Angus? What are you doing in here?” Lup skids through the illusory wall.

“He’s stealing from us, Goofus. What does it look like?” Taako rolls his eyes at Lup, then turns back to Angus.

“How do we make it stop, Angles?”

Agnus thinks about the case very hard. If you have something to focus on it’s harder for someone to manipulate your thinking and convince you to share information with them.

“He really is your protégé.” Lup laughs.

“Good work on getting past the wall, Ango.”

“Don’t praise him!” Taako hisses.

“He’s only a baby and he figured it out, it’s important to acknowledge good work.” Lup replies, side eyeing Taako and making a face at Angus.

“I’m not a baby!” Angus protests. They kept saying it, but he was 10, nearly 11. He ran his own business! He wasn’t a baby, he was practically an adult. Wait… was this psychological torture? He wasn’t supposed to let it get under his skin… aw beans!

“Oh look, he found his voice! It was lost, but magically recovered to refuse to acknowledge the fact he’s a tiny baby who has no business being here.” Taako sets him down on top of the crate.

“Make it stop, Ango.” He snaps.

“You know, we were stealing stuff when we were his age, well, 70, but if you do the conversion to human years, it shakes out about the same.” Lup leans her elbow on Taako’s shoulder and looks to Angus.

“What’s in it anyway Ango? Contract says we can’t look and Dav makes us promise not to, but if you’ve already cracked it then it’s nothing to do with me. Be a shame to waste it.” She peers towards the crate. Angus almost believes her, almost, but of course they know what’s in the crates. They know exactly what they’re doing, who they’re stealing from, and who they’re stealing for. He jams his mouth shut again and tries to make it as obvious as possible that he won’t be helping them, without actually saying anything. He’s not going to make the same mistake twice.

“Stop encouraging him, Lup!” Taako says, nudging her with his elbow.

“It’s good to have an inquiring mind.” Lup says, and elbows him back. Angus debates whether this will devolve into another fight. He kind of hopes so, it’ll give him enough time to crack the lid, record the evidence, and run. He scoped out the small research ship on his first day aboard, and then Dr Barry gave him an extensive tour because he was always excited to show off his lab and the equipment they had. It was almost enough to convince Angus he wasn’t a hardened criminal, but he wasn’t going to be fooled again. It had taken him a long time to rebuild his stock of credits, even longer to find another hat he liked as much as the one they took.

The alarm is still blaring, Angus wants to try and stop it. The noise is overwhelming, but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the twins. Taako is apparently stronger than he looks and Angus doesn’t want to get grabbed again. The decision is taken from him when a second alarm joins the crate’s wailing, followed by a jarring scraping noise.

“What the…” Is all Lup manages, before the hull doors buckle.

“Angus?” Taako asks.

Angus isn’t sure why Taako thinks this is anything to do with him. As if he has the ability to summon another ship. If he could do that he wouldn’t need transport, would he? As far as they know, that’s why he’s here. He’s obviously going to contact the militia, absolutely and definitely, but not yet. He still has to finish his science lessons with Barry, and Lucretia has really helped him with his drawing but he can still improve. Anyway, he can’t go until Merle shows him the hydroponic tanks properly - Angus still doesn’t know the names of all the fish.

“Attention Starblaster. Prepare to be boarded. A security alarm has notified us of a contractual breech. An investigation will begin immediately.” The tinny announcement pipes from the ship’s speaker system, barely audible over the various alarms.

“Angus, fix it!” Lup hisses. She’s serious for the first time, face paling visibly.

Taako looks scared too. Maybe Angus went too far? He didn’t mean to call the militia down on them… yet. He was going to do that, in the future, probably, not right now.

“I don’t know how.” He breaks his silence. It seems worth it for this. Angus feels like crying. He doesn’t want to cause problems, he wants to solve them, and he’s so close, so so close. Why didn’t he consider internal security? It was a careless error. This might be just as bad for him as it was for them. If the militia ask who he is… if the crew tell them what Angus said… Oh no. He turns the pad back to the starting position.

“Maybe this will do it.” He says as nothing happens.

“Angus. Fix it.” Taako looks furious.

Angus wants to. He wants to so hard, and maybe if he just closes his eyes, summons up all of his resolve and hopes really hard he can do it. He wishes and wishes and the alarm screams and screams and he has to admit it was a bit of a long shot.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Sir. I want to, I do.”

Taako’s face softens slightly.

“We’ll figure it out, Pumpkin.” He says, moving to crouch next to Angus as the hull screams more and the doors shudder.

Angus felt better momentarily, then realises what Taako is doing, he won’t be lulled into a false sense of security again.

“We wouldn’t need to figure it out if you weren’t all criminals!” Angus doesn’t mean it to sound so aggressive, it’s a statement of fact after all, but his voice is full of the acid he feels when he thinks about how many children the money would help. There are alarms and noise and everything is horrible and it’s all because of their choices.

“Criminals? Oh, so that’s what you think of ol’ Taako and Lup? We’re good enough to teach you how to cook and make fires and do handstands, but you’re just judging us? If it weren’t for us being ‘criminals’ you wouldn’t be getting home to your Grandfather for Candlenights, would you? Why exactly would the Ambassador to the Astral Empire be using the Starblaster to take his precious Grandson home if we were criminals?” Taako asks, looking offended. Angus almost feels bad… almost. He had to lie to them, otherwise they wouldn’t have taken him. It was their own fault that they didn’t look into the letter any further. How often did someone show up with a letter and a stick of credits to ask them to do a job anyway? Surely it should have rang some kind of alarm bell. And the stuff they taught him to do? They chose that. It wasn’t Angus’ fault that they wanted to show him, he was always happy to learn. Plus, it isn’t fair to judge people either. Sometimes people do crimes and that doesn’t mean they aren’t people, they’re just people who also probably have to go to prison, so they may as well teach him some cool stuff first.

“Sir, I… He… that’s not important right now.” Angus can’t think of what to say. It’s probably time for him to explain that he knows their game, that he understands what they’ve been doing.

“I know what you’ve been doing.” Angus tries to glare, he’s not sure how convincing it is.

“Are you okay, little man?” Lup asks, concern in her voice.

“You’re squinting. Is there something in your eye?”

“Stop looking after me, you don’t care about orphans do you? You’re the ones taking the funds from us!” Angus says. He has to push back, he can’t get used to this; can’t adjust to having someone to watch his back and think about his feelings and wash out his eye if he gets something in it. He’s going to be alone again soon.

“We’re doing fucking what now, sorry?” Says Taako, outrage clear in his voice.

“Stealing from who?” Lup says at the same time.

Angus opens his mouth to answer, to tell them he doesn’t believe their surprise, how could they not know what they were doing? He’s interrupted by the hull doors buckling one last time and screeching open. Four heavily armoured militia stride into the ship, seemingly unaffected by the illusory wall, they level their blasters at Angus and the twins. The alarm from the box finally stops blaring.

“Drop your weapons and stand down.” The voice filters through the heavy black helmet, all traces of accent or personality lost. Angus peers curiously at the red tinted visor, but nothing is visible through it. He usually deals with the more palatably humanoid side of the militia.

“This is all a misunderstanding, the kid opened it by accident.” Lup says casually, jabbing a thumb at Angus.

“No nefarious intent. We’ll just seal it back up and be on our way.”

“The child opened the crate?” The same tinny voice comes from a different helmet.

“Yeah, just kids being kids, you know how it is.” Lup smiles. Angus feels something tighten in his stomach, he can’t read the emotions in their voices, but their body language isn’t indicating that they plan to stand down. If anything, they’re more focused on him.

“No.” They reply in sync.

“Hand over the criminal you have apprehended and we will reseal the crate so you may continue the delivery.” Says one stepping forwards, holstering their blaster and reaching for Angus.

“Absolutely not!” Says Lup at the same time Taako shrugs and grabs Angus again. Surely they weren’t actually going to hand him over? They’d been so kind to him, and Lup said no. If Lup said no then it definitely wouldn’t be happening.

“Okay, here you go.” Taako says evenly.

“Taako!” Lup kicks him.

“We’re not handing over the kid.”

“He was my apprentice Lup. I, Taako, the best chef this side of the Astral Empire was sharing my skills. I let him into my kitchen! He was my apprentice and he tried to steal from us. I was going to give him the good recipes.” Taako says.

“I can’t believe I fell for this again.” Taako sounds hurt. Angus didn’t mean for Taako to be hurt.

“Ko, it’s not the same.” Lup says gently and pulls him back.

“Now get down.” With that, she’s launching a ball of what Angus could swear is fire from her blaster. It slams into the foremost of the militia, shoves them backward, leaves a large hole punched in the front of their armour. Angus tries not to stare too long at the mix of blistered wires and charred flesh he sees there.

“Lulu, what the fuck?” Taako screeches as he dives behind the crate, pulling Angus with him and covering him. Angus isn’t thinking too hard about the fact Taako’s protecting him with his literal body right now despite apparently being willing to hand him over a few seconds ago.

“Are you trying to die? Taako did not sign up for a space rebellion today. Did you look at my calendar? Is “fight space police and die about it” in there for today? No. No it fucking isn’t.”

The ship alarm stops. The others must be doing something… or the militia ship has overtaken the systems, but Angus hopes that’s not the case. As much as he trusts the legal process, he technically did open the crate… and lie about his identity… Which is attempted theft, fraud, and transport under false pretences. He’s technically still registered to the orphanage. This could be bad. He starts trying to worm his way out, maybe he can make a break for it while they’re distracted? Although, now Lup’s going to be in trouble for trying to protect him… but she’s a criminal, he shouldn’t care! But, Angus is a criminal… no, he was doing what he did for good reasons, he had to do it to solve the real crime, her crime.

“Right Angus…” Lup fires twice and ducks behind the crate too.

“What’s this about orphans?”

“Lup, is this really the time?” Taako presses himself around Angus more firmly as the wall above them sparks and shudders from the militia returning fire.

“We’ll be done with this soon.” Lup replies, confidently.

“Backup will be here any second.” She winks at Angus whose head is barely visible under Taako’s armpit.

“Now Ango, you need to tell us what’s going on.”

“You know what’s going on, Dr Lup.” He says resolutely. He refuses to get caught up in mind games, in Lup pretending she doesn’t know.

“Angus, we’re specialist freight delivery. We don’t ask too many questions, yeah, but it’s to help people like you and your Grandfather. Why the fuck would we want to hurt kids?” Lup looks so earnest, so confused, but Angus knows the answer.

“Money.” He says, and tries not to feel guilty as hurt flashes across Lup’s face.

The militia are nearly on them now. Lup fires a few more shots, Taako springs up to cover her, then straight back over Angus as fire is returned.

“Agatha, apologise right now. We raised you better than this. She’s out here fighting space police for you and you’re going to thank her by accusing her of murdering orphans and eating their skin? She just shot a dude to save your accusation wielding butt.” Taako huffs.

Angus debates refusing, but he can’t really argue with the logic… well, some of it. The important bits.

“Sorry Dr Lup.” He mutters.

She winks and pops up to shoot again just as the opening bars of Thunderstruck blare out of the ship’s speakers at full volume.

“Cavalry’s here.” She says as she ducks back down, barely avoids the blast which grazes the top of the crate.

“Taako, your side.”

Angus feels himself shoved to Lup as Taako rolls sideways, fires, and rolls back, grabbing him again.

“Magnus!” Comes a yell from the doorway. Cavalry’s here indeed, Angus can’t help but smile. Statistically it’s highly unlikely that the crew will lose, the militia clearly weren’t expecting this level of resistance. Angus tries not to think about whether everyone on the crew is actually registered as being on board; that information isn’t relevant to his case. There’s a volley of shots, and several loud thuds. Angus tries to wriggle free and look, he wants to make sure it’s the militia falling, not his friends… wait, the suspects. Taako holds him firm.

“Taako’s not gonna let you get hurt, Pumpkin. They’ll be okay. We’ve had worse.” Taako’s voice is calm, well, as calm as it ever gets. Angus wants to ask about the ‘worse’, but it probably isn’t the time.

“I can’t believe he chose fucking AC/DC. He always forgets that it’s not as cool after the intro.”

“Maybe he thought it’d be done by the time it got past that bit?” Angus suggests, muffled against Taako’s arm.

“He doesn’t plan, doesn’t think about the what ifs and the maybes and how long it might take to murder four highly trained space operatives. It’s all “Magnus!” and “Thunder!”” Taako shakes his head.

Another thud and the fire stops. Taako springs to his feet, still holding Angus.

“It’s okay, Ko. We’re good, you can put him down.” Lup nudges his shoulder and nods at the corpses.

“Although, maybe we should cover his eyes?” She adds, a frown crossing her face.

Angus rolls his eyes and wriggles free.

“Dr Lup, I’m a professional.” He pretends not to hear Taako’s loud snort as he strides over to the bodies, he should probably listen to what the crew are talking about, they could be getting their alibi straight, but honestly, Angus has bigger questions. As much as he’d boarded the ship convinced that the Starblaster was behind the thefts, it seemed less and less likely. Why would the militia come because of a crate alarm? Was the Starblaster being tracked?

The armour doesn’t appear to have pockets, Angus isn’t surprised, but was hoping for something. There had to be a clue. Any evidence was probably on their ship.... Their ship which was right there.

“Captain Davenport, was anyone left on their ship?” Angus shouts up, tearing himself away from the corpse.

The crew stops whispering and they turn to look at him. Merle gives an over exaggerated wave, but Lucretia pushes his hand down.

“Angus…” Begins the captain, gently.

“...do you think we’re stealing from the orphanage?”

“Yes.” Says Angus quickly. Then hesitates.

“Well, I did… because you are. Open the box, you’ll see it’s full of the latest donation to the fund. They never make it to the orphanage, because you take them somewhere else instead.”

Mr Magnus looks like he might cry.

It’s Dr Barry who strides over to the crate. The alarm is still wailing, but barely. He pulls the lid away, and stamps the siren until it falls silent, and then a few more times for good measure.

“He’s right.” Barry says.

The argument that breaks out is impossible to follow, and Angus doesn’t see the point in trying. They clearly don’t know what’s going on. Instead, he goes to investigate the hull doors where the militia boarded. He listens hard, no immediate sign of reinforcements. It would be pointless to get arrested now after everything, but he isn’t going to solve this without taking risks.

_________________________________

Taako is going to kill the kid, but he has to keep him alive long enough to do it, so when Angus slips away Taako has to follow. Not because he cares, obviously, just for practicality’s sake. They should be making pancakes right now, now starting Space War VI. They’d all promised to never be involved in another inciting incident after last time but apparently Lup just couldn’t help herself. It isn’t like he was actually going to hand the kid over, it just seemed like a good way to kill time until the others got there, but apparently Lup’s twin telepathy only applied to bullying him and not realising that he wasn’t about to indirectly throw a kid in prison.

It isn’t difficult to keep up but Taako hangs back, Angus is self sufficient most of the time. Anyway, he doesn’t really want to talk to the tiny backstabber right now. Taako showed him how to make the good cookies, and this was how he repaid him? Trying to get him thrown in jail? It’s the circle of life, the apprentice rises up to try and kill the master, but Taako isn’t so easy to usurp, Angus won’t take him out so easily. He’s been preparing for years baby, fool him once, shame on Taako, fool him twice? It simply isn’t going to happen. False accusations are nothing new, that’s why they definitely don’t hurt any more. Taako doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

Angus is thorough, stopping into each room he comes across. Taako tries not to feel too smug about how badly the kid would have struggled with his room - keeping things messy is a security measure. No one can tell him different. It’s definitely nothing to do with how hard it is to put things away. Nope nope nope.

Lup and Magnus appear either side of him without warning. Taako tries very hard not to shriek as loudly as he would like to when Magnus whispers “Magnus!” in his ear.

“Sssh.” Taako hisses, as quietly as possible.

“Are you having a feeling again, Koko? Compelled to look after your baby boy?” Lup whispers and wiggles her eyebrows. Taako debates whether Angus will notice if he shoots her with his blaster, just on the zappy setting, he isn’t feeling that murdery. Honest.

“Shhh.” He repeats.

“In fact,” she continues, “this is the opposite of “out here” which I believe I may have heard you mention is the place you prefer to be.” She gives a shit eating grin.

Taako’s hand drifts to his blaster, just a small zap, a teeny tiny one.

As Lup opens her mouth to continue making ridiculous accusations Taako shoves her and Magnus back round the corner. Angus is on the move again.

They track him quietly down the corridor, engaging in the second quietest slappy fight of their career. Magnus occasionally intercedes to avoid alerting Angus.

“Taako.” Magnus hisses.

“Sssh,” says Taako, poking Lup in the ribs.

“Taako!” Magnus whispers again, sounding more urgent.

“Lup.” He adds, tugging her back as she steps on Taako’s boot.

“Sssh!” Taako repeats.

“Agnes will…”

“Hear you, Sir?” Says Angus.

Taako tenses and barely muffles a cry of surprise.

“Jeezy creezy Agnes! You try to get me arrested and now you just straight up try to kill me?” Taako shouldn’t have come. He should have left the baby to go do his big brain bullshit with the militia ship alone and unguarded because apparently he hates Taako and wants to make sure he’s dead - be it from prison food, getting fucking shot, or shock.

“I knew you were following me the whole time, Sir.” The kid has the audacity to roll his eyes. Taako wonders how difficult it would be to uncouple the ship with Lup and Agnes on it. They’d be fine, probably.

“But I thought you should all know at least two more of the militia are still on board.” Angus smiles at them as if he expects a pat on the head. As if anyone’s gonna congratulate him for…

“Well done, Ango!” Says Magnus enthusiastically.

“How did you work that out?”

“It was simple, Sir!” Angus glows with pride and Taako glares at Magnus, then takes a quick mental holiday during the explanation. Wah wah wah, amount of rooms, mih mih mih, clock in sheet.

“So we have to kill two more super soldiers who are probably on high alert and ready to murder us super hard?” Taako asks, interrupting the end of Angus’ unreasonably detailed explanation.

“Bet I can kill mine faster than you.” Says Lup to Magnus.

“Nuh uh!” He protests, about to take off running. Taako grabs him.

“Woah woah woah. Chaboy has a notion, just a little idea, something off the wall, but how about we come up with some kind of plan? I know. I know. Ridiculous. But what if, and hear me out, what if we knew which direction we were going and whether we knew about any specific weaknesses, or… or… we regrouped and got the others to help us too? Barold has that gnarly death ray.” Taako watches Magnus’ face fall as he speaks. Oh, the crushing weight of not rushing in, poor Magnus, how he suffers.

“That’s a really great idea Sir. There’s two of them, and you’re going that way.” Angus points towards the corridor ahead from which clanking steps echo.

“I’m afraid it might be a bit late for the other bits, but I think their weakness was being shot a lot with your blasters. Anyway, I’m going to hide in here, good luck!” Angus ducks into the room nearby. Well shit.

Magnus glances into the room and dives in too, Taako knows he's not running away and abandoning them to the fight, but he can't help the brief flicker of panic. But even if Magnus did run, he and Lup would be fine, they've got this.

The twins level their weapons at the corner as the approaching steps speed up. Maybe mildly hysterical yelling wasn't the best stealth decision. Taako ignores the impulse to grab Lup and run, he knows she'll fight him every step of the way and never forgive him even if he could win that strength contest. Anyway, the nerd needs to stay alive long enough to get taught Taako’s second best pancake recipe (two can play at betrayal, Angus!)

Taako fires too soon, he knows it the second before the shot hits empty air and the footsteps stop. Fuck. Taako shoves Lup through the open doorway as the Militia return fire. He feels the tell-tale sting on his thigh, not quite fast enough; but Lup’s okay, Angus is safe, Magnus is here. It’s not worth mentioning, probably cauterised itself anyway, he can still walk… kind of, if he just shuffles his jacket they won’t know.

“So what’s the plan?” Magnus asks, keeping his voice low, and shooting blind down the corridor.

“Not getting fucking shot.” Taako replies, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him back. His leg twinges, but holds.

“We lost the element of surprise, but there’s still three of us.” Lup says. Taako isn’t sure whether to admire her, or try to tackle her. If she gets herself shot over this kid he’s going to do something about it, definitely something, yelling probably. Fuck his thigh hurts.

“Four of us, Dr Lup.” Says Angus, peering out from below the bunk in the corner.

“I brought my blaster.”

Magnus shakes free of Taako’s grasp and offers Angus a hand to help him slide out.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely not.” Says Taako, firing his own blaster down the corridor, careful to angle his leg away from the others, retreating before the answering fire can catch him again.

“The baby isn’t allowed a gun.”

“I’m not a baby!” Says Angus.

“We need everyone we can get right now.” Magnus adds.

“You can stay at the back.” Says Lup. Only Taako picks up on the slight wobble in her voice.

“Lup?” He asks quietly, he’s not sure why she’s letting this happen.

“We’ll keep him safe, he won’t have to shoot, but if we leave him out he’ll make his own plans.” She mutters to Taako, and yeah. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense. Angles won’t be told no, that’s for fucking sure.

“Fine, baby in the back.” Taako says loudly.

“I’m not a b…” Begins Angus, a shot glances off the side of the door. Those bastards, are they trying to do trick shots? It’s not a game of fucking pool.

This time, Taako doesn’t grab Magnus as he runs to the door.

“Still just the two, one’s hanging back as cover, the other’s advancing.” A shot hits the side of the door where Magnus had peered out.

“Looks like they’ve figured out the angles.”

“How about heights? Can we do anything with that?” Lup asks.

“I’m tall.” Magnus says, helpfully. Taako glares up at him.

“Mr Magnus, Sir. Why don’t we use the desk as a shield, it’s extremely sturdy. It’s bolted to the floor, but I think you should be able to…” Angus stops talking as Magnus rips the desk out of the floor.

“...loosen the bolts.” Angus finishes.

“Everyone behind me?” Magnus asks. Taako hopes the desk will actually fit through the door. At least Magnus is holding it upright and not sideways. Taako sweeps Angus behind him and gets into position behind Lup.

“You’re sure the desk is gonna be sturdy enoug…” Lup starts to ask as Magnus advances.

“I certainly hope so.” Mutters Angus behind him.

The desk takes the first volley easily, after the third it begins buckling. Well fuck.

“Go time.” Yells Magnus over the fire and starts fucking sprinting. Taako hopes that no one hears his pained whimpers over the protesting metal and sparking explosions. He can’t do too much of this.

The first impact is satisfying. Taako isn’t sure how you miss a fucking table barrelling towards you at speed, but maybe they didn’t anticipate that it was just gonna keep rolling straight for them? Did they think the Starblaster crew were just going to stop and duel? They deserved it. Magnus lifts the table slightly.

“One down, watch out underfoot and keep him down, Lup.”

Magnus kicks out as the armoured figure tries to right themselves, fells them again, and Lup drops back briefly. Two short blasts denote that it’s done. Taako glances at Angus, he didn’t see phased by the bodies in the hull, but it was different seeing the aftermath.

“They were trying to kill us, Sir.” Angus says without looking up. Rude. Taako didn’t give him permission to read his mind.

“Table isn’t gonna hold, I have another plan.” Says Magnus as Lup slots back into formation.

“What are you…” Lup doesn’t finish her sentence before Magnus launches the table down the corridor. A second thunk implying it found its mark.

“...thinking.” Lup finishes.

The table falls short, trapping only their legs. Taako and Lup pull up their blasters to fire, but Angus is quicker than both of them, firing a stun into the gap between the helmet and neck armour.

“I thought you might want to ask one of them what is going on, but feel free to finish the job if you don’t need to. The stun isn’t very effective on cyborgs, so you’ll need to grab them quickly.”

“On it.” Magnus lunges forward.

“They won’t need these.” He says, and grabs an arm. Taako feels sick, there’s definitely a robot/people line for these things and Magnus has apparently smashed right through it. Lup looks back at him with wide eyes and side eyes Angus a few times.

“Right Pumpkin, let's go find the rest of the super secret documents.” Taako shoves Angus forwards, past the horror show Magnus is creating.

“It’s okay, Sir, I’ve seen worse you know.” Angus shouldn’t sound so calm right now.

“Oh so you’ve got time to spend watching Mangus rip someone’s arms off, but you didn’t have a few moments to get back up before you came onto an enemy ship?” Taako keeps walking, hopefully Angus will follow, he isn’t in the mood to watch what Magnus is doing right now… Maybe Lup can talk him down.

“Yes Sir, you’re right Mr Taako. We should go and find evidence. I think we might be able to clear your names.” Angus skips forwards as a horrifying ripping sound comes from behind them, followed by a firm “Magnus no! That’s people!” from Lup. Taako focuses really hard on singing the jingle for HoloPans! in his head, just in case.

In the cockpit he leaves Angus to his own devices. It’s like releasing a bucket of spiders into a room but the kid’s every spider and he’s in one place and is also all of the spiders at the same time, just without the extra legs, probably, or does he have more than two? Taako is fine, is the thing. He’s fine and he doesn’t need to look at his leg, but he is going to have a little sit down because it has been a big day and he deserves it.

“You didn’t do it, Sir.” Angus is tugging Taako’s jacket. Taako doesn’t know why, he isn’t asleep.

“I know I didn’t do it, Agnes. Which is what I’ve been telling you since you accused me. If I recall correctly, Lup told you too, and Magnus, and Barry, and everyone fucking else. Mostly, because we didn’t do it.” Taako isn’t defensive about this. Definitely not. He just likes to be thorough when explaining things.

“Suspects don’t usually confess immediately, Sir. I had to check. But now I know, and I can show the militia that too.” Angus says brightly.

“Uh huh.” Says Taako, giving Angus a moment to catch up.

“I can’t tell the militia can I, Sir?” He says, quietly.

“Nope!” Taako pops the P.

“Probably not best to let them know that: Good news! The Starblaster crew didn’t do it, we just killed five…ish of your scary tech soldiers to prove it, also you did it so arrest yourselves!”

“How did you…?” Angus looks slightly offended.

“Work out it was them?” Taako asks. Angus nods.

“Who else was it gonna be? Big scary Astral Empire with its big scary space force. Never trust authority, kid.” Taako throws up a peace sign and definitely doesn’t list sideways, Taako’s good.

“They were switching out the donations before they even got to the orphanage. Then they put trackers in the boxes and tail you to make sure you don’t open them and don't ask any questions. They keep tabs on your trips, but don’t do the job themselves so they can pin it on you if they ever need to.” Angus pauses and focuses on Taako with a frown.

“Is the wound worse than you thought, Mr Taako?” Angus asks, looking directly into his fucking soul.

“What’re you talking about, Agnes?” Taako’s cool as a cucumber, a really cold one, straight from the freezer, terrible texture, great for black eyes.

“You got hit, Sir.” Says Angus softly.

“Nuh uh.” Replies Taako, got him. Can’t refute that. Now it’s time for a nap! Winners get to sleep.

____________________________________

Awareness comes back slowly, but he can see brown skin and a white topknot bobbing about beside him.

“Merle?” Taako croaks.

“Decided to re-join us have you?” Merle grouses.

“It’s Candlenights, and here I am, busting my ass, trying to make sure you don’t shuffle off the mortal coil.”

“Tell Lup to put more salt in the mashed potatoes, she never uses enough.” Taako says as his eyelids grow heavy again.

______________________________________

This time, the noise wakes him. He grumbles and tosses his head, but nothing’s blocking out what sounds like fucking Margharetiaville being stop-start jabbed out on the piano and then echoed on a violin. Are they seriously trying to figure this arrangement out right now? Why isn’t he in the med bay? Who the fuck is thumping on his brain? No wait, that’s Angus, Angus is thumping on his good Tupperware with his olive wood spoons.

“Those aren’t drums!” Taako tries to get up, realises it’s a losing battle and flops back onto the chair.

“Told you that’d do it.” Says Angus smugly and smiles up at Lup and Barry.

Barry pats him on the back and slips him some chocolate.

“Good one bud, you win.”

“Guh?” Says Taako, wisely.

“Thought we’d Weekend at Bernies you so you didn’t miss out on the entirety of Candlenights, brother mine. It wasn’t the same without you” Lup flops down on the sofa beside him.

“Wanna see the photos? We really thought you’d wake up during the doughnut sandwiches, but you can catch it next year. Lup grabs a stack of photos from the table and flicks through to one with Taako slumped in a chair wearing a pair of doughnut deely boppers while everyone else cheers together doughnut sandwiches dripping peanut butter.

“Glad you’re back with us.”

“I… you? Urgh.” Everything hurts and Taako’s brain feels like it’s brimming with soup, the kind that you could stand a spoon up in. Good for bread, terrible for thinking.

“I think you might need to explain what happened, Dr Lup.” Angus wriggles his way onto the sofa too, and Barry slides on beside Lup.

“Once upon a time…” Says Barry.

“There was a beautiful elf,” Adds Lup.

“And her brother Taako, who was just fine.”

Taako groans.

“I need you to know that I would be storming out right now if my leg worked.” He prods Lup in the ribs and is pleased to get a gigglesnort in reply.

“So I got shot.”

“You got shot, bud.” Says Barry.

“And then?”

“You went into shock, then you got an infection, because you can’t do anything and not be dramatic about it.” Lup says, grinning at him. Taako resists the impulse to huff and prove her right. It’s fine to be expressive.

“Then you decided to drag me to meals while I was passed out?” He asks.

“Not just meals, we also just used you to scare Magnus a lot.” Barry says.

Taako snorts, to be fair, Magnus had it coming after the last 3 years of trying to ‘prepare them for anything’.

“Ms Lucretia read to you.” Angus says soothingly.

“And Merle…”

“Please don’t finish that sentence if it involves plants.” Taako cuts him off, not wanting to hear about what level of flirting and or heavy petting may have gone on next to him while he couldn’t make it stop.

“Captain Davenport ordered you not to die!” Angus’ change of direction tells Taako everything he needs to know about Merle’s conduct.

“That’s good of him.” Taako says, trying very hard to pretend he’s not crying. He isn’t, obviously, his eyes are just watering because they’re not used to being open apparently.

“Magnus reworked some of his robot arm collection into a spare leg in case you needed it.” Lup grins at him.

“It’s as horrifying as you imagine.”

“Speaking of his collection…?” Taako doesn’t want to say more, he’s not sure if he actually wants to know the answer.

“I didn’t let him.” Lup says quickly.

“He understood… eventually.”

“And why are you still here, kid?” Taako asks.

“I thought we needed to get you home for Candlenights.”

“I still have a pancake recipe to learn, Sir.” Angus says, smiling brightly.

Taako stares very hard at the ceiling.

“Okay cool.” He flops back onto the chair and closes his eyes. If he passes out again no one can ask him any questions about how he may or may not feel.

New voices approach and Taako stays resolutely still.

“Oh no, you just missed Taako. He’s definitely absolutely passed out again. I suppose we can at least try and get the perspective picture that looks like he’s on top of the candlenights bush. Do you want to hold him up, Magnus? Unless of course, he is awake and wants to talk about his feelings?” Lup directs the last bit of the sentence into Taako’s ear. Taako plays dead. There’s no way he’s giving up that easily.

_____________________________________________

Taako frames the picture of the 8 of them gathered round the bush. Magnus stood to the side, dangling Taako by his collar in the general direction of the bush, nowhere near the top. Lup and Barry are throwing up peace signs, Dav salutes formally, Lucretia looks vaguely worried, and Merle is uncomfortably close to the greenery. Angus sits happily in the middle of the frame, his smile bright enough to distract from the chaos around him.

#Candlenights 2022 #TAZ Fic #TAZ Balance #Angus McDonald #Taako Tacco #Did this get slightly out of hand? Maybe #Taako would rather play dead while Magnus hoists him than admit to having affection for anyone or anything #Everyone may have gone mildly feral - as a treat #Noodyl Writes #TW for background non-canon character death #TW for Magnus getting overzealous with his robot arm proclivity #TW mild violence #Feel free to message and ask about the content if you're concerned

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silversrantsandrambles · 2 months

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The oc... He's in my head.... The voices say I need to post him or I'll actually die

Bro he's the special interest oc and the comfort oc, I genuinely love him. He's my DND character and so much fun to play!

I have so many oneshots written about him, so many doodles of him... He's literally muscle memory for me.

And yes he has his own playlist!

I'm gonna do an art dump with him soon! Be prepared.

Reblogs = likes for me!!

#tw mild gore #mild gore #mild violence #tw mild violence #dnd #d&d #dnd oc #dnd character #art #digital art #oc reference #drow #drow oc #refsheet #refrence sheet #Spotify

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averagekindergartenfan · 6 months

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TW: DEATH, SLIGHT VIOLENCE.. AND SLIGHTLY INTENSIVE STARING IF YOU HAVE SCOPOPHOBIA

Brooo SOMEONE GET HIM OUTTA THERE😭

#my ocs #oc stuff #original characters #original character #gacha #gacha life 2 #tw mild violence #tw violence #tw death #tw staring #between law and morality

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outsidethewatertower · 6 months

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Dash: Hmph!

*he pulled her cheeks so hard they became red*

#outsidethewatertower #sadie sheep #my art #Oc #animaniacs #animaniacs oc #askblog #Tw mild violence

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thorninspaceandtime · 1 year

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Ok so listen

I have had this headcanon for a while and it's very very sad

Kinda spoilers from here on but it's a nearly 20 year old game so

Rosalina from Super Mario Galaxy, right? We know her, we love her (I want her to hold me gently and kiss me on the forehead but that's besides the point)

She has the one bang covering her right eye when we meet her as Mario in the game storyline, but not in her storybook.

I propose:

She's fighting and defending her beloved Lumas and her space observatory from the Bowsers, and a claw, a robot part, SOMETHING takes out her eye. She is incapacitated while the Bowser army takes her power stars and strands her and the Lumas. The star kids, uncertain of human anatomy and medical care, take her to the robot in the engine room.

She heals up, but the loss of her eye leaves a nasty scar that scares the lumas. They know it's still her, and they still love their mama very much! It just worries them that the scar might be hurting her and they constantly dote on her and fuss, making Rosalina worry twice as much in return.

Rosa, not wanting her children to fret themselves to their heat deaths over her eye, covers it with her hair.

(Does the constant reminder of her defeat also make her depressed? Perhaps. Does she also find solace in pretending her eye is just covered by her hair and not that she lost it completely? Perhaps.)

She tells them that she is fine and that they need to focus on ensuring they have a food supply, so she heads to the gate and collects star bits that fall there with the help of the bunny lumas.

And then Mario shows up, and offers his assistance.

Let me know what you think!!

#rosalina #super mario galaxy #headcanon #warning mild gore #tw mild violence #rosalina super mario galaxy #princess rosalina

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queen-of-the-weenies · 1 year

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Gierra, the Wolf

An automaton built to lead an army of other automatons, until the day she was put in stasis for routine maintenance. When she next awoke, three centuries had passed, and her home lay in overgrown ruins around her.

She had been awakened by a band of explorers, all of whom were promptly slaughtered for trespassing. She found another of her kind still intact and revived her as well, and the two would guard the ruined city-state for a decade, massacring anyone foolish enough to attempt plundering it for riches. During one such attempted theft, an underground chamber was revealed, the dusty air choking the thieves long enough for Gierra to dispatch them. Within the chamber, she found only a mask depicting a beautiful woman's face, the eyes obscured by silver cobwebs. Rather than return the mask to its display case, Gierra decided to keep it with her. Something compelled her to keep it close.

Gierra began to have thoughts. Not directives from long-dead rulers, not logical conclusions based on machine learning, but thoughts. She wondered about the world beyond the city-state's crumbling walls. Was the world outside still ruled by wise old women? Do they still worship the goddesses in the proper manner?

One day... Gierra simply left. Abandoned her duty, abandoned her comrade, abandoned the only home she'd ever had. Beyond the walls was a vast jungle, full of life. Beyond the jungle lay other cities, brimming with people. So much noise and color was nearly overwhelming after so many years surrounded by dust and greenery.

Then she began to notice things that undercut the dazzling display of this new world. Old women were left sick and shivering in alleyways. Women were forced to wear constricting, heavy clothing that covered every inch of their bodies and hair. Girls were forbidden to run and play with boys. Young women were leered at while they cowered away. Everywhere, men carried swords and ran shops and enjoyed themselves with working women and alcohol.

The first time Gierra encountered a man beating his wife, she was so appalled that she broke into the house and ripped the man apart. To her surprise, the woman began to scream in terror, calling for help, and Gierra was chased out of town by soldiers attempting to arrest her. She did not understand why the woman feared her, when Gierra had just saved her from such unjust abuse.

It was now that the mask began to whisper to her. It informed her that the female-dominated ways of her old life were long past, and men had taken over, subjugating women so thoroughly that they couldn't fathom being able to fight back. The mask revealed to her that this new world was full of such societies, where women suffered and died at the hands of men. The news infuriated Gierra.

From that day forward, she vowed to use her strength to protect women whenever she could. While her physical limitations meant that not all could be saved, perhaps her efforts could spark others to do the same.

Gierra donned the mask, allowing the whispering voice to guide her, and she began her crusade.

#anna's story emporium #writing #short story #character concept #tw abuse #tw mild violence #Sisterhood of the Black Spider

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anthropophobiacomic · 1 year

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Part 53 - Spider Hunter

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#anthropophobia #hanna #evan #webtoon #webcomic #scarlett #tw mild violence

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jadespeedster17 · 2 years

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Ages Like Glass

Warnings: Blood, Hypnosis, and mild Violence.

POV: Second (You/Your)

Notes: Send help, I’ve fallen for train twins hard and it’s turning into a hyper fixation. In other news, I’ve been gaining followers like crazy, you all really like my fanfic content huh? *Flushes* And a few I follow and love their content of, which I’ll tag, have said they want to see Vampire stuff. Given I’ve mostly been doing Hivemind, let’s have some Vampire Twins as a treat.

@malaiselover @peachsodama @bellafragolina (Lol I keep tagging you guys in things as my ideas keep coming from your pages, I hope that alright. I don’t want to crowd your inbox.) ((Side note: If you all ever have a request, just let me know. I’m just happy to have inspiration :D))

Summary: you have always been able to see years above peoples heads. You know how old they area, and when they are going to die. The time they are born, and the time of their demise. But a day in a simple Unova Subway Station you meet two people who are over a hundreds years old! But... that’s impossible!

--------

People were willing to do anything to be told their fates, to be told what would happen in their life. You knew this all too well. Having been traveling around the world doing many number of ‘occult’ things. Really you just read tarot cards, bone readings, and spell jars. You found out that despite your gift, people really just wanted to have someone to rant too and give advice, and plot some revenge.

You rarely had to use your gift on people, unless they were insistent. But you still met your fair share of skeptics, hence why you stay out of the media. Excuse you for not wanting to be associated with quacks and scammers. Today was just another day, moving to your next location to set up a booth at a fair grounds. People watching as always, given your phone died. You saw the shadowy dates on their heads, their birth dates... and their death dates.

Some you tried not to cringe at, older people who were months away from theirs, some even younger then that. You often morbidly wondered how they would die so young. What would be the reason for them to just die at the age of 22? Why did that child’s date say a few weeks? But you stayed quiet, most would think your crazy... or maybe file a lawsuit against you when their person did die. Yes that almost happened, it was a nightmare, the judge laughed the case out after the woman tried. You got lucky... but didn’t bother to warn people again. Unless they were customers, you didn’t care. Or at least you tired not to.

Somedays you’d look in the mirror, your numbers were always fuzzy, you saw your birthday... but never your death day. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. But, not one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, you didn’t bother to prob it. Frankly knowing when you’re going to die was just dreadful in your opinion. Many said they wanted to know, but they didn’t understand. It was like when you time yourself, stress becomes a factor. You’ve seen clients have that happen to them.

People were milling about excitedly, talking about some... maybe celebrities, you didn’t know, coming nearby. You lost count between the many champions of different regions and gym leaders. You were not envious at all of anyone who was a big named trainer. And... you also didn’t bother with Pokémon because last time you got attached you had to watch the counter tik down for your partner. You have thought about getting a ghost type pokemon, as they didn’t seem to have any counter on their head... but weren’t sure if you were experience enough for that.

As your train was called for boarding, you got up with your head slump a bit. you really didn’t want to look any one else, having seen enough for now. And walked forward to quick board, the sooner you got out the city the better. Typical you fashion, the universe seemed to love causing problems, as you had to run into someone. You felt like an idiot, and embarrassed, how cliché was this to bump into someone lost in thought.

You look up at the person you ran into, and felt even more annoyed at the world as your face was warm. Shit... he was also cute. He was wearing all white and had a conductors hat on, a bright smile on his face and white eyes to match. You almost wrinkled your nose at this, “Sorry.” you managed out in a grumble of a tone, trying not to come off as annoyed as you felt.

“I am Emmet, it’s not a problem!” Emmet, as you clearly just started, said. Odd, but you could see peoples death’s so... no room for you to judge.

Your eyes trail up to his face and you felt shock run through your body. You could see the shadowy outlines of his dates but... they were all wrong. It didn’t make sense, given the year you were in he would have to be...

September 25, 1563.

That... would make him over 400 years old!?

But that wasn’t the strangest part, it was his death day which was blurry, you couldn’t make out anything like your own. You mouth was open in shock as Emmet looked confused at your staring. “Something on my face?” he teased you as yo blinked out of your stupor and shook your head quickly.

“N-No... sorry again.” you said pushing past him and quickly leaving. You felt cold ice in your veins. That shouldn’t be possible, no one was over 400 years old! At least no one you’ve ever met before. You ran off to board your train, trying to put it out of your mind.

You did not just see a guy who was born in the 1500′s, it was your imagination.

Some would say curiosity shouldn’t be something you always give into. After all Curiosity Killed the Cat. But as you sat there after cleaning up your booth lost in thought. The dates still floating in your head, 1563... That man, Emmet, would have been born in the Renaissances Era. You asked some people about his name, and found out a bit on it. Supposedly he was a crazy strong pokemon trainer who, with his brother, ran Gear Station.

You frowned, he looked so young, if you couldn’t see dates, you’d have swore he was in his 20′s. You narrowed your eyes packing up your things, it was getting late... you really should find a hotel for the night... you really should be putting this out of your mind.

You really shouldn’t be thinking about going back and finding out who the fuck that man was really.

. . . And here you were, going off to possibly die like the stupid horror movie protag in a subway that was near dead at midnight. The workers legit looked like zombies walking around... graveyard shift people, you’ll forever fear and salute them. So needless to say, it was laughably easy to sneak in to the Employee places only. Like you swore one of the girls saw you, but she was just too tired to give a shit. You walked down the service tunnels with really a loose plan in mind.

Find that Emmet guy and confront him about his age thing. Worst he could do is laugh at you... you hope... come to think of it would he kill you if you knew?

Admittedly the plan had more loose ends than a Whimsicott’s cotton balls, and maybe you should have more self preservation skills than this. But, your death date was unknown to you. So as far as you were concern, you were either immortal or death was scared of you. 50% chance says you wouldn’t die here, and your need to know outweighed your fear of the other 50%.

Even if you didn’t know where to start looking, you figured you’d find him eventually, as you did see him go into the tunnels briefly when you entered the station. Kind of hard not to see a man in all white, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

You little flashlight didn’t do much for light itself, but it was the best you had. Walking down the dark tunnel and trying not to stray from the path, you really didn’t want to get lost in here. You paused though as you heard something in the distance, and slowly move your light up to see what it was. Given it was a few feet in front of you, your light barely illuminated it.

But the colors of white were the first you saw then something black in the back area... oh and the blood. It was on the ground, a person, eyes glazed over in the low light of your flashlight. And two men biting the wrists.

Numb horror ran over your body at that as you could only stare. As two pairs of red eyes looked up at you and hissed, flashing fangs.

This seemed to be enough to snap you out of your trance as you screamed out in terror and turned to flight. Running full speed down the tunnel walls, you felt your lungs burn as you tried to get away, you had to get out of here! Monsters! Was the only think you mind could really supply in terms of what you just say. And the need to survive was strong as they had killed someone back there.

But you didn’t get far before something tackled you full speed, you grunted as the ground hit hard, knocking the wind from your lungs. You struggled, trying to get the arms off of you, being held down against your will. “Get off of me!” you cried out as you tried to push at the person.

“Shhh, shhhh.” they said trying to cover your mouth, but you trashed around inside. Someone else was there, gripping your head in place now with cold hands and a grip like steel. You were looking at the outlines of them, as your eyes met the one on top of you.

Red as blood, they seemed to glow in the darkness.

And you couldn’t look away.

“That’s it... breath slowly now.” their voice was firm, demanding your attention, you wanted to start struggling again but the fight left your body. The eyes seemed to pulse a little as you were held steady, “Just watch my eyes,” he told you, holding your arms down, “Let the fear fade away, breath in... breath out.”

You found yourself listening, breathing in and out slowly as he suggested, your body going limp in their grip. Those eyes were so pretty to look at. Swirling and pulsing, holding your attention with ease. “Good, very good... stay right here, you want to stay here, you have no reason to leave.” his voice was commanding, you wanted to listen to him. You nodded faintly to these words.

A sigh was heard above you as hands left your wrists and head, the person getting up from being on top of you. “This is bad.” you heard one say.

“What should we do with them? Too many witnesses unlike the other, but they’ve seen too much.”

“. . . We could take them back to our hideout, and get to see why they followed us down here.’

“This sounds like a verrrry bad idea.”

The voices faded in and out, like you were underwater, you felt calm though, light weight and floaty. And soon everything else just faded with it.

“Come out now... follow my voice, and wake up.” You heard as your eyes opened slowly, you... knew that voice. That was the same one of the guy that had..

Your eyes snapped open as you saw a person in front of you. His eyes no longer red, but now pools of white. “Good, your awake, I was afraid I pushed you too far.” he told you you could only stare at him. “Okay, please don’t freak out, we just want to ask you some questions.”

Not like you could, your body still felt like it weighed 50 pounds. The man sat back in front of you, “My name is Ingo for starts, and my brother says he’s already met you.” he begins as you only glare at him, but that doesn’t deter him. “Given you’re still alive, could I ask why you thought to follow us don’t into the tunnels?”

Making a face you gazed up at his head at the numbers, the same as Emmet’s. September 25th 1563, and the death date was scrawled out. Then back down to Ingo’s face, at this point, what did you have to lose? Telling the truth might be your best option.

Gazing at Ingo for a long moment you finally spoke up, “You and your brother were born in 1563, September 25th... the time was around 7am.” you said to him calmly, and he can only stare at you.

The silence held between you both, heavy and thick.

Finally you broke the silence, “I can see it, you date of birth.” you pointed to above his head, “It’s like floating numbers, it tells me when you were born...” you looked at him, “And when you die.”

Ingo seemed to blink with a soft, “Ah.” escaping his mouth, “So you saw Emmet’s date of birth and thought to ask why he’s over 400?” he asked you, with an eyebrow raise.

You looked sheepish, “Saying it like that sounds stupid, but yes.” you admits, your plan really was as stupid as it sounds.

“Because it was verrrry stupid!” Emmet’s voice said as he rounded the corner with a grin, “Middle of the night you just decide to follow me into a dark ally. What if I had been hunting you silly?” he teased you with a boop to your nose.

You looked indianite at that, face feeling warm again. Not like you had room to talk as asshole had a point. So instead you made a face like a pout, which only made Emmet coo at you. You smacked his hands away with a glare, you would not be cooed over by him, you were angry damn it!

“Regardless... you know now what we are...” Ingo said to you as Emmet did back off with a snicker.

You gazed back at him, you had a pretty good idea after everything. “Vampires.” you told them, “You’re both vampires.”

Emmet decided next to you was a good seat as he nodded, “I am Emmet, but vampire is not just that. I’m not just some bloodsucker, oh no no. While I can drink blood, I also feed on energy too!” he said in a very proud tone of this.

“Huh?” You looked confused to him then to Ingo, who sighed at that.

“There are several kinds of vampires. Lesser born ones, as portrayed in media, are the Blood Sucker kinds.” he started to explain, “Most every vampire can feed on blood, but some can get it from other sources. My younger brother here-”

“only by 3 minuets!” Emmet said to him with a nose wrinkle.

Ingo’s eyes only glinted with mischief, “My younger brother,” he stressed again, seemingly liking how that pissed off Emmet, “is a Energy Vampire. Meaning he feeds on both Blood and Energy. This energy comes off in emotions, mainly positive ones.”

After glaring at Ingo, Emmet decided to turn to you and nodded with a smile, “Remember to Smile, as I always say! If people are at ease around me and trust me, I feed verrrrry good!” he told you. He then relaxed his smile, “Since so many people come into the station, I don’t have to worry about over feeding on them.”

Something told you that overfeeding on energy was bad, but you really didn’t want details. You looked back at Ingo, “And you are?” you asked.

“My brother is a Soul Vampire!” Emmet said proudly, “He can feed on the souls of other humans to sate his hunger, turning them into thralls of sorts.”

You could only gap at that as Ingo sighed, “A bit blunt Emmet,” he told him as Emmet only shrugged passively. The older shook his head, “Yes, I’m a Soul Vampire, I don’t feed on them often enough as my brother does, but you had the unfortune luck of seeing my alst victim.”

“That guy in the tunnel.” You whispered in shock as Ingo’s white eyes stared at you, all the confirmation you needed.

Clearing his throat Ingo continued, “If it makes you feel better, he was not a kind man, won’t be missed either.” he explained, but it still made you ill that Ingo had pretty much sucked the soul out of a human and then they drained his body dry.

Cold fear ran through you, “Would you have done that to me?” you asked a bit hesitant, part of you wanting an answer, the other not.

Emmet leaned back on the couch, “Actually that’s why we brought you here, obviously we can’t let you leave to tell others... but we also don’t have reason to kill you.” he gazes at you with a head tilt and grin. “So we were going to ask if you would stay with us instead!”

Now you see more of what Ingo meant earlier by ‘blunt’. Emmet was clearly smart, but liked to hide his calculative nature by child like actions. But he was also blunt to a fault, in just the short interaction you had with him, you felt you knew alot and nothing at all. And you felt you knew even less about Ingo. So why were they offering you this?

Your eyes told this much as Ingo spoke up next, “It’s an offer is all, we don’t want our secret getting out.. but you gift intrigues us also. Able to see fake IDs easy, better than most in our coven could.” he explained to you, as you stared at him going on about the benefits they’d offer to you if you chose to stay.

Emmet was now talking, “The only requirement of you is that you allow us to feed on you when we need to, and keep it secret what we are. In return we give you protection from other creatures and covens, longer life span, and eventually a chance to join our coven.” he listened off by holding out fingers. “Oh and we’ll make sure your verrry healthy, junk food blood and energy tastes awful.” he made a disgusted face.

“Feeding?” you managed to ask them.

Ingo pointed to his own wrist, “We mostly bite our, in the know, employees on the wrist, we don’t take alot of blood, just enough incase we really need it. Which isn’t often. Our coven members are the same, as sires we will not allow any of them to harm you.” he promised to you.

They were really trying hard to get you to agree... and honestly it might be working.

Your job was whatever you could find, always on the move, afraid of the day someone might hurt you for using your gift for them. Now to know that vampires, maybe even werewolves, demons, and other creatures existed... would they hunt you too? Ingo did say your gift was intriguing, meaning not many have it from the sound of it. but to live a half life? And maybe become a vampire?

You didn’t have anyone, but humanity was something that allow you to die. A short lifespan to try and cram so much into, centuries seemed to vast. Yet the shadowy scrawl that should have been your death date taunted you, fate was a strange mistress, and a cruel one too.

Gazing up at the two again, you took a breath in, “When would I start?” you asked.

Emmet’s shoulders relaxed at that and his smile did too, Ingo nodded to you with a smile of his own. “Tomorrow night we’ll show you the ropes, then let the others teach you from there. You’ll need to know a few things about trains, but with time you’ll get it.” he said in a happy tone also.

His younger brother ruffled your hair, “I am Emmet, and we have more than enough time.” he agreed before looking at Ingo, “tomorrow we can also bond with you.”

Bond? the world sounded odd but frankly you had a feeling you’d find out later. For now, Ingo helped you to your feet and offered to let you stay the night. Creatures like to hunt around this time, and until you were bonded, he didn’t want to risk losing you, neither did Emmet.

You agreed, if only because you were a bit uneasy about leaving now. And oddly, you felt you cold trust these two.

-------

headcanons again!

1. Emmet is very smart and knows as much as his brother, but he likes to act more childish and silly because it makes others smile. Just be afraid if you piss him off, if the small falls, run. He’s the more extroverted of the two twins and damn proud of it. But giggles when people say Ingo is so shy, because his brother just doesn’t like public.

2. Ingo is the more serious looking of the two, he talks loudly without meaning too even at a normal volume. He does most of the teasing out of the two brothers, mainly to Emmet. But alone, Ingo can be just as silly as his brother, who seems to bring it out in him. His quiet nature is only in public.

3. Emmet has tiks, ‘I am Emmet’ and ‘Verrrry’ are one of them, he also does flappy hands when excited, and bounces on his feet. When standing idle for too long he starts to bop his head to music he hears in his head. He’s also a pacer when thinking. had random bouts of giggles when he thinks of something funny, people give him weird looks when he does this.

4. Ingo is almost the same way, he flaps his fists though and has to hold himself back form making noises when he does so. Once or twice Emmet has had to stop him form almost hitting himself when he stims. He sometimes grits his teeth too much, which Emmet says he really shouldn’t do. And he rocks on his from one foot to the other, or does the penguin arm flaps, when idle. He’s a talker when deep in thought, doesn't care if your not listening.

5. Both twins are afraid they come off as too much to others, hence why they don’t like going in public as often.

These headcanons are based upon my friend who has ADHD and Tiks himself. that or he’s Autistic, one of the two, getting looked at by a (good) therapist is hard in the bible belt.

#subway master ingo #subway master emmet #vampire au #submas #tw hypnosis #tw blood #tw mild violence #one shot #second person pov #pokemon

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artificialqueens · 2 years

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Wait for Time (To Do What it Does) (Camgeria) - Athena2

Summary: Camden and Angeria are time travelers who are unable to interact in their own time and use their time travel missions to meet each other throughout history.

A/N: Hi everyone! I've had an idea of doing something along these lines for a while now, and I'm so glad I was able to finish it. I'm honestly really proud of this one, which doesn't happen often. That said, thank you so much to Writ for letting me send you ridiculously long texts about this and just letting me work through my ideas with you.

I really hope you enjoy, and please leave feedback if you like!!

Title from My Love by Florence + the Machine.

1. London, 1543

The gray sky blankets the world around the marketplace, and Angeria is living inside a history book.

She fiddles with the travel watch, remade into a leather cuff for the time period. The entire world on her wrist. Time is more fragile than she ever knew.

It’s a pretty easy first assignment—stocking fruits and vegetables that get sold in the marketplace. The Legion said her being here is important. She doesn’t know why, but time isn’t hers to question. It’s just part of the job: travel to a specific time and location. Slip into an assigned role that makes them blend in. Carry out a task in that role, a task that preserves time from anyone trying to mess with it. Then they leave, back to their own present. She’s surprised no other recruit was sent with her though, since it is her first mission.

The day passes as she drops off crates of apples and grapes and lemons, no one noticing her at all. She’s literally playing with time like a kid in a sandbox, touching each grain as it passes through her hands. It’s dizzying, and she’s grateful when the merchants start packing up. Her work here is done.

“Do you think eating these grapes will make time collapse? I’m so hungry.”

Angeria looks up and gasps. Someone else was on this mission with her.

Camden.

In their own present time, she and Camden received their training at Legion together, like all the recruits. But after training, recruits aren’t allowed to communicate. Legion doesn’t want the risk that a present relationship will throw recruits off their game and alter the past if they work a mission together. They can communicate on missions, but only about relevant things.

Angeria hasn’t seen her since their training days, where they were both top of the class, where her eyes went to Camden every minute. No matter how quiet she seemed, she always talked to Angeria, doing anything she could to make her laugh. Seeing her again, her red curls twisted in a braid, her cheeks flushed, makes Angeria’s heart pound.

“Should be fine,” Angeria says. “I’m hungry too. We can collapse time together.” She grabs a bunch of ripe grapes and hands it to a smiling Camden, taking another for herself.

“So I guess we go back now. Everything went okay?”

Angeria nods. Nothing went obviously wrong, and she’s assuming her actions kept time intact.

“Well, good luck.”

“Good luck to you too.”

“Who knows,” Camden says hopefully, “Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime.”

Sometime. In some other time.

“I’d like that,” Angeria says. She stares at her watch, knowing it’s time to go, no matter how long she wants to talk to Camden.

Theoretically, they can stay here as long as they like, and still be back seconds after they first left. But they aren’t supposed to stay anywhere after they’ve completed their job. The longer they stay, the greater the risk that they could alter something, no matter how unintentional. So they enter their return coordinates, vanishing within seconds of each other.

There isn’t enough time.

—

2. New Providence, 1668

The air is warm around her, and Camden hopes that means her senses are returning. She was supposed to materialize behind a church construction plot, but she can’t open her eyes yet, because everything is still spinning. It’s part of the side effects after traveling; limbs too weak and numb to move right away, head reeling with dizziness, nose sometimes bleeding from the suddenness of leaving one place and reappearing in another seconds later.

Her fingertips tingle as her body fully comes back to her. She slowly opens her eyes, knowing from experience not to rush it after throwing up on her first mission.

Sure enough, she’s on the ground, with what will be the Christ Church Cathedral behind her. It’ll be completed in two years, and though it gets destroyed several times it keeps being rebuilt, and still stands in her present. Time hasn’t beaten it.

She heads to the water, a blue-green so clear it feels like she can see straight to the bottom. Grand ships pull in and out of the harbor, their crews trekking to the boarding house. This is where Camden has her role, registering the ships and taking payment for rooms in the boarding house, though her real assignment is to make sure one ship stays docked until tomorrow. It’s one of the moments where the job seems most unbelievable to her: documenting the ships of 17th century pirates, watching them drink ale and fight over card games. She’s here. She’s really here.

And so is Angeria.

She’s at the dock with a ship’s crew, carrying bags. It grounds Camden to see her, makes things more real. Camden hoped she would see her again, and it’s nice having her here. Nice knowing they’ll find each other in different times.

Angeria runs to her. “I’m a pirate! Look, I have a sword and a puffy shirt and everything.” She poses for Camden, showing off the sword at her hip and the gold medallion around her neck.

“You’re definitely a pirate.” Camden’s slightly jealous it wasn’t her. They’re in the Caribbean in the Golden Age of Piracy, for crying out loud, and she’s stuck registering ships?

Someone barks for Angeria to get back to work, and she leaves with an apologetic smile. The day passes like this, dipping her quill in ink and sneaking glances at Angeria when she can. Things slow as the sun sets, and Camden heads to the water to see Angeria. Even if they’re not supposed to talk on missions, she’s too drawn to her not to. It was the same in training, and Angeria’s laugh was her favorite sound during those months.

Angeria smiles at her. “I love looking at the water. It’s relaxing, you know?”

“Yeah.” Though relaxing isn’t the word she’d use. The water is unbroken, unending, and it feels like Camden is drowning on dry land. “Does it ever scare you?” Camden asks.

“How do you mean?”

Camden sighs. “I mean, this water is here now, and we could come back in our time, and still see this same water, but so much will be different. The universe is so big and we’re just…”

“We’re just part of it,” Angeria says softly, and Camden nods, because Angeria understands her in ways she can’t understand herself sometimes. “Well, I’m glad I’m part of it with you.”

“Me too.” Angeria is beautiful with the sunset behind her, golden from its glow, and Camden’s about to tell her when shouts break out and pirates sprint past in a storm.

Three men strut toward the boathouse, chains clinking across the dock. The governor’s men, here to arrest pirates.

Camden turns to Angeria. “You have to run.”

“We both do, come on.”

Camden wants to run, but the sun glinting off Angeria’s medallion distracts her with a realization. She’s not a pirate, but Angeria is, and that means she’s in infinitely more danger. Danger Camden can help with, even as her heart pounds with fear. “You go, I’ll buy you time.”

“You can’t!”

“I just associate with pirates, but you are one. If they catch you, they’ll hang you.” Camden doesn’t like risks, but Angeria could get killed before she can even enter her coordinates to escape. Angeria was always so kind to her in training, and Camden doesn’t want her to get hurt or killed.

Angeria opens her mouth to protest, but Camden continues, ignoring the quiver in her voice. “There’s a ship. The Black Diamond. My job is to make sure it doesn’t leave the harbor tonight.”

“Camden—”

“Please, you have to make sure it doesn’t leave.”

Angeria grips her forearm, eyes intense with something Camden can’t figure out, and then she nods. “I’ll come back for you,” Angeria promises. She runs, reaching the trees the second the group reaches the dock. They tell Camden she won’t be in any trouble if she gives up the pirates she saw today. Camden refuses, and then there’s nothing but the cold grasp of iron around her wrists.

They don’t hang her, because she has information they need. Instead, they leave her in a freezing cell, chains attached to the wall. The chains feel like they’re squeezing her chest as well as her wrists, and they rub painfully against her skin with each movement. Her watch, her one escape, is stuck under the right one, no matter how she tries to get it out.

The panic is rising like a tide now. The governor is coming tomorrow, and she’s supposed to tell him what she knows about the pirates. They tell her it’ll be a polite meeting, but the guard winks menacingly at her, and she knows it won’t be. If she can’t free herself or Angeria doesn’t get here first, she won’t have a choice. But what if Angeria can't come back for her, or doesn't want to? What if she can’t escape from the cell or the governor? If they take her watch, she’ll be stuck here with no way home, and the thought makes her heart race. If that happens, she can only hope Angeria makes it back and tells the Legion to send someone for her—if they don’t decide to leave her as punishment for ruining the mission.

She’s stuck here. She’ll be stuck here forever, and tears fall and she gasps for breath as she tugs at her chains one last time. Panicking won’t help her, and she forces herself to breathe and think through her options. The guard has the key to her cell and chains. He’s too big to fight, but maybe she can outsmart him.

“Guard! I need water, please,” she calls. Her voice is already hoarse from not having a drink all day, and she adds some coughs for good measure. She’s always been a good actress.

It’s enough for the guard, at least, who stares at her intensely as he enters the cell and gives her a cup. Camden takes a sip and then throws the water in his face, ripping the keys from his hand while he’s distracted.

The key’s in the lock but she isn’t fast enough, and his rings gleam as his hand swings toward her face. There’s a burst of pain across her cheek and into her lip, and then she’s on the ice-cold floor with blood in her mouth, looking at him with dazed eyes.

She tries to sit up but he slams her back to the floor, pinning her there with a knee on her chest that crushes all her air.

“You’re a pretty little thing.” His hungry eyes make her heart pound, and she flinches when he touches her cheek. “Come on, be good—“

“Get the hell off her!”

There’s a smack as the guard’s club smashes into his head, then a thump as he hits the floor. Camden doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move, doesn’t hope—

“Camden, are you okay?”

And Camden sobs in relief, because she knows that voice, knows the gentle hands helping her up. Angeria is all she sees as the world comes back into focus, and for the first time since being captured, she’s okay.

Because Angeria came back for her.

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

She’s shaking so much her chains are rattling, and her lip stings where his rings cut her, but she looks at Angeria, at the worry in her eyes, and the pain fades.

“I-I’m okay,” she says honestly. “Thank you. I was trying to get his keys but—thank you.”

“I told you I’d come back.” Angeria’s hand hovers by Camden’s face, like she wants to stroke her cheek, but she gives her a handkerchief instead.

Camden dabs at her lip with a wince, making Angeria scowl at the unconscious guard. “He deserves worse than a concussion,” she spits, fists clenched. Camden has never seen her so angry, and the fact that she’s this angry on her behalf makes her chest warm, much too warm for this cold cell.

“It’s okay,” Camden says. It isn’t, really, but she saw that look in his eyes, like a hunter watching prey, and a split lip is nothing compared to what he could have done to her. What he would have done to her, if not for Angeria, and Camden shudders.

Angeria nods. “Let’s get you out of here.” She unlocks the chains and Camden can breathe again. But Angeria gasps at Camden’s wrists, the skin chafed to a raw pink and oozing blood in some spots. “I’m sorry,” Angeria says. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“Absolutely not,” Camden says firmly. “This isn’t your fault. I mean it, Angeria. I-I’m just glad you’re okay.” She doesn’t want to think of what might have happened to Angeria if she got caught instead. Not to mention that any other recruit might have saved their own skin and left Camden here.

“I’m glad you’re okay too.” Angeria helps Camden to her feet, holding her steady when she wobbles, her hands steady and strong and comforting. They turn to their watches, and eager as she is to get out of here, Camden can’t help wondering if the watches are their own chain.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to come back, but you did.” Camden says, unsure what else to say. The simple fact is that she protected Angeria when she didn’t have to, and Angeria came back for her when she didn’t have to, and that simple fact has shifted things between them, brought them closer than recruits are allowed to be. But even with the rules, even with the blood still trickling from her lip, Camden is glad this happened. Glad it happened with Angeria.

“Of course.”

They’d say more, but they can’t.

There isn’t enough time.

—

3. Concord, Massachusetts, 1775

There’s someone near Angeria as her senses return, and the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is a blurry patch of red. Another blink, and her heart leaps.

Camden.

They’re together from the start this time, and Angeria can’t help feeling safer and more at home—even if she’s nearly 250 years from home.

“Hi, Angeria,” Camden says, sitting up and massaging feeling back into her legs. She looks much better than when Angeria found her in that cell, terrified and shaking, so small beneath that guard. Angeria rarely gets angry, but that blood on Camden's lip made her see red, and all she wanted was to make that guard pay.

“Hi.”

They’re in a deserted alley behind a tavern, on cobblestones that are digging into Angeria’s back now that she can feel them. The air is salty from the ocean, just like it was in New Providence, and hopefully this mission won’t go as disastrously.

Angeria rises to her feet, taking in the barely-risen sun. “Today shouldn’t be too bad,” she says. Her job is delivering revolutionary pamphlets throughout the town.

“For you, maybe,” Camden mutters. She’s in black pants and a white shirt the texture of burlap.

“Why, what are you doing?”

Camden smiles grimly. “Someone has to take care of the horses, or Paul Revere’s ass is walking tonight.”

Angeria bites her lip to hide a laugh, but Camden catches on. “Laugh it up. I’d laugh myself if I wasn’t about to stand in mud and who-knows-what-else.”

It’s the most direct piece of history they’ve ever been involved in; they usually deal in smaller stuff that has big ripples, like Camden delaying that ship in New Providence, which saved a crew member who later led a major exploration. Messing up here could have real, unprecedented consequences, and the part of Angeria that doesn’t always see the good in people thinks the Legion did this deliberately, as a test to prove themselves after last time. They can’t mess up, and as much as she wants to stay here with Camden, they have work to do.

“Well, good luck,” Angeria says.

“Good luck.”

Angeria takes one last look at her and then she’s off, twisting through the wide streets until she reaches the back door of the print shop, where there’s a pile of forbidden pamphlets in the trash, just as the Legion told her they’d be.

It’s too early for many people to be out, and Angeria sticks to the shadows, weaving in and out of cobblestone streets and dodging soldiers to slip the pamphlets in private mailslots.

Her job is done, and she can leave. She should leave.

But the sun is burning overhead, and Camden might still be in the stable. She must be starving, and Angeria knows what she’s about to do is questionable by job standards, but she has to. She steals some bread off a cart and heads to the town stables.

Angeria didn’t know it was possible for a stable, but the place is virtually spotless. Hay is stacked neatly against the wall, the horses’ manes are gleaming, and you can actually see the stone ground beneath.

“Hi,” Angeria says.

Camden arches her back with a wince before smiling at Angeria. There’s hay in her sweaty hair, mud splattered over her clothes, and dirt smeared across her cheek. Angeria’s surprised she’s standing after hours of work like this, but Camden always beat everyone in stamina rankings.

“You’ve got a little…” Angeria remembers from training that Camden didn’t like getting dirty if she could help it, and she hesitantly reaches for her cheek, wiping the dirt away. She’d wanted to wipe the blood off Camden’s lips in the cell, but was afraid of hurting her, and even now, she keeps her touch gentle. Camden stands absolutely still, and Angeria is close enough to see tiny flecks of gray in her blue eyes, see the curl of her eyelashes. There’s also a thin, tiny scar along Camden’s top lip, so small you can only see it if you’re this close to her. One of the cuts must have been too deep, and again Angeria burns with anger towards that guard.

“Thanks.”

Angeria nods because she can’t manage words yet.

Camden washes her hands in a bucket of water and leads Angeria to the pasture, dropping to the ground with a groan and devouring the bread.

“You must be tired.”

“No shit,” Camden snorts. But she leans in suddenly, lowering her voice. “I was a dancer. Before, I mean. So I can handle hours of work like this.”

Angeria processes it with wide eyes. Camden is talking about her life before the Legion, which they aren’t allowed to do. Camden trusts her, and it warms Angeria's chest. Camden wants Angeria to have this piece of her, and she'll treasure it forever.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Camden says, biting her lip. "I just--I like talking to you. Too much, maybe." Her cheeks are red even in the shade.

“I won’t tell anyone. Besides, I like talking to you too.” There’s such an ease in talking to Camden. She always listens to every word, and sometimes she flashes that smile that always keeps Angeria wanting another. But there’s also a sense of safety, and Angeria realizes she trusts Camden just as much as Camden trusts her. Angeria wants to talk more, tell Camden how she’d be a teacher if she didn’t get mixed up in this, but maybe she can give Camden something else. A silent acknowledgement of today, a memory to keep.

Wordlessly, she taps Camden’s shoulder and extends her hand. Camden takes it, her touch cool and soft and more real to Angeria than anything around her. It was probably a stupid idea to dance, considering she steps on Camden’s foot in seconds, but Camden only smiles. She’s free in a way she isn’t on missions, and Angeria wants to have this moment. Wants to take something from time, when time only ever takes from her.

The dance is more than a dance; it’s also a risk. They have debriefings with the Legion after each mission, where they give every detail of their actions. If it ever slipped out that they’re lingering beyond their assignments, growing closer than they’re allowed, it would mean a world of trouble. They’d have their watches destroyed and be sent adrift to some random time, never able to go home. But one look in Camden’s eyes and Angeria has to. What’s a minute to a time traveler?

And a minute is all they get, swaying gently together, before fearfully going to their watches.

There isn’t enough time.

—

4. Como Bluff, Wyoming, 1877

Camden stares at the mountains and dreams.

They're as tall as the ocean is deep, free and undisturbed in the sky. They’re so big, another big part of this bigger universe, and it makes her heart yearn for something she can’t name. It makes her want to run away from her life, from her own present, from the world, just run away and share a cabin with Angeria, create a life of carved wood and hand-knit quilts and a roaring fire in the hearth. A life where they make their own history, just for themselves.

But she can’t. She’s here for a job, nothing else.

They’d materialized together again, behind some shrubs, joking about being cowgirls before Angeria stayed to develop a map and Camden left to go to the tiny town’s even tinier post office, where the scientists who dig for dinosaur fossils in the mountains will eventually need her to box up the bones to send to a colleague.

Everything is dusty and dry, an old photograph come to life. Aside from the mountains, there’s nothing much to this little town. Camden almost can’t believe so many dinosaur discoveries will come from it. History isn’t always as grand as people think.

When the men do burst in, covered in dust and bearing heavy wooden crates, her excitement tears her thoughts away from the mountain. She’s packing up actual dinosaur bones, the kind she’s only ever seen in museums. She’s holding history, holding time, in the palm of her hand.

But what’s the good of holding history in the palm of your hand when all that hand wants is to hold someone else’s? What’s the good of moving through time when you can’t have any with who you want?

She’s at the top of a dangerous slope. The whole point of not communicating with another recruit is because emotions complicate things; it’s more dangerous to do a job with someone you like, more likely to make you complacent and cause mistakes. She can’t ruin this mission, or future ones, because she’s thinking of Angeria in ways she shouldn’t.

She secures the last crate and the scientists leave. She can leave too. She can be strong and leave without telling Angeria goodbye, without breaking the rules by taking those extra minutes with her.

But then the door opens, and Angeria’s groan of pain is all she hears.

Camden can’t tell what’s wrong at first. There’s no blood, no obvious sign of injury. But Angeria is staggering and her face is ghostly pale. She’s definitely not okay, and Camden’s breath hitches.

“Angeria?”

“S-snake,” Angeria mumbles. She collapses into Camden’s arms, and part of Camden’s heart collapses with her.

This doesn’t happen; their roles are purposely small, nothing that will get them drawn into major historical events, nothing that will get them hurt or killed—though the tiny scar along Camden’s lip says otherwise. History is often made in the shadows, and it's safer to live in those shadows than in the light. Until today, anyway.

“You have to go back, right now.” Camden’s basic first aid skills aren’t enough for this. The Legion keeps doctors on hand in case missions go wrong, and one of them should be able to help Angeria. Though she’s trembling now, her eyes fluttering shut.

Camden lowers her to the floor as gently as she can, trying to stay calm. She can see the puncture marks in Angeria’s leg, just above the cowboy boots they’d laughed at together hours earlier. This isn’t a cut Camden can bandage; this needs a real doctor. Camden’s basically helpless, and she wants to scream. For Angeria to be like this, the snake was either venomous or she’s having an allergic reaction, and either way, all Camden can do is keep her alive long enough to get back. And she has to. Even scared and in pain, Angeria came to her.

Camden won't let anything happen to her.

“Angie, stay with me.”

Angeria lets out a whimper that breaks Camden’s heart.

“I’m gonna do your coordinates.” She’s trying to keep Angeria conscious, but her eyes have fallen shut. Camden taps her cheek gently. “I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that?”

“For you,” Angeria slurs.

Camden’s hands are somehow shaking and numb at the same time, and she forces in a steadying breath as she grabs Angeria’s watch and types her return coordinates.

“Camden, I–I don’t know if I’ll make it back.” Angeria’s breathing is labored, like she’s fighting for every bit of air. Sweat runs down her face and her eyes blink in and out of focus. She’s always so steady, so strong and confident. Camden has never seen her like this, and it hurts. She just wants to fix it, make Angeria better and take her pain away.

“Yes you will,” Camden says firmly. “You’ll be okay, I promise.” She whispers it over and over, hoping to soothe Angeria, and suddenly she understands the no-relationship rule, because right now Camden would probably do anything to make sure Angeria lives, history be damned. She cares for her so much more than she was ever supposed to.

“I’m sending you back now, okay? Just hang on.” She presses the button on Angeria’s watch, and then she’s gone.

Camden can still feel Angeria’s wrist in her hand, feel the beat of her dangerously slow pulse. She imagines Angeria reappearing on the cold floor of the launch room all alone and wishes she could be with her, holding her hand. The feel of her beneath Camden’s hands is already fading; by the time she gets back, it'll be gone entirely. Just a memory. She’s trying to hold onto time, but it’s slipping through her hands like water. She didn’t have much time with Angeria here, but she won’t have any time with Angeria at all when she returns to the present. She won’t even know if Angeria survives after getting back, since recruits can’t see each other and Legion won’t tell them anything. She won’t know until they have another mission together.

If they have another mission together, and tears are rolling down her cheeks.

Her knees ache on the floor, and she wants to just stay here, let her tears flood the town. Hide in the past to avoid the present. But she can’t.

There isn’t enough time.

—

5. Paris, 1922

The lights in the theatre dim, and as the red velvet curtain swings open, Angeria gasps at Camden centerstage when the ballet begins.

She hasn’t seen Camden since their mission in Wyoming, and even though it was really only three months ago in their present time, it feels longer; it feels like over a century since Camden held her hand and told her she would be okay. She touches her calf absent-mindedly, thinking of a wound simultaneously a century and three months old.

Part of her is surprised. Their roles aren’t supposed to be showy, nothing that would be documented or noticed in history. But it must be important, and a different performer for one show won’t be remarked upon after a few days, especially because the Legion can cover their tracks if needed. No one will remember the gorgeous dancer that had the starring role and disappeared.

No one except Angeria.

She won’t ever forget Camden in her pink tutu, all of time stopping around her as she moved through the air like she was born to do it. This isn’t some clumsy dance in a stable. This is Camden floating on air.

Angeria is so entranced by Camden that she almost forgets her job, and she leaps to her feet when the crowd leaves. She has to slip an envelope in the pocket of one of the audience members, and this saves a life somehow. The way things ripple doesn't always make sense to Angeria, but she still does her job, throws her rock in the pond so that each bounce of the water of time can happen as it’s supposed to.

Job done, Angeria runs to the stage door. Camden might have left but there’s a chance she hasn’t, and when you walk amidst the chances of time, you know both how big and small a chance can be.

Her feet slam over the sidewalk, and the door swings open to reveal Camden, her eyes widening when she sees Angeria. Her hair is in a loose bun instead of her tight dance one, her face scrubbed pink from removing her makeup, and it might be the most beautiful she’s looked in any century. She’s softer, somehow, and it tugs at Angeria’s heart.

“Cam-–”

“You’re okay!” Camden throws her arms around Angeria, trembling, and Angeria realizes.

Camden didn’t know she survived. Angeria assumed that surely someone would have told her, but of course they didn’t. The last time Camden saw her, she was dying from a snake bite, and for all Camden knew, that might have been her last moment with Angeria ever. Angeria was stuck in bed for days and had to deal with the pain and dose after dose of medicine, but she knew she was alive and recovering. Camden had no idea. Angeria can’t imagine what Camden went through, and she understands the wildness in her eyes, the desperate way she’s holding Angeria, to prove that she’s real.

Angeria pulls away gently, but lets Camden hold her hand. “I am, thanks to you. If you didn’t do my coordinates…” she doesn’t need to finish.

“I wouldn’t let that happen to you.” Camden squeezes her fingers. “I knew you would make it. It’s just…now I can see you.”

“I wish I could’ve told you somehow. I thought someone would’ve…” The chime of a clock cuts through the moment, reminding Angeria how much time owns them. She needs to say what she came here for. “I know we have to go,” she says breathlessly, “But I…I just wanted to tell you how incredible you were.”

“Thank you.” Camden blushes, her cheeks even pinker, a wide smile on her face. “Legion just told me to give the best performance I could, that it’d get me backstage with this politician after.”

“You gave the best performance I’ve ever seen,” Angeria says.

People brush past on their way to the Eiffel tower, their conversations so animated, so alive. There are famous writers and artists thriving here right now, but there’s also ordinary people worrying about what to make for dinner. Everything here exists, yet when she gets home, this is nothing but a page in a history book.

Time really is fragile. Life really is fragile. A thread constantly seconds from unraveling.

And Angeria looks at Camden, at the stray hair that escaped her bun and sticks to her cheek, and feels herself unraveling.

“Camden,” she says before she can stop herself, “Can I kiss you?”

Camden nods frantically, pulling them back inside the stage door. It’s dark inside, but it doesn’t matter because their lips meet and the entire world—all of time itself—fades anyway. They hold each other too tight, because they don’t know if they’ll ever get to again.

In some ways, this is the worst part of the no-relationship rule. Because she and Camden have a past that effectively doesn’t exist in the present, since their present lives can’t interact. A past they can’t acknowledge until the future, when--if--they’re released by the Legion. Until then, their feelings exist only in stolen pockets of time.

There isn’t enough time.

—

6. Berlin, 1980

The lounge is crowded with tiny tables, the air thick with smoke and the scent of liquor.

Someone is singing, and their voice is familiar to Camden as it reaches through the haze. She sips a glass of water and lingers in the corner, eyes turned to the stage, her heart knowing who she’ll see before her brain does.

Angeria looks so natural on the stage, in a long pink dress that shines in the dim light. Camden can easily picture her as a star, getting all the adoration and love she deserves. But Angeria is always a star to her.

It’s a bit flashier than normal, like Camden’s last mission, but she isn’t going to ask questions—especially not when she’s enjoying watching Angeria like this, such power and beauty in her. Angeria singing in this lounge must be part of her job, just like Camden’s job is to spill her drink on the blonde man at the table near her when he gets up, because he’s in a spy ring and the delay will prevent him from running into an enemy that wants to kill him. Time is just a fragile string, and Camden dances along its edge.

The man heads toward the exit, and Camden springs into action. With all the grace and drama of her dancing days, she pretends to trip and stumbles into the man, her drink splashing over his suit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir.” She hams it up, dragging the man to the bar and raining apologies on him as she wipes his shirt with napkins. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Angeria head behind the stage.

Wait for me, Camden thinks, finishing her scrubbing of the man’s shirt and letting him leave, with information about the next supply airlift slipped into his pocket.

She follows Angeria behind the stage, into a dim hallway. Angeria is waiting for her, and Camden sighs in relief. The band’s music plays faintly from the lounge, and Camden takes Angeria’s hand. “May I have this dance?”

Whatever century they’re in, Angeria isn’t the best dancer, but Camden guides them both. Angeria only steps on her toes twice this time, and Camden doesn’t even wince.

“Can’t believe Legion made me sing for this,” Angeria mutters. “This place is a front for a spy ring. The performers all smuggle in supplies that the owners give to people who need them. I was so busy with that I forgot about the singing part. I figured I’d blow my cover if I tried to back out of it.”

“At least you didn’t have to clean eighteenth-century horses,” Camden laughs, slightly bitter because she’s still mad about it. “Besides, I think you’re a good singer.”

“Just good?” Angeria teases.

“A great singer,” Camden corrects with a smile. “Really.”

She wants to kiss Angeria so badly, return the kiss from Paris. Technically, that kiss was almost sixty years before this moment, but in the present, the Paris mission was only two months before this mission. It makes Camden’s head spin if she thinks about it. She wants to kiss Angeria even more now, steal a kiss from the past to treasure it in the present. It’s dark here, but anyone can come around the corner, and dancing is already enough of a risk. A kiss is even more dangerous if they’re caught. This whole thing is dangerous, really, and they have to leave. They’re tempting destiny with every second of this stolen dance.

She’s always resisted the power attached to her wrist. She’s done her missions and gone back, never straying from the assignment, even if she could have gone anywhere she wanted—to see the dinosaurs or watch the moon landing or be in the crowd at Live Aid. But when she’s with Angeria, that resistance weakens, a thin string about to snap that makes her want to jump to another time, destroy the watch, and live with Angeria, rather than go back to her empty apartment in the present. It’s only the fact that the Legion would probably find them and make them pay that keeps her from doing it. The only thing that keeps the string intact.

“I wish…” Camden trails off, her eyes saying everything she can’t. I wish we could spend real time together. I wish we could finish a dance.

“I know,” Angeria says softly, wiping the tears Camden was trying to blink away. “I know. Maybe sometime.”

She thinks of what Angeria said, about being a part of the universe. Well, I’m glad I’m part of it with you. And even if she and Angeria can’t be together in their own time, they’re still part of the same universe. A universe that will maybe align and release them from the Legion soon, so they can be together in their time, not someone else’s.

Sometime. In some other time.

There isn’t enough time.

—

7. The Present

Angeria wakes to the moon shining on an empty bed. Fear erupts in her chest as she thinks of all those times returning to her senses in the Legion’s launch room completely alone, then going home to her silent apartment. She draws in a breath, because she's not there anymore, and she gets out of bed to find Camden.

She strokes Freddie’s fur for comfort on the way out, the corgi curled up snoring at the end of the bed. Camden saw him at a local shelter and begged Angeria to get him, and when he licked Camden’s face and made her all giggly—‘Look, Angie, he loves us so much already!’—Angeria was sold. Angeria even let Camden name him, though she picked out his bright red collar.

She wanders into the kitchen, expecting to find Camden sipping tea—her cure for sickness, sleeplessness, and stress—but finds it empty. The TV glows faintly from the living room, and there Camden is, empty mug on the coffee table.

“Bad dream?” Angeria asks, sitting next to her on the couch. Camden occasionally woke up gasping from nightmares of being trapped somewhere, but Angeria usually woke up with her and would soothe her back to sleep.

Camden sighs. “Just can’t sleep.”

Angeria understands. She’s had her share of bad dreams too. It’s hard at times, to have memories of things that happened hundreds of years ago, when you traveled to all those times within a few years of the present. To feel like you’ve had multiple lives all stuffed into your own, sometimes threatening to burst at the seams.

It’s easier when you have someone who understands.

“Want to dance?” Angeria asks, hoping it will help relax her.

“I’d love to.” Camden turns off the TV and sticks an Elton John record on their record player, grabbing Angeria’s hand as “Your Song” comes softly through the speakers. Angeria still isn’t much of a dancer, but she lets Camden lead as they sway in the middle of the living room.

Angeria can’t help marveling at how far they’ve come since 16th century-London.

It’s been three years since their last mission. Three years minus one day since they found each other in their own world, their own time, and got to know each other as themselves, not posing in some role in another century. Three years minus one day since Angeria asked Camden out for coffee at the same time Camden asked Angeria out for breakfast, and they shared a kiss that was sweet with coffee and syrup. A year and a half since they moved in together, piecing together a home of coziness and safety.

But she’s trying not to get so wrapped up in history, in time, in numbers.

Right now, it’s just her hand in Camden’s, her other hand stroking Camden’s back as they sway. It’s just those blue eyes that hold something new every time Angeria looks at them. It’s just them, existing in a moment that’s theirs alone. They don’t have to rush, don’t have to lose their hold on each other to type numbers in a watch.

Their wrists are bare, have been for three years.

The song ends, and Angeria thinks of how amazing it is to finish a dance.

“I think someone feels like sleeping now,” Angeria teases, watching Camden yawn. Her plan worked perfectly, and all the knots of tension in Camden’s back and shoulders have loosened.

“Yeah.” Camden gives her a sleepy smile as they walk to bed and snuggle under the covers.

"I got you," Angeria whispers, and as she wraps a protective arm around Camden's waist, all of time falls into place, and everything is okay. All those times they had to let go of each other in the past and come to the loneliness of the present were worth it, because now Angeria can hold Camden and not have to let go.

Camden looks like an angel as she sleeps, and Angeria can’t help but think of the ring tucked away in her dresser, waiting to surprise Camden on her birthday. It’ll be a big moment when it happens, but it’s the little moments that often count the most, the little moments that make history. It’s the little moments that Angeria clings to: The warmth of the first mug of tea she ever made for Camden when she was sick with a cold, chest bursting with pride when Camden said it made her feel better. Laughing so hard they had to lay on the floor when they were joking around as they decorated Angeria’s new classroom. Rain pounding on the roof while they spent the day safe under a quilt in bed, Freddie at their feet, cuddling in between breaks of reading.

It really doesn’t matter when she asks Camden, because the moment will become perfect with the action itself.

They’ll make their own history.

They have all the time in the world.

#rpdr fanfiction #s14 #lady camden #angeria paris vanmicheals #angeria x camden #lesbian au #time travel au #athena2 #tw blood/injury #tw mild violence #concrit welcome

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